The plane landed on a lonely tarmac, scraped clean of the piles of snow that surrounded it. After the crew wheeled a boarding ramp to the doors, we walked down the stairs and onto the runway. I scanned our surroundings and couldn't find one air tower or any other signs of an airport. All around us was nothing but snow - not even trees broke up the endless white expanse of it. It was colder than a trip to a meat locker, and I shivered in my insubstantial football jersey and threadbare jeans as I wondered if we were in Antarctica.

"How in the heck did you guys even land here?"

Erick threw a warm cloak around my shoulders before he answered. "The quick answer is magic; the longer answer would hurt your head." 

Klick and Klack flew out of the plane and landed on my shoulders. I patted each of them as I gripped the cloak with a thankful nod. My gratitude quickly faded after he gave me that snarky answer.  "Oh sure, intelligence-shame the boy... err... girl that woke up today with her world on its ass."

"Well, since you want to know..." Erick began a long dissertation on the intricacies of why there was only one tarmac and no tower or airport. It started with a long-winded paragraph on the science and nature of portals and ended with the various physiologies and abilities of air faes. We'd gotten into the waiting limo when he began, and we'd been driving about a half hour when he came up for breath.

He was right. My head did hurt after his long dissertation more than it already had. My eyes had glazed halfway through. He had the gift of bore. His mother must be proud.

I stared at the back of the graying head of the limo driver as Erick droned on about the mathematics of illusion. The driver was a silent guy with hooded eyes and a beak-like nose. The moment we came up to the limo, all he did was nod and open the door. I would have loved to have had him introduce himself, anything to interrupt Erick. The limo was a Mercedes, and the seats were comfy. This was not helping me stay awake, but it cemented the fact in my mind that my uncle was rich. After Erick finished his explanation, he continued to face me in silence. That face of his, so familiar and so hated, had haunted me for four years. I hated the little starbursts in his eyes; I hated his shining hair that reminded me so much of the snow around us, and I especially hated that mouth that still looked kissable.

Realizing that I was staring, I sought something else to think about other than Erick's lips. "My friends - " 

"They are coming with Keenan and Enan in another car."

I remembered that was the real names for Tweedle Dee and Dum. Their parents had rhymed their names. How... twinsy. I wondered which one was which but wasn't interested enough to ask.

"Are those two friends of yours, or did you rent them from 1-800-Lynchmen?"

He hissed mockingly. "So unkind. They are loyal to the family. They protect your cousin, normally, but did me a favor today."

"A cousin too? Will I be meeting that person?"

"You should be. She will be coming with her mother to collect the twins."

"Oh." I wish I could have come up with something more clever to respond with, but I was too shellshocked.  I turned away from Erick and pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window. The scenery that passed us by was breathtaking.  The snow had frosted the rocks like hot cinnamon rolls. The naked trees had their arms spread out, adorned with icicles like jewels, and stoles of more snowdrifts draped upon them like ermine. 

Luis would have loved to have romped in that snow. Dominic would hate it. He hated the cold as much as he hated reality tv. Thinking of Dom and Luis got me thinking of the strange affectionate turns in my relationships with them today and how I'd repaid it by getting them into this fix.

"Won't you speak to me?" Erick disturbed my enjoyment of the scenery and earned a snarl from me.

"Why? I've said all I want to say to you." I spat as I continued to feel guilty about my friends. Why couldn't I have sat with the twins?

"I want to hear what happened to you these past four years. I thought of you every day."

I scoffed at him. Every day, did he? Yet he never came until now. "Oh, what? You want to feel better about yourself by knowing that I was okay?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then what?" I flung my arms up and hit one of my wrists against the roof of the car. Ouch. I rubbed it as I glared at him.  What was he expecting anyway - for me to sit right beside him and start making friendship bracelets together? I hated him!

 "What happened to you? You're the same in some ways, but you've grown harder," he asked, despite my declaration.

My voice raised as I finally relented. "You betrayed me; my mother turned me into a boy and abandoned me; I almost died on the streets, and up until today, I was dealing with it as best as I could. I don't know. Pick a card, any card. They're all terrible. "

He looked pensive, and I turned away to stare at the window, but I was no longer enjoying the scenery. After several minutes of silence, I continued in a quiet voice.

"What happened to me is a long story."

"We have several hours before we get to your uncle's house."

I turned to stare at him. "Why do you even want to know? What good will it do you to know that one simple act from you caused so much damage to me?"

"Think of it as exquisite torture. I assure you, I have been. Tortured, that is."

I frowned and twisted the hem of my favorite 49ers jersey. If I was honest to myself, I'd wanted to tell this man what he'd put me through for years, if only to have the satisfaction of seeing the regret and shame in those pretty, aquamarine eyes of his.

"I thought the worst day of my life was the day you betrayed me. I learned that I should never say that. There can always be worse days." 

I told him all about my time on the streets - all the dangers.

"I wasn't on the streets for long, just a few weeks, but it was enough to learn that lesson.  My friend Luis and I spent a lot of time just fighting to survive. We also tried to help anyone else that was being harassed, if we could. Adrian was one such kid. He found us while Luis and I were eating in an alley. He was thirteen, and I had just turned fourteen, as you remember. Thanks for that great birthday present, by the way."

Erick said nothing in reply. I eyed him for a moment, then continued.

"Adrian was little. He was smaller than I by at least four inches and had been on the streets for a week. He ran from his grandmother's gravesite on the day of her funeral. His other relatives didn't want him, but they all wanted his grandma's house and things. He was the trash that they left behind.

"When he first saw me, he punched me in the face." I shook my head and laughed. My expression grew tender.

"Why do you look like that was a treasured moment?"

"Well, when I didn't punch him back, he started crying. Then he patted me and apologized for hitting me. Someone covered that kid in bruises which I hadn't noticed because his skin was so dark. It was understandable why he threw the punch. If you come out swinging, the other guy might be too intimidated to mess with you. Too bad his heart was too tender.

"I gave him some half-melted chocolates I had stuffed in my pocket and promised him I was going to be his friend. I told him I would protect him. It was great, feeling needed. Everyone else treats me like I can't walk across the street without holding someone's hand."

I stewed over that for a few minutes. Luis was the worst offender. He was always saying, 'You are my prey, so no one else can kill you.' Then he'd freak out if I even got a hangnail. I pitied all of them when Luis got free of this. He credited my continued survival all to himself, so he'd try twice as hard to prove that when he woke up.

When I'd gotten too quiet, Erick prompted, "So what happened after that?"

"The two most important days from my time on the streets were the first day and the last day. All the others were just a blur of trying to survive as a small, pretty boy. Adrian had been through a week of hell, and I was determined not to let him be another grape to squeeze."

"What about the last day?"

I allowed myself to think of that day as I told him. I remembered the face of the man who tried to swallow me whole and spit me out into ruin. His poisoned knife injured me and almost killed me, but it was what he'd done to me before that left an indelible mark. It was the most physical and emotional pain I'd ever known. It was like I'd swallowed a hill of fire ants, then covered myself in gasoline and set my body ablaze.

"On my last day on the streets, I was stabbed in the back by someone I thought was a friend." My expression hardened as I stared him down.

"Who stuck you with a knife?" Erick asked, his eyes misting with tears. He moved to take my hand, but I yanked it away.

"His name was Joseph."