Thanks to kristelalugo, hippiechick2112, Foreststar of Wind Clan, and ellie for reviewing! A few points were raised which I wanted to respond to. As to Hank being easy to see in the forest, Scott can't see colors so it is a little trickier. For us, absolutely! As for why Hank doesn't tell him what's going on... who says Hank knows? ;)

Scott tried to sulk. He genuinely did. Everything going on weighed hard on him, even though he knew it wasn't personal. Alex was grieving. Scott knew that. It still upset him that his brother was so ready to throw a SoCo bottle at his head. And Ororo… maybe her being so annoyed with him was a girl thing.

Besides, Doug said people liked and trusted him.

So why did it feel so personal?

Scott just wanted to sit on his own and be miserable. He had done it earlier and that took him to a sort of peaceful, if painful, place. Of course Hank put a stop to that outside. Inside, Scott wasn't the only one to hesitate at the dinner table.

Ororo and Ruth often used Arabic for private conversations. This was the first time Scott, Charles, and Hank had the distinct impression they were being talked about—mostly because they were all trying to understand the foods in front of them.

"Hawashi," Ruth said, pointing to what looked like flat bread stuffed with meat. "This is like… Egyptian hamburger. Koshari," was a bowl of red goop with bits and pieces in it. The goop looked almost like tomato sauce, which was probably why Scott thought he saw macaroni in it. "And this one you call garbanzo beans. But it is better."

Charles cleared his throat the way he did when he felt uncomfortable.

Ororo reached for the red goopy stuff. Scott went for what looked like a hamburger, even knowing he would never pronounce the name. New foods weren't too intimidating for him. He had never eaten Chinese food before coming here and that was delicious! So foods from different cultures didn't worry him.

"This is awesome!"

Ruth's response was automatic: "Don't talk with your mouth full. And thank you."

Scott nodded.

He still wished he were someplace else and couldn't bring himself to look at Charles, but he couldn't deny that this was a new, wonderful food.

While Hank, Ruth, and Charles shifted into a conversation about curriculum for rest of spring semester, Ororo caught Scott's attention and rolled her eyes. He couldn't do the same (or, he could, but it wouldn't make a difference with his glasses) so he nodded.

She leaned nearer to whisper, "Why are you being such a pisspot?"

"I'm not being a pisspot," he retorted. "Besides, who taught you that word?"

"It's a good word!"

"You did not need that word."

"I 100% needed that word."

"If you insist."

Ororo wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she punched him on the shoulder. He hit back. She shoved him.

Before they could devolve into a full-out brawl, Charles interrupted: "Honestly, you two. Most families don't behave this way!"

Ruth and Hank both laughed out loud. They didn't answer that and didn't need to. Most families absolutely behaved that way. Ororo was more like a brother than a sister to Scott and, like any teenage brothers, they were not above solving problems with their fists.

They stopped shoving and sat up straight.

"Sorry," Ororo said.

"Yeah," Scott agreed.

"Even though he started it."

"How did I start it?"

"You were there!"

The thought flashed through his mind, strong and bitter: soon you won't need to worry about that.

"I apologize for my continued existence."

"Anyway," Ororo continued, "what's so great about being like most people? If 'normal' was everyone at the orphanage I don't want to be normal. They have Dick and Jane and the hokey-pokey and other cr—stuff," she amended at the last moment, catching a warning look from Charles.

"Dick and Jane are rather boring," Hank offered.

Scott, who liked the primers, said nothing. He knew they weren't great literature, but he remembered his mom starting to read them to him. Later, he was able to figure out words for himself, without an adult to help him.

"What is hokey-pokey?" Ruth asked. "This is also a book?"

"It's a dance," Hank explained.

"It's a stupid dance," Ororo added.

"It helps little kids learn left and right. I found it… less than scintillating during my own academic career," Hank admitted, "but it seemed to entertain second graders."

"I was never a second grader," Ororo retorted.

"Fair enough," Hank ceded.

For someone with only a couple years of formal education, she was remarkably advanced. Her reading and writing left something to be desired, but mathematically, she was at the same level as Doug, who was eighteen and a high school senior. It made sense that some of the simpler activities had bored her.

As Hank, Ruth, and Ororo continued with a discussion of foolish childhood things, Charles said, softly, "Scott."

Scott attempted to look innocent.

Charles shook his head: he wasn't falling for it.

Scott sighed. He glanced at Ororo, who seemed enthusiastically engaged in shredding the 'Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes' song. It was her birthday, after all… so he handed over Cannery Row.

"You may have it back tomorrow."

Like that was any consolation!

Neither of them liked this. The very concept of denying someone reading materials seemed cruel to Charles, but he genuinely believed it was for the best. Other people were so important to Scott—everyone at the table, for example, as well as Alex, Doug, and Laurie. But interaction meant risking being hurt or disappointed and it was a risk Scott sometimes wouldn't take. The 'no books at the table' rule was meant to make him interact.

For the first time, he seemed genuinely angry about it. He sighed and picked at the garbanzo beans on his plate, which were a lot tastier than he cared to admit.

Then a thought snapped through Scott's mind, a memory—teach you to look at me like that, worthless little—and it had never been Charles. Perhaps he had raised his voice once or twice, but he had never threatened, never been violent. It didn't matter. The orphanage resurfaced and Scott flinched his attention back to his hands.

Ruth put a stop to everyone's sulking by adding birthday cake—or, in this case, birthday baklava, since Ororo determined it was even better than chocolate cake (the best of the cakes). Ruth and Ororo didn't bother trying to eat baklava neatly. Both knew that the honey-soaked pastry was impossible to eat without making a mess of one's hands and face.

"Is this what people traditionally do in Egypt?" Hank asked. He had a piece of baklava held carefully, almost like a scientific specimen, between two very pointed nails.

"Baklava, yes. For birthdays?" Ororo shrugged. "I don't remember a birthday before. I picked this one because I like spring. The way the air feels light… I wanted to do the…" She said the word in Arabic.

"Equinox," Ruth supplied.

"That. But I couldn't remember the name of March. I like April, though. I like this birthday."