Emil

He honestly didn't know what to make of this family. Why put a guest in a room with a known flooding problem? He would have to ask the parents. Lukas didn't seem like he was involved in that, but he spoke about it like it was nothing. And the way he stared at him . . . like he was examining him, judging him. It was one of the reasons why he didn't like people much. Maybe today, he'd get out of the house, take a few pictures, explore the area a bit. He desperately hoped that the Bondeviks wouldn't try to bond with him.

"Good morning, Emil. You may have whatever you like for breakfast." He waved to Mrs. Bondevik, who watched the news while sipping orange juice. The report was in Norwegian, but she put on Icelandic subtitles when Emil asked. He liked to watch the news, even if he made no move to fix the world's problems. He just liked to be aware.

"Swedish police are still on the lookout for Berwald Oxenstierna, refugee from St. John's Centre for Youth Correction. Oxenstierna, aged 20, escaped on April nineteenth of last year. Authorities have speculated that Oxenstierna is dangerous; the night he escaped, eleven security guards lost all ability to move. To this day, none of them had ever recovered. Oxenstierna is expected to have fled to Finland, but Norwegians should be aware . . ." The screen showed a security video of an incredibly tall man escaping through a window, with the eleven unmoving guards. When the clip ended, the news showed the profile of a man with short, pale-blonde hair, no expression, and the most terrifying glare Emil had ever seen.

"So, is there anything you want to do today?" It took a moment for him to register Mrs. Bondevik's question. He shrugged. "The plumbers are coming, to fix the flooding issue in the guest room. I'm so sorry about that; I completely forgot about it! So, they'll be at our house today, and I thought we could all go out and have fun." Mr. Bondevik entered the room, coffee in hand. Absently, he poured some for Lukas and Emil, who accepted it. He drank it black, as he had a strange affinity for the bitter taste. "Do you want to shop, or go to any museums, or anything that comes to mind?" Emil mentally groaned. He would have to bond with this family after all.

"I dunno," Emil shrugged, suggesting nothing. He hadn't researched the area, and he hadn't planned on socializing with his mother's friends. His mind wandered to the frightening Swedish man on the news. Eleven security guards lost all ability to move . . . what did he drug them with? The convict had to be a chemistry genius. Did he even drug them? Emil pushed the thought from his head. Just because you have weird abilities doesn't mean other people do. Somehow, that thought scared him even more than the first.

"Well, the last time you were here, you were about four years old! You can't possibly remember much; we need to take you sightseeing!" For a split second, Lukas's eyes widened. Emil swore he saw it, but when he looked at the young adult again he appeared bored, expressionless, tired. "Your mother told me how much you love photography; you could take a couple of pictures—"

"Yeah, but I'd prefer to do that alone." Emil hadn't meant to respond to that. He just heard an idea he didn't like. "Er, I usually do that alone." Mrs. Bondevik did not look offended; instead, she nodded.

"I don't know what's with you boys. Lukas spends all his time by himself. He has no friends, and I don't see how."

"I don't need them," Lukas insisted. "Did you buy more of my medication, like I asked you to?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot! I was so busy preparing for Emil's arrival that I—"

"It's okay, just needed to know." Emil was under the impression that Lukas was more upset than he led on.

"Why don't you and Lukas shop in the town square? There's a lot of bookstores; do you like to read, Emil? Lukas likes it. And you can also check out the boutiques, and there's a candy store . . ." Figuring Lukas wouldn't talk to him, Emil found this to be an excellent idea, though shopping bored him. Even so, he had agreed to the plan. He stood with the pale blonde at the start of a sidewalk, watching crowds of people walk by. Emil shoved his hands into his pockets and began to walk forward. This is awkward, he thought, checking to make sure Lukas followed him. He wondered if he even had to stay with him.

"Can we stop at the drugstore?" Lukas asked suddenly. "My parents don't quite understand just how important my medication is."

"What do you even have?" Emil wondered. Lukas thought for a moment, his face blank.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Lukas walked ahead of him, probably to lead him in the direction of the drugstore.

"I can't describe it." Emil was certain that this man was the strangest person he had ever met. How was there medication for an indescribable condition? He stared at the back of Lukas's head, noticing an odd little curl sticking out. Lukas had no bounce in his step, and his pace was slow, yet Emil felt urgency in his every step. He figured he wouldn't ask any more questions about Lukas. Emil didn't think he could ever understand him.

Emil wandered around the drugstore as Lukas bought the medication he needed for his odd condition. He tried to pay as little attention to him as possible; he didn't want to trouble himself with other people's secrets. As he walked aimlessly, he picked up a box of mints, figuring he'd pay for them when Lukas was ready to leave. He walked further and caught sight of the week's newspaper, and found the same runaway from TV on the front page. Curiously, he picked it up and began to read:

Over a year ago, Berwald Oxenstierna, age 20, escaped from St. John's Centre for Youth Correction, a private institution that specializes in correction of homosexuality. The institution is not government-sponsored and its inhumane treatment of patients has generated much hatred from the general population of Sweden. The controversy over St. John's, however, is no greater than the debate over the search for Oxenstierna, who is alleged to have put eleven security guards into a comatose.

"Ready to go?" Emil found Lukas standing behind him with a plastic bag in hand. He folded the newspaper, which attracted Lukas's attention.

"Do you know how he did it?" Emil asked, though he didn't expect him to know. Lukas shrugged.

"Does it matter? He's not coming here any time soon." The teenager shrugged as he put the newspaper back on the rack. He followed Lukas to the door, only to have an extremely loud beeping noise cut through the air.

"Did you pay for that?" Emil shouted over the alarm. Lukas narrowed his eyes.

"Of course I did; I'm not an idiot!" A tall, acne-covered employee walked over to the two boys, his face fixed in a threatening scowl.

"Empty your pockets and your bag." With a jolt of horror, Emil found the tin of mints in his pants pocket. He had forgotten to pay, and he didn't like the look on the employee's face.

"Thief!" he exclaimed, pointing to the white-haired boy. "Do you think you're rebellious, stealing from a drugstore?" Emil felt his face redden.

"I'm not a thief, and I was going to pay!" He clutched the mints angrily in his hand, only to find that the box was melting . . . Emil gasped. Why was he so stupid, getting angry in front of two strangers? It was a simple accusation—but he was a jerk, and he deserved it.

The man stared at Emil, bewildered. "What the hell is wrong with you, freak?" His hands looked as if they were made of lava, and burned just as intensely. "Are you that Oxenstierna guy or something?"

"I will pay you for the goddamn mints," Emil spoke behind clenched teeth. "I had no plans to walk out—" All of a sudden, the evil scowl the man wore vanished. Instead, he appeared utterly confused, as if he had no idea what he had been doing. When Emil stared at his hands, he found pale, near-white skin in the place of burning heat.

"I'm sorry, that was a terrible mistake of mine! The alarm must be broken. The receipt is right in my hands, see? I'm not going to bother you anymore, kid. Sorry about that." What? Before he could even begin to question what had happened, he felt himself dragged out of the door. Lukas released him once the two were outside, and gestured towards the side of the building. He felt his heart pound; in the midst of his anger, he had completely forgotten about Lukas.

"What the hell was that?" he asked. It was the same question the stern man had asked, but it seemed slightly kinder. Emil frowned.

"I don't know, do you really expect me to know?" Great. On his first day with his unfamiliar relatives, his cousin already thinks that he's inhuman. He sighed as he leaned against the wall, watching his feet. After a short pause, Lukas joined him, faced him, and smirked.

"I don't think there's a pill that can hide that, Emil."