Chapter 20
Simon
When my alarm goes off, I groan. I've slept like shit, and I don't want to face the day. I read Boris' text about coming home before I fell asleep, but it changes nothing. Does it? No, it doesn't. He chose to go camping with wolves.
I fling the cover off. Normally, I'd take a shower before I wake Ira, but now I pad into the kitchen instead to get the coffee maker going. I don't have a job to go to, so I don't need to shower right now.
When there is a tap on the window, I squeal. Boris is standing outside. He must be standing in the flowerbed to reach the glass. I huff at him. He nods in the direction of the door. Couldn't he have knocked on it like a normal person?
I walk to the hallway and unlock the door, a little puzzled at seeing Boris' bag resting on the doorstep.
"What are you doing here at this--"
He steps over the threshold and gathers me in his arms. The cool fabric of his jacket makes me realize I'm not wearing a shirt. I only put on sleep pants before going to bed last night.
"Boris." My protest is weak.
He nuzzles my throat, making goosebumps spread on my arms, which are now easy to see. "I never meant to upset you. The whole trip was Zahrah's idea, and we were never in any danger. We know those wolves--"
My resolve had been so close to melting away, but when he mentions wolves, I tense. He coos, but no. "Those are wild animals, Boris. You might think you're safe, but you're not."
He sighs. "Simon." He curls his fingers around my upper arms and looks into my eyes. "Those aren't normal wolves."
What? "They're wild--"
"No. How do you think Zahrah gets so close to them? They're not wild animals. They're not dangerous."
"They're wolves, and wolves are--" He cuts me off with a kiss, then he looks deep into my eyes.
"Do you believe in magic?"
My mind is spinning. Magic? I shake my head. He blinks, and his eyes change color. I try to scramble away from him, but his hold on my arms is firm. I can't describe the sound leaving me, but I'm pretty sure I've never produced anything like it before.
"Simon, calm down."
His eyes are back to normal, but before he can say anything, Ira comes stumbling out of his room, barely awake.
"Boris?" A smile takes over his face, and I make a sound of protest when Boris lets go of me and drops into a crouch with his arms held out wide in invitation for a hug. Ira rushes into his embrace, and I want to pull him away, but I stay frozen.
Did I imagine the eyes?
Boris steps out of his shoes and walks toward the kitchen with Ira in his arms. He's too big to be carried around, but neither of them cares.
"Did you sleep well?"
Ira nods, and Boris puts him down on the counter next to the stove. One of his pajama legs has slid halfway up his calf, and his hair is a tousled mess.
"Ready for some breakfast?" Boris leaves him sitting there, shrugs out of his jacket, and drapes it over a chair before he goes to open the refrigerator.
I went shopping yesterday, so it's pretty full.
"Pancakes?" He shoots me a look with a raised eyebrow, and I deflate.
Maybe I was still mostly asleep and imagined the change of eye color.
Maybe it was the morning light hitting him at some weird angle.
"I like pancakes." Ira speaks on a yawn. "Did you see any wolves?"
"One. Zahrah wanted to stay another night to catch two wolves drinking from the lake at dawn, but I missed your dad too much to stay away for another night."
I look away.
"How could she know there would be two wolves this morning?"
Boris cracks some eggs in a bowl, moving around the kitchen as if it were his own.
"Zahrah is a wolf-whisperer. She tells them what she wants, and the pack jumps to obey. Sometimes at least."
The pack. I press my lips together. There isn't supposed to be a pack in Rutchester, but Boris said there's been one for generations. I take a step farther into the kitchen instead of hovering by the threshold. "Does Zahrah always take her photos in Rutchester?"
Boris shrugs. "Most often."
So all those photos of wolves had been taken in the nature preserve?
"Does she have many photos?" Ira stares admiringly at Boris, but I think it's admiration for Zahrah, not for him.
"Sure, it's her job to sell photos." He wipes his hands and grabs his phone from his pocket. "Look here." He taps on something, then he hands the phone over to Ira. "It's her online shop."
Ira's eyes are wide as he stares at the screen, and curiosity makes me move closer. Boris cups my neck and brushes his thumb over the skin as he moves past me. Then he gets a skillet and switches on the burner.
I peek at the photos listed and hold my breath. There are several of wolves. Close-ups.
"Is it the same one?" Ira angles the screen toward Boris. "The same you have in your house."
Boris nods and pours batter into the skillet. "Yeah. It's her best friend." He looks at me when he speaks, and I inhale deeply through my nose. You can't be friends with a wolf.
"What's on your schedule in school today?"
"We're gonna send a letter to Santa."
I stop looking at the screen and focus on Ira. "To Santa?"
He pulls a face, and my heart sinks. I've never sold the whole Santa-thing.
I don't know, something about lying to a child about there being magic in the world makes me uneasy.
He's supposed to be able to trust me at all times, know what I tell him is the truth.
I haven't said Santa doesn't exist, and I've always put the presents under the Christmas tree after he has fallen asleep, so it'll look like Santa was there while we slept, but I haven't worked super-hard on making him believe.
"It was homework to make our parents write their lists."
"What?"
He sighs and holds the phone out to Boris, then he slides down from the counter and walks out of the kitchen. A moment later, he comes back with two sheets of paper in his hand. "Here." He puts them on the kitchen table. "You're supposed to write your list."
Two sheets of paper. One for mom and one for dad. I force a smile. "Okay. Once I've written my list, then what?"
"I'll take it with me to school, and we'll put them all in an envelope and send them to Santa."
The sizzle of Boris pouring batter into the skillet fills the silence.
I nod at Ira. "Okay. What about your list?"
"We're to write it in school."
What the hell? I won't be able to see it if he writes it in school. What if he thinks he'll get whatever he writes in the letter, and then Christmas turns out to be a major flop because I fail to deliver?
"Do you have Santa's address?" Boris flips the pancakes. "I want to send him a list too. I think I've been a good boy, for the most part, at least."
Ira rolls his eyes. "No, but I have two papers. You can write one, and Dad can write one, and I'll include it in the letter."
"Aww, thank you, Ira. I want those brown and white chocolates shaped as seashells."
I open the junk drawer and pull out a pen, then I leave the kitchen to put on a shirt.
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