The rest of the week passed and each day was a slightly softer blow. Felldoh's friendship certainly made it easier. The grip of his novelty was loosening on the Noonvalers, but he had punched a beast. Classmates gave him a wide berth. Fine by him. Outside of school hours it was quiet; out of boredom Martin even did all his homework and got a head start on reading assignments. Definitely a new me, Martin thought. He let the book drop to the floor and gazed at his empty home.

His first weekend alone. Martin almost wanted to call Manny, but the agent had a life, and it was a shaky almost . Instead Martin put on his scuffed sneakers and took to the streets. In the old days, he and Timbal and the crew would be out late into the night, doing everything and nothing at all. Back then he'd been as stupid as he was happy, messing around with his friends. If only he could talk to -

Martin turned up music volume until it hurt and jammed his hands into his pockets. What good would it do to think about that?

He prowled the streets of the town until the sun wearied and waned. Noonvale was undeniably beautiful, overflowing with greenery and blue skies. There were luscious parks and gardens, vibrant stores, maintained trees lining each street, a wealth of generous public resources. (Martin made a mental note of the library; it seemed like a good place to hide in plain sight when the emptiness of this apartment wore him down again.) But as inviting as it was, it didn't feel real. Martin watched a family escort their small child from the store as the infant gleefully waved his new toy around. How could people live here? It seemed too idyllic. He tried to imagine their lives after they passed from his and found that he couldn't.

Martin walked, and walked, and walked. He ran out of things to see and walk to, and it was getting late. He had a small living allowance, maybe he could drop into a fast food place and get something to eat on his way back – a small treat to look forward to, a goal.

He was cutting through yet another park that had emptied out with the daylight when he saw a flash of someone familiar. The kid he'd met earlier that week, who's name he'd already forgotten. The kid looked unhappy, and was saying something to the individual next to him. Whatever he said got him a shove right into the tree.

Immediately Martin stepped behind a trunk to watch the rest of the scene unfold, yanking his earbuds out of his ears. With difficulty he could hear violent segments of the conversation.

"-did you say to me?!" Someone yelled.

The kid's reply was too low to discern, and Martin saw another figure step toward him. They were making the guy press his back into the tree to keep his distance. Martin edged closer.

"Yeah you've got no choice. You know what you owe-"

"Don't owe you shi-" The kid started to shout, but he doubled over from a blow to his stomach.

That was all Martin needed; he leapt toward them and was on the bullies in a second. A weasel and a rat. The element of surprise allowed him to get a solid two punches on the weasel, sternum and nose, who collapsed into a bush. When Martin turned to take care of the rat, he saw he was long gone, running away as fast as he could. Typical.

"Martin!"

The kid's shout made Martin's head snap back around just in time to see the weasel try to bodyslam him. Martin partially twisted out of the way but still got clipped and ended up shouldering the ground, wrestling with the weasel.

"The fuck do you want!" the weasel spat in his face. A fire licked at him inside. Martin rolled to the side and elbowed him under the jaw. That won him enough time to scramble to his feet and kick the guy in ribs. Again. And again.

Suddenly a hand gripped his wrist. Martin swivelled around to throw another punch but stopped just in time; it was the kid. His eyes were wide and wild, darting from Martin's face to the weasel panting with pain in the dirt. The heat of shame pulsed through him, which just made him angry again. Martin roughly tore his hand away, looking at the bully on the ground. He'd deserved it. Right?

The flames receded.

"Let's go," Martin muttered. "There could be more of them." And someone might have heard. The last thing he needed was a visit from the law, and worse, and someone notifying Manny.

The kid looked unsure but nodded. Whatever danger Martin posed, the bullies he'd been with before were probably worse. Martin inclined his head for him to follow, going back the way Martin had come and circling around to avoid whoever else might have come across the running rat.

"You hungry?" Martin asked. Brome, he remembered. That was the name.

Brome looked startled, and though he was still skittish, he hesitated. "Best to wait them out if there's people around here," Martin said gently. Brome agreed.

There was a diner nearby. They got a booth in the corner and Martin ordered them cokes. "You okay?" He finally asked.

Brome played with a straw wrapper. He took a shaky breath. "Yeah. I'm - yeah. Thank you. I would have been totally okay, you know, but I'm still glad you showed up. You didn't have to like, nearly kill the guy, though."

Martin shrugged a shoulder. "Those guys bother you a lot?"

Brome looked away. "Nah. Not really."

"Yeah? This is a typical Saturday - getting shoved around in the park?" At Brome's scowl, Martin added. "Did this have anything to do with you asking me to teach you how to punch?"

"Listen," Brome sighed. "I got into some trouble, okay? It's nothing big. They just like to pick on me."

The mouse did not like making eye contact when he lied. Martin sat back, stretching wide in his side of the booth. "'Bout what?"

"I don't have to tell you that."

Martin hummed, relenting. "Guess not." He could relate wanting to be left to his own devices, but there was definitely a mystery here. Martin was content to sit quietly until their food arrived and see what the silence would wring out of Brome.

A lot of chatter, it turned out.

"What were you doing around here?"

"Walking. Seeing the city."

"Right, you're new. City's a generous word for it." Brome rolled his eyes. "There's only like a hundred people here. I've lived here all my life, it's so boring. Not a lot of new kids come here. Well, there's a few Marshank folk." He wrinkled his nose. "That's where those - those jerks were from."

Martin had his chin in his paw. He raised an eyebrow in response. "Fates forbid that bad creatures come from Noonvale, huh?" He hadn't meant to let that slip out, but there it was.

Thankfully there was no offense and Brome had the grace to look a little ashamed. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. I sounded like my dad there for a sec." He shuddered. "Speaking of which. I should probably go home, but…" Brome looked outside the grimy diner windows, where orbs of light and movement and noise thrummed beyond.

"Need a ride?" Martin asked.

"Yeah. Do you mind?"

"I walked here."

"Oh, right," Brome deflated. He pushed his plate of food aside and rummaged for his phone. "I guess I can ask my sister, but…" he looked up at Martin desperately. "Please don't say anything to her. I promise it's not a big deal and she doesn't need to know, alright?"

Martin shrugged. "Know about what?"

Brome paused. "Exactly." He typed out a message. "Do you want a ride too? It's late."

"No thanks." If Martin had to deal with any more questions he'd go insane. It'd been a long time since he had talked this much, and he felt drained. The silence of his empty apartment didn't seem too bad now. Ha, and just this morning he'd been driven mad by the emptiness. Looks like he had no choice but to go crazy either way.

They finished their meals and Brome talked at him until a notification flashed on his phone and they got up to go. A car Martin had seen before in the school lot idled on the curb. Brome looked at it, then Martin. "Hey. Martin. Thanks for earlier, and, uh. Keeping me company and stuff." Brome flushed, embarrassed, but he smiled back at Martin's grin. Brome was a good kid.

Martin waved. "See ya at school." He turned away. He got a few steps down the street when Brome called again. "Hey! Wait!"

Martin turned to see him waving him back. "My sister wants to give you a ride," the young mouse explained.

His first instinct was to decline, but sitting down after a day of walking emphasized how tired he was. He didn't like to owe anybeast anything, but the kid owed him one. It was fair, right? Martin hesitated, and walked back. "Alright. Thanks."

He ducked into the backseat of the car. Brome's sister turned around in her seat to smile at him. "Hi! I think I've seen you around."

"That's who I was telling you about!" Brome said excitedly from the front seat. "The puncher."

Martin pressed himself into the pleather as if trying to escape his reputation, swallowing hard and shoving his hands in his pockets. He wasn't prepared for how pretty she was. Or for that introduction. "Hey. I'm Martin. Hope the ride is not too much trouble."

Gentle hazel eyes regarded him. There was a genuine smile in them. "Of course not! I'm Rose. I think we have a class together."

"Okay. Cool."

At her momentary silence Martin doubted himself. Was that not a normal thing normal people said? Why was talking so hard? He should have just walked home and kept his ineptitude to himself.

"Where can I take you?" Rose said, locking eyes with him in the rearview mirror. Martin gave them the address and listened to Brome's chatter, pretending that they had intended to meet up that day and they'd just walked further than anticipated, that's all. The kid's lies were of no concern to Martin, but he felt weird about playing along to Rose. So he opted to say nothing and stare out the window instead.

Martin got home twenty minutes later, kicking off his shoes and dropping onto his bed, fully clothed. Laying in the dark he stared up at the ceiling and reflected. Today had been… good. Weird, definitely. But it had succeeded in keeping his mind off things, and Brome was a nice kid, mysteries aside. He didn't even mind doing all the talking, which was a relief.

Martin rolled over. The weight of the day slipped from his shoulders and he fell asleep as he was. He dreamt, thankfully, of nothing.


Rose was, indeed, in one of his classes. She smiled and waved at him as he took his seat; his face flipped through it's catalogue of expressions until it settled on "ambivalent" as a failsafe and he nodded back. Martin slung his bag down and switched his brain to off as soon as the teacher arrived. He didn't mean to - the rest of the world moved despite him, carrying him along the inertia. Until -

"Partners?" Said a voice, and a notebook was slapped down on his desk.

Martin blinked up at Rose who was standing before his desk. She tilted her head, a faint smile. "Huh?" Martin said eloquently.

"Would you like to be partners," she reiterated. "You know. For the thing."

Martin squinted at the project instructions on the board. What class was this? History? "Right, the thing," he said. He was torn between relief at being rescued from being assigned a partner (a humiliation over which death would be preferred) and panic at fumbling his way around Rose. A few kids were looking at them curiously, but Martin shrugged and moved aside his stuff.

They started on the project, but mostly they talked. Rose wanted to know where he was from and how he liked the school. A predetermined city chosen by his case worker, and the school was fine. Why'd he move? Parents' jobs. Thinking of joining any clubs? Martin's eyes glazed over at the thought. The teacher tapping on their desk to remind them to focus halted their conversation for a little, but they were back at it before long.

"We'll have to finish this up before next week," Rose said as they packed their things. "We, ah, could work on this at the library after school if you want."

Martin swallowed back his agreement. Today was Monday. He had therapy.

"Sorry," he said. "Can't today."

But Rose smiled good-naturedly. "I'm sure we'll find time. Don't worry about it."

He wasn't. He had a whole evening of psychoanalytic fun to worry about. Hadn't they poked and prodded enough? The carefully crafted rooms, the hostile politeness, the questions . What happened? What did you see? How do you feel ?

All because Manny thought he had an anger problem. Martin grit his teeth. Bullshit.

"Martin?"

He snapped back to it. "Yeah. Sorry. We'll figure it out later."

If Rose found him strange she didn't show it. She waved him goodbye in the hallway and left Martin to the beaks of the vultures. Okay, so he was being dramatic – school wasn't that bad now that the staring was over with. He navigated the rest of the day in dread of what would come when the final bell rang and his appointment time crept closer.