Author's Note

These chapters are only being uploaded all together because I'm leaving tomorrow for a 20 day vacation and just felt that I wanted to put this out.

Disclaimer: I own rights to nothing, least of all Howl's Moving Castle

Where All Past Years Are

In Which Howell Makes Strange Things Happen

Unlike her friends, Megan was always painfully aware of her sibling. She almost always knew where he was and frequently what he was doing. It was like he would tug on the corner of her mind like he tugged on the hem of her skirt, demanding her attention.

It started sometime after he turned two. The same time that the novelty of having a son like Howell had begun to wear off for their parents. Megan wasn't a fool; she knew very well that her parents had never planned on her. The fact that her parents got married seven months before she was born was proof of that. Eight years later they had settled back and decided to have a child properly. Howell played well into their plans as a gorgeous and remarkably even tempered baby boy.

Sometimes in those early years, Megan thought she hated Howell because their parents were too busy cooing over Howell's first spit up to pay attention to her first day of school.

But then their parents started losing interest in Howell, just like they lost interest in everything else and from then on Megan was the most important person in Howell's life.

Their parents went back to living beyond their means and a parade of endless parties with Howell settling quietly into the background.

Howell didn't seem to notice at first. He was far too interested in making trouble for his nannies. They kept quitting because strange things seemed to happen around Howell. Megan distinctly remembered one time when Nanny Applebaum served Howell carrots and celery for a snack and came back to find him munching on cookies and milk. Nanny Applebaum had resigned not long after that.

Howell was nearly four then and Megan twelve. Their parents had started cutting their already monstrous expenses by sending Howell to preschool and making Megan a babysitter.

Howell did not like preschool. He did not like kids his age. He did not like the fact that Megan could not play with him because she had homework. Thus began Howell's tantrums.

His mother set quite an example for him in this regard. Mrs. Jenkins was not happy playing second fiddle to her husband and made sure this was abundantly apparent at every opportunity. Everyone knew their marriage was falling apart and whispered about it amongst themselves over Megan's head like being a child made her deaf and stupid.

Mr. Jenkins had as little tolerance for Howell's tantrums as he did for his wife's, but Mrs. Jenkins was quite happy to be given an opportunity for a scene and catered to them shamelessly.

They were hosting a party one evening. Megan was thirteen and Howell was five and a half. Regardless of the fact that his birthday had been only a month ago. Megan remembered being forced into a magenta taffeta thing and being stationed at the door to take coats. She knew exactly what had happened to that dress. She had taken exquisite pleasure in burning it years later.

Mrs. Jenkins sat at her make up table, admiring her reflection in the mirror. Howell looked up at her from his place on the floor. He'd had a fit when his father had tried to force him into his suit and thus been passed off to his mother. Mrs. Jenkins had cooed over the small boy as he dressed and told him to sit quietly while she fixed her hair.

She motioned to him then and he stood up smartly and allowed her to straighten and fuss and run a comb through his fine jet black locks.

"Your eyes are your best feature." She told him quietly. "They're just like the ocean. Where could you have gotten eyes like that?"

She laughed lightly. "Ah well. Would you do me the honor of escorting me downstairs?"

Howell automatically offered his arm and she bent down a bit to lay her hand on top of his. Their guests clapped as they came down the stairs, charmed by the boy's behavior. A smile tugged at Megan's lips.

"Patricia!" One of the ladies cried, coming over and hugging Mrs. Jenkins.

"Sarah! It's been absolutely forever hasn't it?"

"Oh it has! Howell is so big now! And such a little gentleman!"

Howell smiled and bowed lightly. His mother beamed at him.

"We brought Edwin with us, we though the two could play together."

A pudgy boy peeked out from behind the shelter of his mother's skirts.

"Oh what a splendid idea! Howell, why don't you go show Edwin the hors d'oeuvres table?"

Howell did not want to show the other boy the hors d'oeuvres table. He was rather afraid that if the other boy got any bigger he might step on him and not notice.

"Yes mother." He answered, then turned to Edwin. "Would you care to accompany me for some refreshments?"

The ladies tittered, amused. Edwin nodded. Howell was not impressed. Nor was his impression made any better by Edwin attacking the dainty food stuffs with all the zest of a starved lion. Howell wanted to grab one of the crab cakes, but was rather afraid that he might loose a finger in the process and thus held his hands safely behind his back.

"You know," Edwin began, obviously more comfortable when away from the adults and chewing with his mouth open. Howell resisted the impolite urge to wrinkle his nose. "You're kind of girly."

Howell blinked. What?

"I mean," Edwin explained, stuffing one of Howell's coveted crab cakes into the gaping black hole in the center of his face, not that Howell was bitter or anything, "You do all that fluffy stuff like bow and say 'excuse me' and stuff. And you're small. And your hair's kind of long. You just look like a girl."

Howell was trying not to scowl. His mother said he shouldn't because it would give him wrinkles. She said this in such a way that Howell was certain that wrinkles were a very painful thing.

"You know what my mom says?" Edwin continued, seemingly oblivious to Howell and talking more to his food. "She says that you're stupid too. That all the teachers complain about you."

"Do you know how to read?" Howell asked cuttingly. He'd had just about enough of Edwin regardless of what his mother had said.

Edwin eagerly grabbed a large piece of chocolate cake off the tray the caterers had brought out. "I read a little." He answered between shoveling spoonfuls of chocolate cake into his mouth. "Only adults know how to really read stupid."

Howell took a deep breath, why did he have to be polite when this pig came into his house and started insulting his family?

"Well I do know how to 'really read' and I'll give you a piece of advice. They're not teaching you anything in school that you couldn't learn out of a book."

Edwin seemed to consider this a minute, before laughing out loud. Howell almost ducked to escape any flying food projectiles.

"You are stupid, aren't you? You know what else I heard from my mom? She says that your parents are broke and that they're going to sell your sister before they give up their new car."

Howell could not take it anymore. He wasn't quite sure what Edwin was talking about anymore...who would want to buy his sister? But he didn't like the boy's tone. He was trying to think of something polite and scathing to excuse himself when he suddenly found Edwin's face planted in his chocolate cake.

The boy pulled himself out of the desert and wiped the frosting from his eyes, letting the remains of the cake fall to the floor.

"What did you do?" Edwin demanded. He did not wait for an anser, but scuttled off back to his mother.

Hours later Megan found Howell huddled in the corner of his bedroom talking in quiet tones to his spiders again. Megan would have rather squashed the eight legged creepy crawlies, but Howell like them for some reason.

"Hey." Megan called. She hopped up on the bed and winced as the taffeta followed the motion in noisy symphony.

"I didn't do anything." Howell announced.

Megan paused. "He wouldn't have just smashed his own face into the cake on purpose Howell."

The boy sighed and crawled up on the bed next to her. "Maybe I wanted it to happen." He admitted. "And maybe it was my fault, but I swear I didn't touch him!"

"I believe you."

"You do?"

Megan smiled. "Yeah. You're always been a little weird like that." She said, not without affection.

Howell didn't quite manage a smile. "He was saying some really mean things."

"Like what?"

"He said that Mother and Father would sell you to pay for the car, but I didn't quite understand what that meant."

Megan froze a moment. "Don't-don't worry about that. It's not true anyway. What else did he say?"

Howell drew his knees to his chin. "He called me a girl. And he said I was stupid. But he doesn't even know how to read!"

Megan smiled indulgently. "You know you're not a girl, and you know that you're not stupid. He's probably just jealous you know."

"Why would he be jealous?"

Megan usually didn't cater to Howell's fishing for compliments, but he'd had father yelling at him this evening, so she thought she'd make an exception.

"You're practically a certified genius Howell; you taught yourself to read and you're barely five! And I don't have to tell you how good you look, you own a mirror."

"But you look just like me." Howell protested. "Why don't you have people get jealous of you?"

Megan knew that Howell didn't mean to be insulting; he probably honestly didn't understand.

"Because I don't have your...charisma."

Any other little boy would have asked what it meant, but Howell just nodded, whether because he already knew or because he intended to spend some time with the dictionary later Megan didn't know.

"I wish Mother and Father weren't so busy all the time." Howell said abruptly.

Megan blinked. "I know, but maybe it's better this way."

Howell laid his head on his knees. "I don't like it this way."

"You want to change it?"

Howell paused. "I don't know."

Things would change for the Jenkins children, and they would change far quicker than anyone expected.