"So we're only…ten pound twenty away from two round trip train tickets to London," Dean proclaimed with a grin as he jangled his newly acquired cash in his fist. I narrowed my eyes and gave him a skeptical look. He'd been going on and on about a day in London for about a week now and he'd had us pick pocketing unsuspecting tourists for days around the train station. I hadn't asked yet but he hadn't just dropped the idea like I'd expected, so now I was curious.

"What do you want to do in London anyway? We don't know nothin' about it. Have you ever even left Oxford before?"

Dean pouted and protested, "I have done!"

"School trips don't count. We'll be on our own if we go. And I know we're self sufficient or whatever, but we are only twelve. London's a big expensive city."

Dean avoided my eyes and my suspicion grew. I elbowed him hard. "Dean! What are you hiding?"

"S'not any big deal!" He said defensively. I scowled and tapped my foot and he stuck out his bottom lip. "You're gonna make fun of me."

"Possibly. Probably. Stop being such a baby and spit it out already. I'll find out if we go you know. Better to get it out now."

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his head before haltingly starting, "You know that time we were separated?"

"Of course. And what a year that was," I teased. Dean stuck out his tongue and I laughed.

"Anyway, I ended up in this one houses for quite a while. And the fosters were fine but the kids were pretty rough. Which is fine for vets like us. But a new kid came about a month in. Little kid, scrawny and specky, the type of kid the bully types love to pick on. And I felt bad for the poor kid. His parents had just died and he didn't have any relatives. But more than feeling bad for him I really wanted an excuse to punch someone. So one day when some of the other kids were playing keep away with one of his belongings I decided to take his side." Dean laughed when I rolled my eyes and he took the break from his story to pull out a cigarette. He lit it before he continued, "It was a proper fight once the other kids realized I wasn't holding back. I got the piss beaten out of me bit I just kept laughing so they finally gave up and after that they stopped buggin' the kid so much. Anyway, this kid decided I was his fuckin' hero or something. He got scooped up pretty quick, but the little shit told his adopted parents about me and every holiday they send me a card and the last card had their phone number so-"

I started to laugh in disbelief. "The fuck? Are you serious? This isn't some joke? How come I've never seen one of these cards?"

"Threw 'em out. It's fucking weird man."

"So, what, they live in London?"

"Yeah, they moved there recently and gave me their number if I ever visit. I figure I should see if they'll actually come collect us, if not we'll just get to ride a train. Maybe explore. I bet the tourists in London carry way more cash on them and are even less prepared for pickpockets."

I grinned mischievously at Dean. "So what you're saying is that you have a secret fan club?"

"Fuck off!"

"No way mate. This I've gotta see."

Now that I knew what the goal actually was, I was almost more enthusiastic to get to London then Dean was. Dean was hoping he could take advantage of those people: I just wanted to see these crazy adults who idolized Dean of all people. I didn't give the kid a second thought.

We had to be careful to only take small amounts from each person so we didn't attract too much suspicion, plus we would continually put a few coins into our emergency fund, so it took another few days to get together the funds. We planned a Saturday to go, sorted out the foster parents (not actually telling them that we were going to London of course, just saying we'd be unreachable for the day, not that we usually were), and gathered extra money at my insistence so we'd have coin for phone calls and buses.

We got up early and were out the door before either of our families woke. I discovered I love and hate trains at the same time. When a cabin is mostly empty it's brilliant. I love the seats and the speed of it and looking outside. When it gets loaded I find that I quickly feel claustrophobic. Dean sat on the aisle so I wouldn't have a bunch of people brushing past me. I held my manikin up to the window so that he could get a good look too.

Dean didn't call the family before we arrived in London. He avoided rejection for as long as he could and tried to make circumstances harder for people to say no. We found a phone box and Dean called the number. I listened to Dean's end of the conversation, barely stifling giggles as he put on his best charming voice while simultaneously making faces at me. It surprised both of us when the woman at the end of the line enthusiastically agree to come meet us with her husband and Paul. I realized with a start that Dean had never mentioned the boy's name. Paul.

And suddenly I was hit with a wave of jealously.

It was irrational and stupid. After all, Dean didn't seem to even like the boy much and I knew it was the Dean and Franky show 24/7 to him just as it was to me. But I'd never made another friend in the system. I hadn't let myself, hadn't wanted to, or the kids had been complete wankers. Dean wasn't supposed to either. It was me and him. Dean couldn't have more friends.

Could he?

We waited inside the station for a little over an hour and kept each other entertained by creating stories for all the passers by. I didn't know what Paul looked like so I had no idea what to expect. But Paul made it pretty easy to pick him out.

There was a sudden shout of "Dean!" from a few meters away and both of us looked up to see a blonde ball of pure energy shooting towards us. Paul slammed into Dean hard enough that they fell off the bench. Jealousy almost made me forget to put on my show face, but I had such practice that when two fresh-faced and eager looking adults speed walked up to is it fell naturally into place. I said hello politely and both adults nodded back. When their eyes landed on Dean they lit up and my stomach dropped. No adult looked at me like that. Like they were grateful for my very existence.

When Dean got to his feet and saw the way he was being looked at I could see the confusion and mistrust behind his eyes clear as day but he hid it from them with his own show face. Paul beamed at Dean and firmly held his hand. The ludicrous thought "That's my hand to hold," crossed my mind. I tried to push it away. I got a good look at him for the first time. Dean's description was spot on. Scrawny with a pair of large glasses, sandy blonde hair, blue bulbous eyes and a healthy sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He looked to be about two years younger than us.

"Dean, it's a pleasure to meet you finally," the woman said in a chipper voice. "You can call me Auntie Liz, and this is Uncle John." The look of disbelief on Dean's face almost quelled my own anxiety.

"And who might this lovely lady be?" 'Uncle' John said as he leaned toward me and put his hands on his knees. He gave me a wink and I felt like I was about to vomit.

"Don't be silly Uncle John!" Paul crowed loudly. "That's Franky, Dean's sister! It's brill to finally meet you!" And with that he launched himself at me too, wrapping his arms tight around my chest and whopping his head in gracefully against my breastplate. The sudden grab sent me over the edge. I hid it for as long as I could, enough time for Dean to pry him off me and for me to excuse myself to the toilet.

I stayed a few minutes in the corridor leading to the toilet with my back firmly pressed against the wall. I pulled myself together and steadied my breathing before immersing with my plastic mask in place. The Williamsons (they finally mentioned their surname), didn't seem to notice anything amiss. But Dean immediately disentangled himself from Paul's hold and came to stand by me possessively.

The jealousy all but disappeared.

As the Williamsons discussed where they were going to take us and busily started to herd us toward the Underground, I leaned against Dean's side and whispered, "Paul knew my name. Been talking to other people about me have you?"

"You're about the only thing I do talk about."

Warmth spread through me and I smiled. To ease the sting completely I said, "So you haven't been cheating on me then?"

Dean laughed and pulled me against him. "You jealous Lion?" I looked up at him. He had seen. His eyes were soft and without a word he was saying, 'Don't be daft. You're my only family. I love you best.'

Good.

They weren't terrible. Their attention and cheerful attitudes were a bit nauseating. And it always set our suspicion on red alert when adults were like that. But we relaxed as much as we could pretty quickly. They were unnerving, but they were nice people.

And they were talkative. As soon as we boarded the Underground Liz and John decided the best possible line of conversation would be to tell us everything that had happened in Paul's life since his adoption. Paul protested with a chuckle that Dean probably knew it all (I had to stop myself from exchanging a look with Dean because there was no doubt in my mind that Dean didn't know anything at all). When John said that I probably know much of it Paul confidently replied, "I bet she knows most of it cuz Dean'll have told her." I chanced a glance Dean's way and saw he could barely hide the dumbfounded look on his face, as if he was looking at an alien. I almost felt bad for Paul then.

The Williamsons proceeded to fill me in. They were lifelong friends of Paul's real parents and had been appointed Paul's legal guardians in their will because Paul had no other living relatives. A simple in and out of the foster system turned into a two month battle when someone misfiled something and sent Paul's case into limbo. Paul finally went home with them, but not before "those mean kids" made him a target and Dean stepped in on his behalf. In their reselling of the tale, Dean was there the second one of the bullies lifted a finger against Paul and Dean acted as Paul's personal bodyguard for forty days and forty nights, on the forty first day the white dove with the olive branch came to deliver Paul personally to John and Liz.

At least that's how they made it sound.

By the end Liz started to coo at me because I had teared up with what she must have thought was joy for them but what was really just tears from holding in laughter. Dean looked about ready to throttle me.

The rest of the story wasn't that interesting. All they did was talk about Paul's straight A's and junior football team and a bunch of other boring everyday junk that neither Dean nor I had any experience with. We both just smiled and nodded indulgently.

Then Lis said, "So, brother and sister? Did you get separated and that's why Paul didn't meet Franky until today?"

"Well-" Dean began and a huge grin spread across my face at his tone of voice. Cue story time. Because the truth that I was ditched one day after preschool and that social services was called after the fifth time a three-year-old Dean 'fell down the stairs' and we met as two broken kids in the system was far too depressing.

"We were separated because the two of us are heirs to an incredible fortune as soon as we turn eighteen, and we're most recognizable together-"

"That's why my hair's short, you'd definitely know me if it was longer and I was wearing proper clothing," I added with a straight face.

"Exactly. And they dye my hair every few weeks."

"Plus your nose job-"

"Plus your chin job!"

"-retina dye-"

"-shortening your femurs-"

"-making your neck longer-"

"-getting rid of your hump-"

"-sex change!"

We almost couldn't control ourselves and the other passengers were starting to stare. The Williamsons had matching plastered on grins, completely unsure what was happening, except Paul who was hanging on our every word.

Dean cleared his throat. "Anyway, this way if one of us is kidnapped the entire fortune doesn't get stolen-"

"Not that I wouldn't pay the whole fortune to rescue you!" I said dramatically.

"And I'd to the same beautiful sister!" Dean intoned, grasping my hands in his and willing tears into his eyes.

"We were together for a while, but someone made an attempt on our lives," I said to the Williamsons' solemnly. "They wanted our fortune to get in its entirety to the Crown."

"But I fended them off with a frying pan!"

"And I lit the man's coattails on fire."

Dean mouthed the word 'coattails' at me and I hit my touching forefinger and thumb against my others, mimicking striking a flint. Dean's eyes danced merrily as he picked up the story, "He was dressed like a butler-"

"He was our former butler!"

"Can you believe that? Loyalty these days!"

The Williamsons were still startled by our fanatical tale weaving but they were being more patient than expected. Paul looked as if he was in love.

"So we had to be split up," I said with a forlorn sigh. "But you'd recognize our mum."

"Not our dad though-"

"Maybe our cousin-"

"Oh no, definitely our cousin. He has that show."

"The one with all those celebrities or the one we're not allowed to watch yet?"

"Celebs for Liz. Other one for John maybe. Or both of them, who are we to judge-"

"OK! That's a very colorful past you two have," John interrupted quickly. Dean and I smiled innocently.

Wisely they didn't ask us any more questions, which as the whole point of story time. Don't ask questions, we won't lie.

They took us to Hamley's. If you don't know what that is, it's the biggest toy store in all of London. It's huge. And completely unrelated to either my or Dean's interest. But it's the thought that counts. They didn't ask where we wanted to go and I guess the fact that they thought of us as normal kids was nice of them. And Hamley's has some art supplies, kind of, but mostly just little kid stuff so none of it struck my fancy.

What did catch our attention was the candy store on the first floor. There was both prepackaged sweets and a Pik-N-Mix style area. With permission from Liz and John we ran to grab bags that we could fill from the bins.

As removed as we tried to be from the activities of other kids, who doesn't love candy?

The Williamsons let us pile the candy as high as we could while still bing able to get a tie around the top of the bag. I could see uncertainty on Liz's face as John paid for the candy and elbowed Dean to say in a low voice, "She's second guessing the sugar rush."

"But is unable to call any parents to see if it's alright," Dean whispered back. I laughed. Being parentless had its advantages. Liz could have asked for our fosters contact info obviously, but loads of people think it's an awkward subject to bring up. 'What's the number to contact those adults you're living with temporarily?' There wasn't exactly a social etiquette established. And in this instance it worked entirely in our favor.

They ended up buying us toys they thought we'd like anyway. Paul took great pride in having picked them out. Dean got some sort of robot. I got a doll. They would be destroyed by the younger kids we lived with in seconds. But Dean and I politely accepted and expressed gratitude.

They took us to tourist-y hot spots after that. We did the obligatory palace visit and heckled the Queen's guard. Saw Big Ben and almost rode the London Eye (Paul was scared of heights and tried to put on a brave face but began to cry halfway through the line). We packed a lot in. Then they delivered us safely back to Paddington. There were tearful goodbyes on their side and promises made we didn't trust for a second. Paul almost refused to let go of Dean and held onto him for minutes.

On the train ride home Dean said, "Don't think I ever need to do that again?"

I sucked on a lolly and nodded. It took a lot of energy to pretend to be interested all day long.