It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

We Better Keep an Eye On This One

Halloween came and went. Elliot insisted on being Varuna and taking Waka with him as Makara and would not listen how inappropriate it would be to arrive at school as an ancient Indian deity; he settled for the Grim Reaper only upon refinding his dusty (and thankfully dull) scythe in his closet. Lilliana was easy, dressing like Amelia Earhart and holding a collection of papers mapping the Atlantic Ocean "but before she died. Or disappeared. Whichever came first".

No one came for trick-or-treating, though Matthew wasn't sure why he thought they would. He ate the pound of candy he bought in two days.

Mr. Yang's parents were supposed to arrive on October 3 to take the children somewhere; the details were not given to either Matt or his employer. The children packed sparingly, and when their grandparents didn't arrive, they unpacked, unbothered, moving on with their lives.

Jun received the call two days later. Something had come up. His face, usually resolute, softened into a disappointed snarl. He didn't counter, nor did he ask for further elaboration. The older man's words were soft, monotone, a child speaking to a parent. He placed the phone down on the receiver – a near-inaudible click – and returned to work.

Lloyd's spot stayed empty, replaced with a too-white Honda Civic that was available to Matthew whenever he needed it. The Bug's absence was felt every time Matthew, or anyone, needed something from the carport workshop, or needed something in Matt's room.

The house settled as the colors of autumn grew muddy, gray with the incoming winter. It radiated a coldness that not even a warm autumn day could melt. The scaffolding inched its way across the roof, thumping and bumping and drilling and surprise cold patches appearing throughout the house. The double doors to the kitchen wing was permanently sealed off.

On November 4, at 1:32 that afternoon, almost a month after the accident, came the relief Matthew had been waiting for. Much to Mr. Yang's chagrin, and despite his nanny's continuously sickly appearance, Matthew was deemed "appropriately healthy" by his doctor to return to work.

"Maaaaaaaatt," Lilly groaned, throwing herself vertical at the small circle table in the makeshift kitchen table. The air smelled of mildew and sawdust, metal and burning. The light was dingy, and even with the gold lights turned on, the room felt so unbearably cold. "This's the worst."

Audrey stood at the secondhand stovetop, scraping a spatula against the bottom of the pot. A healthy cloud of steam rose to a haze, the condensation pressing itself against the ceiling. She muttered to herself, clearly through her teeth.

Matthew sighed, shuffling his hand under Lilly's forehead and bringing her head back up.

The child's eyes were peeled open, her face gently stretched. She groaned.

"It's just math, and it's the last thing you need to do," he told her, as if that was any consolidation to her. "Once you finish this, you have the rest of the afternoon."

Lilly grumbled, the moment Matthew let go her face smacked against the tabletop. "Who needs it? I don't." She paused. "Why isn't Eli here? He has homework, too."

Matthew didn't want to think about her cousin. Apparently, he had pushed the school too far, though Audrey and Yang hadn't told him the details. Maybe on purpose, though it would only be uttered in name – "The Plant Pot Incident". But, despite the gaps in information, Elliot Yang-Snyder was on disciplinary probation for the next week, assigned a task Matthew knew he could not accomplish – write a five-page paper on the importance of rules and regulations, followed by a personal essay detailing what he would do differently. A week's worth of at-home learning and divorced from his class and what few classmates he liked talking to, Danny included. There would definitely be further consequences when he returned.