Ellie ducks behind Jasper’s legs and poomphs at the exact moment every trash bin on the sidewalk behind Lenore falls over into the street like smelly dominos. A large raccoon tumbles out, hisses at them, and high-tails it down the block. 

“Holy shit!” Lenore’s high and Simon’s low surprise harmonize. They both stand, each holding one hand to their chests, the other grasping the other’s arm. “Oh my god, that scared the hell out of me. I guess you saw it coming towards us?” Simon asks, turning back to follow the ringed hooligan’s assumed path, but finds an exceedingly tall guy on the sidewalk. Orrr, she’d spotted him. 

Jasper stood staring off in the direction Roland had run, relieved but now at a loss for what to do. What is a normal thing to say here? The invisible girl, still holding his hand, gives it a squeeze that he has no idea how to interpret. 

Lenore looks at the tall guy in his faded cutoffs and enormous green canvas kicks and is stunned, once again, to realize Ellie has poomphed in front of a stranger. There are two possibilities. Either he hasn’t noticed she’s gone, or he is aware an not surprised by her speed and stealthiness. Neither ideal. Ellie, what have you done? What do I do? 

Giving the alley sheltering his best friend and stalker a final squint, knowing full well he was over there delighting in his pain, he takes a deep breath and, having settled on a greeting looks toward Ellie’s Lenore and her friend. And he promptly forgets words. All of them.

“That was really wild, huh?” Lenore slides her question out like it was a block in the tower stacking game Ellie likes and gingerly places it, waiting for the next player.

“Wild, yes, I’m glad no one got hurt.” Jasper manages to pull his block and place it with relative ease for one never having played before. The wind grabs a few soda cans from one of the dumped recycling bins and scrapes them along the pavement and off of the curb where they roll down the slight incline. He narrows his eyes and starts after them, grateful for the distraction and earnest in his new mission. Unlike Roland, he could not abide human’s refuse.

Prompted into action, Lenore and Simon start righting the bins and scooping the spilled contents of some improperly tied bags up with the marginally cleaner lids. With Jasper’s help after catching the rest of the escapees down the street, they make short work of the clean up. Lenore covertly wagging a finger at a egg carton moving on its own, jolts when Jasper plucks it out of the air and drops it back where it belonged. 

Oh god, oh god, he knows. I need to get Simon out of here, she thinks.

Simon watches Lenore’s expressions as she scrutinizes the tall stranger who isn’t looking at either of them. Is this what happens when the biggest introvert you know meets someone even more shy? Fascinated, he is filled with an almost desperate need to know what she wants to say to him. 

Jasper gets up first, and the other two lose their balance in their effort to watch him stand, an action that they both suppose would take longer when your destination is so high up. Simon takes a good look now. He is extraordinarily tall, making it hard to even know where to look; there was so much of him. Broad shoulders, and definitely a runner. Maybe a climber? He momentarily meets his gaze and immediately shifts to the braid falling forward across his shirt, tied with the long stem of a blue wildflower woven through it. Pretty.

 “My name’s Simon, and this is Lenore,” he says. “Thanks for your help, um…”

“Jasper,” he fills in. “Nice to meet you both.” As he nods, his braid dips lower across his chest and returns to its position. 

“Jasper.” Simon repeats softly, eyes not leaving the braid. I could have a braid. I could totally do that. I’m not an entire wall of a person though. No one probably says shit to him about the flower.

The wildling notices his attention and nervously reaches for the stem fastening his plait the way one of the nymphs taught him years ago. Is it strange? Simon’s hair is long and dark and loose. Lenore’s black hair is pulled up in high tail, two shiny black metal bits slipped into the side, he guessed holding it in place. Embarrassed and doubly so for not knowing exactly what about him was embarrassing, his cheeks begin to burn.

Lenore pauses her internal panic over what Ellie has done to watch Simon watching this Jasper boy who was so painfully shy–legitimately shy–unlike herself, who would be fine if she could get involved with others. He is so remarkably pretty. His reddish brown hair is shiny, and his freckled skin looks so healthy in the setting sun’s glow. He couldn’t go to their school–she’d remember someone so tall, and the other students wouldn’t have let him hide unbothered in obscurity. Where had he come from?

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jasper,” she says, stepping back closer to her place. “Thank you for helping us pick up that mess. And Simon, I appreciate your offer to help with, um, what we were talking about. But I’ve got it covered.”

“I really don’t mind helping you with the packing too.”

“Thank you but I’ll be ok on my own! I just remembered I need to make a call!” she hurried. Turning back from the doorway, she waves to them both before disappearing inside.

“That was a little weird, even for Lenore,” he shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Did you just move to Melitown?” Simon asks, returning to his braid-watching. It was now gripped tightly in Jasper’s large hand.

“N-no. I live out-outside of t-town,” he stammers, and twists his hair in his hand.

Simon’s eyes stay focused on the braid. He wants to grab it and, having thought the thought, gasps. “Ah, then we’ve been keeping you! Maybe I’ll see you around? Goodnight!” he blurts, backing away and launching himself across the street.

Jasper grimaces. He’s gone and weirded someone out again. He was too freaked out to even look both ways. What if I’d chased him right into a car?

Shoulders slumped, he makes his way back to his forest.

Inside Auntie Lou’s apartment, Lenore stands in the living room, arms wrapped around herself, trying to think. “Ellie, come out and explain what is going on, please.”

The disembodied voice of an unhappy six-year-old carries on a whiff of hot cocoa and peanut butter pelicans, which she would likely not be restocking anytime soon. “You first! Explain why we are packing.”