The gang had watched the pieces be reveled in silence, allowing Jack to have his moment. Now that they were all in the open, though, Ana spoke. "Jack, what is all this stuff?"
For a moment, Jack didn't respond, but then he turned to face them. His eyes were shinning and his face was the picture of happiness. "Guys, this is… Well, it's…."
He grasped for the words, but they wouldn't come, so he gave Mr. Kaufman a pleading look and the old man took over. "When Emma and Nathaniel Frost moved to Burgess, there wasn't much in this town in way of children's activities. They loved kids and didn't have their own yet, so they offered to organize some events for the local children. The biggest of these was a festival they held every summer. It started off as a small thing, just a couple of water games and a story teller, but by the time Jack came around, it was the most looked-forward-to day of the summer.
"The Frosts ran the whole thing, too. They organized the events, got the volunteers together, and funded a good portion of the expenses out of pocket. When they died, though, it died with them. No one wanted the task of trying to take their places. These things are the relics of that festival, the various set pieces Emma and Nathaniel made over the years. Jack, shall I explain their purpose or would you like to take over now?"
While Mr. Kaufmann had been speaking, Jack had finally reigned in his emotions and the question was all the prompting he needed to take over. The first piece he pointed to the piece he'd uncovered first, a large stage and parts of what looked like a fairy-tale castle. "This was the story stage, the first thing they ever made, and it was always at the very heart of the fair. The local acting group would always do a show, my mom and her friends would sing, and Mr. Kaufman would tell us stories."
He rushed to stand by a pile of identically-shaped pieces, each painted with its own color scheme. "And these were the game booths! We had different games every year. My parents would always ask me what I wanted to play and make that the main event."
He moved again, coming to rest by a larger version of the game booths that was painted with images of stuffed animals and toys. "And this was the prize booth! I always got to pick out the prizes with my mom."
Then Jack darted over to a pile of stakes and a large, white cloth. "Oh, and this was the food tent! My mom always made these little tarts in the shape of a heart and filled them with homemade jellies. There were caramel apples, too. Oh, and hot dogs! I ate so many one year I got sick!"
He came to the last part of the set now. It was a wide board with an arch cut out in the center and its sides were decorated with images of smiling children, fantasy creatures, and vibrant colors. "And this was the official entrance, not that most people used it. It was more of a photo opportunity than anything else, though it did have one other duty."
He knelt down beside the arch as he said this and took it in his hands, but realized quickly it was too big to life solo, so he said, "Aster, can you help me with this?"
The Australian quickly joined him and, together, they raised the arch to its standing height. Once it was upright, the duo saw that there were braces that could be pushed out to make the arch free standing attached to its back. They moved the bracers out from their resting position to their supporting one and then let go of the heavy piece of wood.
Now that they weren't busy keeping the thing from falling over, Aster could see that the back of the arch was covered in a rainbow tapestry of handprints.
Only Jack and Aster could see them, though; so they motioned for the others to join them. Once they were all able to see, Jack explained, "Every year, anyone who helped with the fair could put their handprint of the back of the arch and sign their name."
Jack began to point out different handprints from over the years, reminiscing about the things those people had done, until he came to the bottom of the arch. In sky blue paint were two hand prints, side by side – his parents'. His voice faltered for a moment, but managed to finish with a quick, "And that's everything."
"Wow."
Jack grinned appreciatively at Aster's reaction and motioned around the room saying, "Go ahead, look around."
Jack watched as they explored until his eyes met those of Mr. Kaufman. The two shared a series of looks, an unvoiced conversation. When they'd finished, both were smiling: Mr. Kaufman with immense pride and Jack with a mix of embarrassment and determination.
His mind made up, Jack walked through the room and came to stand by Aster's side. While the Australian looked at the imagery painted on the face of one of the game booths, Jack spoke. "So, think we could repaint all of this by Saturday?"
"Probably." Then Aster realized what Jack had asked and he turned to stare at his friend in horror. "WHAT?"
Jack ignored his second reaction and beamed at him. "Great! A couple of us could come tomorrow after school and paint while the rest work on finishing up the preparations for Saturday. Or we could even start tonight!"
They were all staring at him now, but Jack ignored the stares. "Ana, do you think we can make these work for our layout? There aren't enough booths, only eight, but we could set it up so that we had a booth and then a boothless table and then a booth. That would make everything feel like it had its own area, at least."
Ana gaped at him. "Jack, these things are all you have left from your parents; we can't just repaint them!"
He ignored her, too. "And Nick, can you check over everything and make sure it's still in good condition? I'm pretty certain it will be, but you can't be too careful with things like this."
"Jack, we can't…"
Jack rolled his eyes and finally acknowledged his friends protests. "Guys, my parents made these things to bring happiness to children. For seven years they've laid down here, collecting dust, bringing joy to no one but termites and spiders. If I didn't use these them to make our fair be the best it could be then what was the point of keeping them all these years? The might as well have been firewood."
He smiled at the gang and continued. "My parents left these thing to me so that I could use them to continue their work, not so that I could look at the pretty pictures they painted on them. It's time that I did that."
No one said a word. Then, Aster ran his tan hand along the blue paint of the game booth beside him and sighed. "They're a different size then our booths were, but with a little redesign I can make them work. There's plenty of paint left."
Ana moved her right arm so that it was resting loosely on her left, a nervous posture she sometimes adopted, and said, "They look like they're actually bigger than our booths, truth be told, and your idea for the layout would work perfectly."
"I'll start looking over them now to make sure they're structurally sound," added Nick.
Jack gave his Christmas-loving friend a small bow as the large teen began to look over the pieces of the stage.
It was awkward at first, making plans to remodel these things, but Jack's enthusiasm for the project soon had the gang laughing and smiling once more.
After Nick had given the all-clear for using the summer festival pieces, the gang had driven back to Narvon and Nick had collected the paint from his workshop as Jack and Aster changed into old clothes and borrowed the Wilder's car. Then they'd swung by Ana's, where Nick had gone to work on the remaining preparations, collected the paints, and driven back to Burgess to get started repainting, leaving the others to work on the last minute-details for the fair. Now it was time to get to work, but not before completing one, final task…
A camera flash lit up the tiny room, illuminating the painted wood of the final game booth.
"That's the last one," Jack said, turning off Ana's camera.
Aster nodded. "Ready to get painting?"
Jack grinned and gave his friend a thumbs up before adding, "I still can't believe that you're letting me help you with this!"
"And I can't believe you're letting us paint over these!" Aster replied, shaking his head in amusement. When he'd asked Jack if he'd like to help paint, the pale teen had been elated. To Aster, it had only seemed right that Jack should have a hand in any changes made to his inheritance.
Jack carefully placed the camera back in its protective case and said, "Stop acting so guilty! I wanna do this!"
Aster made a grunting noise and started to unload the painting supplies from a canvas bag. "Alright, well, the first things we're gonna repaint are the game booths."
He opened a can of white paint and dumped a good portion of it out into a metal tray. Then he squirted a bit of light-blue paint into it and mixed the two together before adding a bit more white. Once he'd mixed the concoction, Aster let the mixed paint drip off the end of a stirrer as he examining the color. A nod of approval later, he was motioning for Jack to join him. Together, they laid out a tarp along the floor of the main room and carried out the first of the booths, placing it on top of the plastic material.
At Aster's insistence, Jack made the first stroke, covering up the pink and green of a flower filled field with wintry white. Aster pretended to not notice as Jack's hands shook or the deep, steadying breath the albino took after he had finished the motion. He simply smiled back when Jack gave him his trademark grin.
After a long period of near-silent painting, the first booth was done and they stood up, giving their aching knees a break and taking a chance to admire their work. It was nowhere near as fancy as Aster's original creations, but it would do. In place of the finely-detailed images of curling frost, snow covered villages, and moonlight skaters that had decorated many of the original booths, this one was a sunny winter day with snowmen in the foreground and a snowy forest of pines in the background.
When he looked at Jack's portion of the painting, Aster looped a paint covered hand around the smaller teen's neck and let a noise of appreciation escape his dark lips. "You aren't a half bad painter, Frostbite."
"Neither are you," Jack replied with a grin, making Aster laugh as he headed back into the storage room to get the next booth.
Together, they worked into the wee hours of the morning, managing to finish repainting all of the gaming booths before tiredly calling it quits and heading home. The drive back to Narvon passed in a stream of good-natured jibes and argument that only ended when Aster dropped an exhausted Jack off at the Overland's at nearly two in the morning.
Only when Aster's car had disappeared into the night did Jack turned around and faced the Overland's house. After everything that had happened at the hospital, he wasn't sure he wanted to see either of his foster parents just yet.
Unsurprisingly, he didn't have a choice. They were still up and waiting for him in the kitchen.
"Jack, please come in here."
Jack obliged his foster father's request reluctantly and took his usual seat at the wooden table. The Overlands were huddled together at the far end, looking just as tired as he felt.
Once Jack was seated, Mrs. Overland said, "Jack, where have you been?"
"I was helping with preparations for the Christmas fair, ma'am."
His return to his old formality made Mrs. Overland wince, but he pretended not to notice it and simply continued his explanation.
"I apologize for worrying you. I hadn't realized I'd be getting home so late."
This was the Jack they'd lived with for all those years, the polite young man who was always smiling, but never warm. They could clearly see that their actions at the hospital had ruined all of the headway the pseudo-family had made since September.
"Jack, we're the ones who need to apologize." Mrs. Overland reached out to take Jack's hand, but stopped herself. "We didn't even give you a chance to explain yourself at the hospital. We immediately believed the police and that was wrong of us."
"We know that things can't go back to the way they were right away, but we want you to know…"
"Stop," Jack cut his foster father off, his expression troubled. He didn't want to hear this. "I… it's just…"
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a groan of annoyance. "Okay, let's try this again. I can't forgive you for the hospital, not completely, not yet."
Mr. Overland's shoulder slumped and Mrs. Overland turned her gaze to her hands, which were firmly clasped in her lap. There was nothing they could say to that. They had been in the wrong and they knew it.
"But I also can't entirely blame you for how you acted." Jack was looking out the kitchen window now, frosty eyes focused on the winter sky as he continued on slowly, pondering each word before he said it. "You're used to me being a troublemaker and having to clean up my messes. While I still can't believe you thought I'd do something as horrible as start that fire, I can believe you would be more… inclined to believe the police over me."
He rose from the table and pushed in his chair, then looked at his foster parents. "Though I get that, it doesn't change the fact that you wouldn't even hear my side. I… I need time before we have this talk. That's the best I can offer you right now."
He turned to leave, but then a thought occurred to him, though he didn't turn around when he gave it voice. "I turn eighteen on Thursday. If you want, I'll pack my things and be gone by the end of the day. I'd like to stay here, though, at least until the end of high school, if you'll let me. I can pay you room and board with the money I'll be able to access once that I'm of age."
"Jack, you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you need, and you don't need to pay us." Mr. Overland sounded so defeated when he said these words that Jack almost turned around and smiled at the man, but he didn't. No more false smiles.
Instead, he nodded and left the room, then climbed the old stairs and fell into his bed. The Overlands would never be his parents, but at least he didn't need to worry about finding a new home come Thursday.