Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I used to watch the show.

We've been in our house in the Hamptons since the week after school got out. Mom is on maternity leave for another month. I love that we are together and get to swim in the pool and the ocean and go to the beach and have cookouts. Every night we have read-out-loud hour but Hannah and Ivy are in bed by then. I don't think they would understand Charlotte's Web or Diary of a Wimpy Kid anyway. I read them Pretzel, which is my favorite book about dachshunds. I would point to the pictures on each page and then point at Scrapple. They gurgled so I decided they liked it. I asked them if they did and they said yes but why did Pretzel have less hair than Scrapple? I explained that there are three kinds of dachshund, short haired like Pretzel, long haired like Scrap, and also wire haired. The wire haired ones have kind of square heads and look like little old men even if they're young and girls. When these twins can sit up all by themselves I will try more books, but they are not quite 5 months old and still small for their age since they were premature.

By now everyone remembers that Hannah's crown is on the left and Ivy's is on the right but if they're wearing their sun hats you can't tell. Mom and Dad always know, and so does Julia, and I do most of the time. Otis said we should tattoo something on one of their feet but Dad said absolutely no tattoos in this house. And then Otis, who is really a smart-aleck sometimes, said, "How about tattoos in the loft? Ha, ha!" Mom has a tattoo, I've seen it, but she got it when she was a grown-up so that's different. Then I got an idea and wrote the babies' names on their sun hats with a Sharpie. I asked first so I wouldn't get in trouble for defacing property. Isn't deface a weird word? It sounds like taking someone's face off, which would really hurt. It should be demask. That would be better, like taking someone's mask off.

Anyway, I was saying how I love that we are together, but there are two things that are bothering me. The first one is that I know we are lucky to have a house at the beach which most people don't, but I miss the city. You probably think I'm dumb or crazy, but I do. I miss taking Scrapple for a walk on the sidewalk or park and he tells me all about what he's sniffing since I can't see a lot of it. He's so funny. Like the morning before we came out here he put his nose under a mailbox on the corner. "Ugh, this cheese that's smushed on the cement has been here at least three days. It smells like throw-up. Let's get out of here, Eliot." Also, one of Scrapple's favorite activities is chasing pigeons, and there are no pigeons in the Hamptons. I miss the planetarium and going out with Dad to get bagels which you can do here but you have to drive and that's not nearly as much fun. I miss the subway. I miss seeing bridges from the roof of our building, the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan Bridge and the 59th Street Bridge, and imagining what it was like before they were built. Another thing that's fun on our roof is trying to count all the water towers, but there aren't any here. I miss the library. The library in town is nice but it's small. When I was little I read an old story about the City Mouse and the Country Mouse. I'm not a mouse and I like the country a lot, but I think I'm really a City Kid.

The other thing that's bothering me is bigger. I'm kind of embarrassed to say anything. I went to Audubon Camp last week, which was fun and interesting to learn about all kinds of birds and see their different nests and things. Otis and Abby are not quite old enough for day camp, so they stayed home, where everyone else was, including Scrapple. What I am embarrassed to say is that I am kind of lonely, especially in the summer when I'm not in school. Even in school I'm lonely sometimes, but I'm so busy that it doesn't bother me as much. The two sets of twins have each other and it seems like a lot of things is the twins this and the twins that. I talked to Scrapple about it once during the winter, and we decided we would be secret twins. In my head I call us IT, short for interspecies twins because we are different species. He is a dog and I am a human. But he can't do everything with me, so it isn't totally like being twins. At school I have different kids in all my classes, instead of the same, like everybody else. And it will be worse in September when I start taking physics and math courses at Columbia and NYU with two whole other sets of kids there. And they're not even kids, they're almost adults. I don't mean I don't have friends, I have great friends, but I don't get to be with them nearly as much as if I were like other kids. I'm not like other kids, and right now that makes me sad. Usually I would talk to Mom or Dad but they are really busy with so many of us in the family now, and trying to get organized.

When I went to bed Scrapple came and stood up right next to my ribs. His whiskers tickled my arm.

"Are you okay, Eliot?"

"I'm feeling kind of blue."

"What does that mean? Your skin isn't blue. And your hair isn't. I saw that girl in the supermarket parking lot with blue and pink striped hair."

"It's an expression. It means sad. I read it in a book, so I Googled it but there wasn't any explanation of where it comes from."

"Why are you sad?"

"I'm lonely. Being different from other kids is harder right now."

"I wish I could help you not be blue."

"You do. I guess I'm feeling light blue, but if it weren't for you I'd feel dark blue."

"Let's go to sleep, Eliot. Maybe when you wake up in the morning you won't be blue any more. Maybe you'll be pink, like the girl with pink and blue hair. Doesn't Gram say that, 'I'm in the pink!'?"

That made me laugh. "I hope so, too. Night."

But this morning I still felt blue, even though I tried not to. Dad is a good fencer and Otis got interested so they've gone off to some fencing exhibition and Abby is spending the day playing at a friend's house. It's raining so I got out my Legos to build something in my room. I couldn't think of anything, so I guess I was just sitting there and staring at them. I didn't even hear Mom come in, so when she said my name I jumped.

"You're awfully quiet lately," she said. "Especially today. Do you mind if I join you?"

"No."

"What are you building?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You're the Emperor of Legos."

"Don't have any ideas, I guess. Aren't you nursing Hannah and Ivy?"

"I did, and I'm happy to say they're now napping." When she said she was happy it made me feel sad all over again, even though I like for Mom to be happy. And then she put her hand under my chin and tilted my head up. "But you don't look very happy. Did something happen?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because if you're not happy, I'm not happy."

And then even though I didn't want to bother her about it I suddenly told her. "I'm all by myself, Mom."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the only one who's not a twin. Or even a pair, like you and Dad."

She put her arm around my shoulder and hugged me tight against her side. "Oh, sweet pea, that just makes you even more special. There's only one of you because who could imagine two? I don't think the world would know how to deal with a set of Eliot Beckett-Castles."

"I mean that's only a little bit of it. I'm not like other kids."

"Of course you're not. Not in every way. You know that. You've known that for a long time. You're a one-of-a-kind, and that's fantastic."

"I just feel like I really am a sore thumb, Mom. I kind of stick out everywhere, even in the family. I'm always going to be a sore thumb who doesn't fit in with the fingers."

She didn't say anything right away and then when she did her voice was kind of gurgly. "Do you think you're feeling this way because you're going to go take college classes in a couple of months?"

"Partly."

"I can see how that would be scary, even with Dad right down the hall. Because if you don't want to do that, you don't have to. Dad and I never want you to feel uncomfortable. If you'd rather study quantum mechanics and linear algebra at home, with a tutor, we can do that. College can wait til you're older."

"Maybe."

I wasn't looking at Mom, but I could tell she was looking at me. And then she squeezed my knee and said, "You and Scrapple come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"Your favorite spot in the house."

"The window seat in your and Dad's room?"

"That's the place."

And then she held my hand while we walked down the hall and Scrapple's toenails went click-click-click-click on the bare floor. That's one of my favorite sounds. At the stairs she let go of my hand and said, "I'll be right back."

Before I could even figure out what was happening she came in the room with two bowls and two spoons. "What does Dad say fixes everything?"

"Ice cream."

"And what do I say?"

"That even if it doesn't fix it it still makes it better."

"And I hope it will now. I'm going to prop myself up and you can sit between my legs, and Scrapple can sit between yours."

So we got on the window seat and she handed me my ice cream. "Oooh, vanilla Swiss almond. Thanks, Mom. It's my favorite."

"I know," she said, and kissed me on top of my head. "I'd never forget that, even with all the craziness in the last few months."

"It'd be okay if you did."

She put her arms around me so her hands were in the middle of my chest. "No, it wouldn't be okay. But what's really not okay is that I didn't notice that something was bothering you until last night. You always come to me if you're upset. Was there a reason you didn't this time?"

Mom and Dad always say that we should be honest, so I decided I'd tell her. "You and Dad are really busy. I like that we have a big family, but there's three more of us with Hannah and Ivy and Julia. And even though Julia does a lot with them you still have to, too. I didn't want to bother you and Dad. People say, 'Oh, you're so smart,' but if I'm really so smart I should be able to figure things out by myself."

"Oh, Eliot. Oh, my best boy." She pulled me back towards her so that I was cuddled right against her. I could feel her heartbeat against my shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. This is not something you should have to figure out by yourself." Then I felt her sigh. It was like when the air leaks out of a balloon, except it happened in about a second. "This breaks my heart, what I've done, or not done. You know, you're so grown-up in a lot of ways, especially in your school work and in understanding so many things, and in being responsible, that I sometimes forget that you're a seven-year-old boy. A boy who likes to play ball and tag and hearts and Monopoly and do wheelies on his bike and cannonballs in the pool. A boy who's studying statistics and learning two other languages but loves to read Harry Potter and watch cartoons and make up jokes and games."

She was quiet for a while, so I just stayed still. It was cozy. It made me feel better. Then she put her hand on the side of my head, and tapped her finger. "In here, you're thirty, but in here"–she slid her hand down to my heart–"in here, you're seven." She cleared her throat. "You know, you're so funny, like Dad. It's one of the things I love most about you, and I love a billion things about you. You love to laugh, and you make us laugh. And so I didn't think about you feeling lonely. I should have. That's part of my job, a really important part. When Dad and I first found out how exceptional you were, when you taught yourself to read when you were barely a year old, I worried all the time that I wouldn't know how to raise you, that I would mess things up. And Dad said look what a happy boy Eliot is, that that was what mattered. He was right, and I stopped worrying so much. But you're growing up and the differences between you and other kids are a little harder, aren't they? And I see that what happened here at home made it harder for you, too. Abby and Otis were a little jealous of the babies, but you weren't. But now I understand that you feel a little isolated."

Scrapple turned around and nuzzled my ankle and I scratched his ear.

"Did Scrapple just say something?"

"Yeah. He said, 'Don't forget we're IT'."

"You're always it in my book, but what does he mean?"

"Not it like it, but I and T. Short for interspecies twins. That's what I decided Scrapple and I are."

Mom laughed, and I could feel that against my back. "That's my boy. Interspecies twins. I love that."

"Scrapple does, too."

"Do you think we should get him an extra tag for his collar that says IT?"

Scrap picked his head up and looked straight at her.

"Is that a yes?" she asked him. When he nodded she said, "Consider it done." She picked up her bowl of ice cream that she had left on the shelf, had a spoonful, and put it back. "I want to say something else, sweet pea. We all go through what are called periods of adjustment, for lots of reasons. I think you're having a big one right now, because you're in new territory, aren't you? Who knows where this amazing mind of yours will take you, but you're seeing that finding out what to do with it means not being just in the places where you feel comfortable. People have all kinds of gifts–they're musical, or they're athletes, or they're incredible cooks, or they can take apart a bicycle or a car engine–but yours is more complicated. Yours is something you're growing into, and Dad and I have to help you do that, and try to understand that it's hard but it's also wonderful. We can't answer a lot of questions you have about science or math, but we can help with other questions. I want you to know that. And I want you never, ever not to tell us, or just Dad, or just me, when something's bothering you, okay? We are never too busy for that and I wish it hadn't seemed that way to you."

"I guess having two more kids is a period of adjustment for you, Mom."

"Oh, you can say that again."

"I guess having two more kids is a period of adjustment for you, Mom."

That made her laugh, too. "You must be feeling a little better."

"I am."

"Good. But I have one more really, really, really important thing to say." She wrapped her hands around my hands, and they were right in the middle of my chest again. "Everybody is lonely sometimes, and they have to find out how not to be. How to be an individual but not be all by themselves. See this?" She picked up our hands together. "Our hands are a lot alike, yours and mine, even though yours are still a lot smaller. Our fingers are the same. And our thumbs. And this thumb"–she pulled mine sideways–"might be sticking out now. But"–she pressed it back–"it never really leaves your fingers. They're right next to them. They're connected." Then she laced her fingers through mine. "And they'll always be connected to mine, too. Always."

"Thanks, Mom." My voice sounded a little gurgly then, like hers had before. Like I was about to cry but not sad crying.

She dipped her head so her cheekbone was touching mine. "Do you feel a little better?"

"Yes."

"Did the ice cream help?"

"Yes. But not as much as you."

We just sat that way for a little while. Mom and I both like to be quiet sometimes. "Hey," she said. "Look. It stopped raining. Shall we take Scrapple for a walk?" And so we did, and he was very excited because something fell off the garbage truck down the street and he got to sniff a lot of gross things that he thought were mostly good.

Much later, when Scrapple and I were in bed and about to go to sleep, Mom and Dad came in to say good night. They both sat on the bed to talk with me for a while because she had told him about the conversation that we had this morning. And then Mom said, "You remember a few weeks ago when you said that Dad should write a book about coincidences and he said maybe you should write it together?"

"Yeah, and you said, 'That, gentlemen, is a magical idea'."

"Exactly. Dad and I were discussing that right before we came in here, and he has a very magical idea."

"What, Dad?"

"How about you and me writing a book about you and Scrapple?"

"Really?"

"Really."

Scrapple barked.

Dad wiggled his eyebrows. "I have a feeling that the four-legged member of the family just made a comment."

"Nope, he asked a question. He said, 'Can I be a detective?' "

All us humans cracked up, and Dad said, "That is brilliant. We'll have to think about this."

And then they kissed me good night, and Scrapple and I scrunched down in the bed and I didn't feel blue any more.

TBC

A/N Yes, a new series of books for Castle!