Erik and Maggie had crayons and intentions. They were trying to be quiet about it, but they had waited until they had Milo alone in case adult supervision disagreed.

“Are you sure you can stick them?”

“Yes. Write big so he can see.”

“Is any of it backwards?”

A sigh. “Yes.”

“Stupid… crayons with no stupid… erasers. I want coloured pencils like Calliope has.”

“Calliope’s pencils don’t have erasers either.”

“Well, then, why… have them?”

Milo instinctively felt both crayons and pencils being maligned and felt obliged to comment. Then he remembered who he was and that he couldn’t do that.

He opened his eyes.

It was a little bit blurry, but he saw green.

Oh, hey, there’s Erik. Hi, Erik. Will you say everything’s going to be okay again? That was nice.

Erik lifted a hand. Should I? he wondered.

Milo still felt bad. Hurt and sick. That made him feel better. And he liked it, like a warm blanket or some ginger ale.

But that didn’t fix hurt or sick. It was for fixing scared, or sad (or angry, like when his uncle didn’t want medicine) so you could do something else that helped. Milo was okay being helped, and not scared or sad or angry.

Auntie Enora hurt Milo when she touched him. She hurt him a lot. It was hard to remember it now that he didn’t need to remember it, but he knew how Milo had reacted. He had worked his way around it when he helped Milo before, and he could probably do that again, but there might be some other place Milo was hurt that he didn’t know about, or he could mess up some other way. It was risky. Every time. Like calling a god.

It had hurt Seth, too, because it made him remember his family and they were all dead.

What Auntie Enora had done to Milo was distant, at least for the moment. What he had done to Seth was very near to hand. Magic season…

He got better at it. He got better at it because he had to do it over and over. It was never like the first storm ever again. Milo and Auntie Hyacinth figured out decoys and got better at those and there weren’t any more triple strikes and there wouldn’t be any more triple strikes.

That didn’t make it stop hurting. He couldn’t remember Milo, not all the time. He had to remember holding Seth down and knowing he wanted to be dead and hearing each and every shot, because Seth was always going to remember it and they were always going to be stuck in the basement together. If he ever forgot it, he’d just find it out again, and that would hurt even more, for both of them.

Seth had needed the help. Especially that first storm, but sometimes after it, because he was hurt and scared. They both were. And it was better Seth be hurt and scared in the basement than under a bush in Candlewood Park. It… It wasn’t just something he did to be nice. Sometimes it wasn’t nice at all. It was a responsibility.

I won’t, thought Erik. It’s like my uncle with the quarter. It’s to help people, but you don’t just do it. It’s not a toy.

He put his hand down and he hid it behind his back, as if maybe he’d been aiming the slingshot at things in the house.

“Aw, darn it, Milo,” Maggie said, well-removed from all the mental drama. “We’re not done.”

Milo blinked at her, and then squinted at what she was doing. There were coloured pages stuck to his nice wall with the flowers. Pink, yellow, blue and green. They said, in large bold letters at only two to a page so he could read: GE T WE L (backwards L) (backwards S)O __ __LO, and something smaller on one page that he couldn’t read.

Erik pulled that one off the wall and handed it to him. “I’m sorry, Milo. I think we forgot Ann needs glasses too.”

We miss Ann too, the single page read. That was all Maggie because it was all facing the right way.

Aw, they drew Ann. He had a crayon drawing of Ann. And no one was going to write Fail on it. He put it under his pillow to make sure. It had a charm on it and it stuck to the sheets.

Maggie removed the page with two L’s. “Honestly, Erik, how can you get one right and one wrong? Don’t you see it?”

“I do it to annoy you, Maggie,” Erik said wearily.

“Sometimes I wonder,” she replied.

I think I’m home, Milo thought. Home is where everyone teases and no one ever means it.

“Yeah, Milo. It’s home,” the green child said. “Do you want us to write it and put it up?”

Also, Erik hears me sometimes. But, that wasn’t scary. He didn’t know why. It surprised him, but it never scared him.

Two, he said. He was remembering things pretty well, he was just tired a lot.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Erik asked him.

Three.

Yes, but not yet. I like you guys.

“Erik, Erik,” Maggie broke in. “Ask if we can hug him! We haven’t hugged Milo yet!” She didn’t want Milo to run out of hugs before they got a chance.

“Why don’t… you ask him?”

Maggie came over all shy. “I think he likes you better.” She didn’t know what she was going to do if Milo said yes to Erik and no to her. Maybe it was better if Erik asked for both of them.

Aw, that wasn’t true. Milo liked Maggie. He and Erik kind of had a thing going where they understood each other, but Maggie was all right. Loud sometimes. Oh, and sometimes a bird. But Erik was other people sometimes, so that evened out.

Milo said, One, to Erik and, One, to Maggie. They didn’t have to ask.

Erik hugged first. He was closest. He was serious about it and very careful.

Milo breathed a soft sigh. Erik was worried about him and wanted him to be okay, that was what it was. Not just not-hurt but not-scared either. It felt good knowing that.

Milo hugged him back and closed his eyes. He tried to think as clearly as he could, so Erik might understand him too.

He had been scared sometimes, when he thought he might have to go to the hospital, or have bread and water, or medicine that hurt, but none of that happened. He was learning to be not-scared. It helped a lot to be held, and to not be scared of being held.

He hoped he could keep that. He remembered about hugging people wrong.

Erik shook his head. He pulled back and saw Milo frowning. “Milo, you hug just right.”

Milo said, One, but sadly. He was better about it now because it was so hard for him to think. The headache wouldn’t stay forever. He might go back to being afraid.

Erik put up his hand, which still worked better as an exclamation than trying to come up with some relevant lyrics. Please wait. Important message forthcoming. “Quick… hug… Milo and… tell him he’s good at it.”

Maggie only needed to hear “hug Milo.” She wrapped both arms around him, tight. She crossed her wrists behind his neck, she shut her eyes, and smiled and said, “Mmm!”

Milo gave a little gasp. Maggie wasn’t like Erik because he didn’t get understanding from her, but she was so snug and safe. She wasn’t careful, she was just glad.

Can I just have this? Milo thought. He clasped his wrist with one hand behind her back and held her tightly. Okay? Please?

He wanted to cry, and he wanted to hide in the closet because it hurt. He did the crying. He couldn’t help that.

“Milo, am I hurting you?”

Erik rapidly shook his head, which also worked better than music, but he followed it up with some explanation. That came easier when it was a little less urgent. “Don’t stop,” he managed, before closing his mouth and shaking his head. He wasn’t sure if he meant the Queen song or Fleetwood Mac, but neither “me” nor “thinkin’” fit the situation, and he didn’t know how to rhyme what he needed to say.

He took a breath and tried plain words, “If you stop now, he’ll think he made you.” He let slip a little sigh, Oh, thank gods. “You’re not hurting him, Maggie,” he said. “He’s just… he’s just hurt.”

Maggie nodded against him. She had stopped smiling, but she held him a little tighter.

Milo didn’t even notice. It was too much. And… and it wasn’t enough. He felt empty and overwhelmed all at once. It felt good. It also felt like two drops in a leaky bucket he’d never been able to fill. He’d never realized how much room he had in there, or what was supposed to fit in that empty space. He couldn’t… How could he possibly make up for all that loss? Maggie and Erik couldn’t do that. It was an obscenity to even ask.

Ann, please help. I’m scared to go on and I’m scared to let go.

Milo… you just have to trust that it’s not the last time.

You have to trust.

He nodded. He squeezed her, just for a moment, then he let go, and she let go, and she tried to dry his eyes with her hand.

“Milo, do you want Miss Hyacinth? Is it your head?”

Two. One. Three. Yes, it was his head. It was his broken, damaged head, but Hyacinth couldn’t fix him and Ann could only try to hold him together. Ann’s yellow dress was on the bed and he drew it against him. He wanted so badly not to be him. He wasn’t strong. He wasn’t okay.

Maggie sat with him. Erik brought him a box of tissues and a bottle of ginger ale. He was able to drink. It helped him stop crying. He didn’t stop because he was too scared, he stopped because… because he sort of ran out of crying and didn’t need to anymore. It felt strange. Warm.

“It’s okay, Milo,” Maggie said. “Everything’s harder when you don’t feel well.”

“I cried all the time when I was hurt,” Erik said. “I thought it would be forever, but it wasn’t, and everyone helped when I needed it.”

Milo nodded. He remembered helping Erik. He remembered trying. He couldn’t give hugs. Or smiles. Eye contact. All that stuff that was supposed to go in the bucket. So he gave things. The watch. Fashion magazines, which in retrospect might’ve been too old for him. That board book, which was probably too young. One time this toy caterpillar he thought was cool. Erik didn’t need any of that as much as he needed someone just to hold him and comfort him. He was terrible at helping Erik.

Erik smiled at him. “I don’t feel like I’m very good at it, either, but I’m not going to stop.”

“Stop what?” Maggie said.

“Helping.”

“Of course we’re not!” she cried.

Erik swatted her, “Shh! Milo’s… head!”

Milo smiled at them. He sort of wanted to laugh, but that would be too hard. He didn’t think he was ever going to be able to do that.

Mordecai was right about helping me. He said… I can’t remember. About it being okay. And it is.

“Milo, I think you should sleep,” Erik said. “It’s harder when you’re tired. Can you sleep?”

One. Yes. And he wanted to.

They helped him. They moved his pillow and they tried to fix his hair. They got it out of his face, anyway. They tucked him in.

He never had that before. No one ever did that before. It felt safe.

He smiled and he closed his eyes.

Thank you. Thank you for that. Thank you for not hurting me. Thank you. He wished he had fingers for “thank you.” He hoped Erik could hear.