Hello everyone! Here's some more!

It had been two months. Allison and Ross sat with the dragon kids everyday, and Allison now sat with Emily and Charlie in history class. Charlie had finally stopped glaring at Allison and Ross every time he saw them, and had even gone to the park to play soccer with Ross last week. He even smiles occasionally, Allison thought with a grin, a feat I used to think impossible for him.

Allison frowned suddenly. Speaking of Charlie, where was he? The bell was about to ring, but she'd seen neither Charlie nor Emily all day. She looked up to see both of them charge through the door just as the bell rang. "Sorry, Mr. MacIntyre," Emily panted.

The teacher raised one dark eyebrow, but only said, "Just sit down."

Ignoring the stares of their classmates, the two wove their way through the classroom until they reached Allison and plopped down on either side of her. At the front of the room, Mr. MacIntyre cleared his throat roughly, and the entire class turned to him as one.

"Now that everyone is here, maybe we can get on with the lesson." He turned toward the board began writing, continuing his lecture from the day before.

"Where were you guys?" Allison whispered. Without taking her eyes from Mr. MacIntyre, Emily responded, "Someone wrote graffiti all over our lockers during break. They did yours too, you know."

"What?" Allison hissed. She hadn't needed to go to her locker at break. She marveled at Emily's calm, but when she took a closer look at her friend, Allison noticed that Emily's eyes were not watching Mr. MacIntyre's lecture at all. Emily was staring straight ahead with a pained expression filling her brown eyes. Allison turned to look at Charlie. He met her gaze evenly, his lips tight and his jaw clamped shut. Feeling drained, Allison shut her eyes and leaned back in her seat. She didn't regret her decision, but she didn't think she'd ever get used to the consequences.

This was but another of the long string of abuses that Allison and Ross had been subjected to since becoming friends with the dragons. At first, some had come up to her in supposed friendship, delicately saying that, to some students, not them of course, she was beginning to be associated with "that odd family", and surely she didn't want that, did she?

When Allison explained firmly that it was her intent to be associated with "that odd family", they had all given her disgusted, pitying looks and walked away. From that day forward Allison had become a target for Castlewood High's wrath. Anonymous shoves in the hallway, whispered threats from around a corner, taunting laughter whenever she passed by; Allison had never been more grateful for her best friend. Though he did become friends with the other kids in their group, Ross still stuck by her and managed to be around whenever she needed him. A pugnacious, muscular soccer player at her side tended to discourage the worst of the cruelty.

Allison was also grateful for her new friends. Karen's confidence was so contagious that some of it was bound to rub off occasionally, and Hannah would often deflect some of the pain by hilariously comparing their situation to some random moment in history. Emily had quickly become her closest friend besides Ross, and Allison delighted in having a friend that was a girl for the first time in years. The three younger ones always tried their hardest to cheer the others up, and she knew now that even Charlie would comfort her if he had to.

They formed a tight-knit group, and despite everything they had to endure at school, the place became a haven of sorts. There truly was safety in numbers. No one mentioned going over to each others' houses, every one of them afraid that they or their parents would say or do something to break the strong bonds they forged at school.

"Hey Mom, hey Dad." Ben filed into the kitchen behind his older siblings. Clefspeare watched the kids from under the kitchen table, his furry brown tail thumping against the floor. His parents looked up as one. Their worried faces smoothed instantly.

Ben frowned. "What's wrong?"

Charlie and Karen, who had already started toward the stairs, stopped abruptly and looked back curiously. Billy and Bonnie Bannister exchanged a quick look. Billy looked his youngest son in the eyes as he spoke. "There's nothing wrong." He smiled softly, "Everything's okay."

Their father having dispelled their momentary worry, Charlie and Karen continued up the stairs. Ben didn't move. He didn't think his dad was lying, but Ben still felt that something was not quite right.

He may not have had Billy's danger sense, but he recognized the feeling of impending doom. As his parents began to move around the kitchen, Ben stirred. When he saw his mother step toward the sink full of dishes, he hustled across the room and beat her to it. "I can do them."

Bonnie looked surprised. "Thank you, Ben."

Guilt churned through him at that look. He couldn't remember the last time he had helped his mother or father with anything. Sure, he did his weekly chores, but not without major griping. A knot suddenly rose in his throat. His arms elbow-deep in soapy water, he watched his parents.

Billy crossed the kitchen, carrying a pot to the stove. Even when wearing a flowery apron and stirring a pot of soup, his father retained a grace and economy of movement familiar to all swordsmen. Mentally, Ben compared his appearance with his father's, but he already knew he favored his grandfather far more than his father. It was Charlie who had inherited Billy's looks. For a moment, a sharp pang of envy went through him, envy for this connection between Charlie and Billy.

On the other hand, all three of the Bannister children had inherited Bonnie's bright blue eyes, much to Billy's delight. Ben's mother was at the side counter, chopping carrots for the soup. All the while, she kept up a conversation with Billy, and every so often both of them would share a smile, a laugh, or a glance. For the first time, it hit Ben that his parents were not just his parents.

A cold wet nose pushing into his hand made him flinch. Ben looked down, and saw that the dishes had vanished from the sink. Clefspeare was sitting at Ben's feet, his head cocked to one side.

Absently, Ben scratched behind the dog's ears. He heard his dad call the other two down and he settled heavily in his usual place at the table. He was quiet during dinner that night.

Charlie was quiet as well, leaning forward slightly to make room for his wings, but Ben noticed his eyes took in every detail of what was going on around him like a feral cat. Despite his silence, his eyes shone with unspoken words.

Karen, on the other hand, never halted her animated speech. She never stopped moving once. He knew she was athletic; that strength and stamina were the gifts passed to her by her dragon blood, but she was not just energetic, she was unable to sit still. It was funny how he could live in the same house with his family and yet not know these things. He'd never seen his family like this before. It was like meeting them for the first time.

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