Nat looked up as the common room door opened half expecting Mr. Longstreet to appear and get on him about his attire.  Cutoffs.  A wave of heat washed over him.

“Oh!  Hello, Wren.”  He set the empty titanium tumbler in the little sink.  She was again in tights with the short shirt but this time all in black.  Her curly black hair was gathered by a matching black ribbon and tied at the nape of her neck.  It made her look even more slender but it was also very eye catching.

“Hullo, Nathaniel,” she said.  “Just wake up?”

He shuffled his feet.

“Nah, been surfing, they got hella waves here.”

Wren nodded and shifted the bag on her shoulder.

“What about you?” he said.  “Whatcha find to do around here?”

He pulled up the mini-fridge carefully and held up a bottle of water.  She crossed to him and took it.

“I am a dancer, Nathaniel.  Therefore, I dance.”

“I am a surfer, therefore I surf, I guess,” he replied.

“Seeing as how you just completed a period of surfing, I would suggest that knowing that you surf would be . . . preferred.

One corner of his mouth twitched but he said “What do ya dance?  Ballet?”

“I dance just about everything, but I prefer ballet.”

Nat smiled at a sudden thought.

"I’d prolly toss you through the ceiling if I did one of those lift things." He said.  “I am supposed to be in Ms. Angeles' class . . . they say it'll help me with my control.”

“Like everything, it just takes practice.  I tended to hit the ceiling myself while jumping when I first started.”

Nat looked surprised.

"I guess you're stronger then you look, like me."

“Occasionally, yes.” She agreed.

“Dancing for someone my size has gotta be like an elephant in a tutu,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.  “Josho says if I can surf and not fall, no reason I can't dance too.”  He grinned.  “Course, water scares the hell out of him."

Wren eyed Nat critically.  "You're built much like a dancer. Just taller.  That's certainly not a bad thing for male dancers.  They seem to keep getting shorter."

“But over seven feet?”

Wren shrugged slightly.  "Yes?"

“You're pretty tall for a girl . . . if you don't mind my saying.”

“My mother is a model.  It's to be expected.”  She dismissively.  “Just don’t ask me to play . . . basketball.”

A chimpanzee leaped from the door and grabbed the light fixture over their heads.  Nat looked up.

“Umm . . . Stitch?”

 “They have free range primates in the school,” Wren observed.

The chimp released his hold on the fixture and dropped to the floor, shifting into a boy of about 15.

“Yeah!  It’s me.” He said, bowing to Wren.

               “Primates that change into people.  This is new.” Wren said.

“A pleasure to meet you.” The boy said.  Wren raised an eyebrow and offered her hand.”

“Enchanté, I'm sure,” she said.  The boy took her hand and shook it.

“Whoa . . . “ said Nat.  “Your real shape?”

“Yeah, this is what I look like.” He said.  As a human, he was about 5’10”, just a bit shorter than Wren and maybe 160 pounds.  Though slender, his physique looked compact and well-muscled and his brown hair was a little wild and unkempt.  Nat never paid much attention to guys’ looks but he supposed this kid would do pretty well with the girls even without the little blue bundle of soft fur he could become.

“So, I call you Stitch?” Nat asked.

“Would you prefer cute and fluffy?” he said, gazing at Wren.

Wren missed the joke entirely and stared at the boy like one would stare at drying paint.

Stitch sighed.  “I guess you haven’t seen the movie.  I can understand, it IS a kid show but my mom liked it.

               Nat rubbed his short blonde hair, the salt from the ocean making it stiff.

               “He was Stitch yesterday,” he explained.  “Brit got a big kick out of it.”

“Yea, that was fun. Yes it is. What he said.” Stitch pointed at Nat.

               “And this Stitch of from a movie?” She did not sound impressed.

               Nat nodded. 

"Lilo and Stitch."  He said.  “Umm . . . Wren . . . where HAVE you been the last couple years?  Mars?”

“Don't pick on her it is a kid show!”  Stitch admonished Nat.

“British boarding school.  Much the same, only less red and with more rain.”

Nat struggled with a smirk  “I guess Disney doesn't export?”

She shrugged.  “My Headmistress didn't believe in things like non-educational television.”

“That takes care of everything on the tube,” Nat quipped with a grin.

“I was not one to argue with her, actually,” she said primly.

“From a British boarding school to an American boarding school.” Stitch observed.

Wren ALMOST smiled at the two young men.

“Thank you . . . Stitch, but it's really all right.  I think the only channel we received was the Discovery Channel." She said.

“You just have to be more imaginative on the definition of educational!”  Stitch said, grinning.

“Nah,” said Nat.  “She's right, TV's junk.  I’d rather be outside.”

“That I'll agree with. What do you want to do? We don't have to long before we have to hit the books again.”  Stitch said.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Nat grinned.  “You guys get your schedules?  Got some pretty odd stuff . . . Criminology . . . Psychology . . . Music . . . hope they have a titanium tuba . . . ”

“I have the basics, math, science, gym and stuff,” Stitch offered.

Wren checked an extremely thin, elegant watch strapped to an equally slender and elegant wrist.

“And I am for the dance hall." She said, adjusting her shoulder bag.

“Dance?  You have practice or a class?” Stitch asked.

“I do not have a class, just my own practice.  I am, unfortunately, ahead of most of the classes here, with the exception of Criminology, Cooking and other C words.”

Wren mouth twitched slightly in a half smile.

“Me all I want to do is be head of NASA,”  Stitch said.

“So I guess the Astronomy classes are right up your alley,” Nat said.

“Just the Head of NASA?”  Wren said flatly.  “Good for you for keeping your expectations reasonable.”

“Yea, that's my science class this year.” He said.  “I have to figure out what the orbits of all the planets should be then take what they really are and figure out what else is in the solar system.  What a pain for a final project.”

Kyle Longstreet chose that moment to enter and overheard Stitch’s last few words.

“Maybe we can get a field trip to one of the other planets.” He said.  “Hello Wren, Nat.”  Wren nodded to him then he gave Nat the once over and the boy cringed inwardly.  Cutoffs in the common room . . . again.

“That would be COOL!” Stitch said enthusiastically.

Kyle held out a hand.  “You must be our newest, Matt Doppler.”  The boy took the offered hand.  “I am Mr. Longstreet.”

“Yea, that's me. Hello Mr. Longstreet.”

“Archer has asked me to talk to the students about where they might like to go for field trips.” Kyle said.

Wren raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

“Any suggestions?”  Longstreet said.

“North shore?  Bondi?  Great Barrier Reef?” Nat reeled them off fast.

Kyle chuckled and pushed his glasses back up his nose.  "I think the Reef is a given, Dr. Chak goes there several times each year."

“The Playboy Mansion?”  Matt offered.

“You sound like Ian . . .” Nat accused.

“Ok, NASA or the Amazon.” Matt amended.

“Space Camp? Or go to Mars?” Kyle asked.

“Mars? You're kidding right?”  Matt said, incredulous.

“Why would I kid?”  Kyle said.  “You haven't met Mr. Moore yet.  He doesn't like to teach astronomy with the dampening effect of an atmosphere.”

“Wow, Mars,” Matt said dreamily.  “That would be so cool.”  Then he blinked.  “How many of the stars does he have us memorize?”

Kyle shrugged  "I don't know."

Wren seemed perfectly content to just observe.

“But he'll show them to you from a whole different perspective.”  He looked at the silent girl.  “What about you, Wren, where would you like to go?”

Matt looked at Wren and grinned.  "We could go to a Royal Ball!"

Nat felt like tossing him into the ocean, from there,

“Egypt,” the girl said after a moment’s consideration.

“Interested in Egyptology or Archaeology?” Longstreet asked.

“Egyptology.”

“Interesting,” he rubbed his chin in thought.  “I'll have to make a note and see if we can arrange classes.”

Wren commented absently.  "My father would not let me go."

“Are you planning to learn to read the Hieroglyphics?” Matt asked.

“Yes, learning to read them would be interesting."  She said.

Nat was more interested in her comment.

“Why wouldn't he let you go?”  He said.  “He let you come here."

“Bug bites?” Matt offered.

“He let me come here because the alternative was my dying.”  She said simply.

“DYING?”  Nat felt a sudden stab in his chest.

Wren looked at Kyle and raised an eyebrow.  Matt’s mouth dropped open.

“What do you mean, dying?”  The casual tone had left Nat’s voice and there was a sound of steel replacing it.

“I am not sure if I am allowed to speak of it.  My apologies.” She said.

Nat scowls.  "If you aren't sick, was someone gonna try and kill you?"

Wren gestured to Kyle.  "Ask him."

“Wren, like you, almost everyone here was pulled from a situation involving HARP.” Kyle said.  “Nat is an exception.”

At that moment Jessy entered the room, her hair wet and wearing oversized jeans and a t-shirt 3 times to big.

“It has generally been in my best interest not to create mass chaos when I can help it, sir.”  Wren said.

“Hello, Jessy,” Kyle said.

Jessy smiled at him and stood next to Nat.

“HARP is something we will be discussing at some length.” Mr. Longstreet said.  “Even I have things to learn about them.”

“Emphasis on the ‘will’, sir,” Wren said. “I do not believe that it is I who should be beginning the discussion.”

Nat muttered.  "I can't wait to get my hands on one those robotic . . ."

“Might be more of a handful that you expect, Nat,” Kyle offered.

Nat found Wren’s gaze on him and the look of disgust shocked him to the core.

Pain crossed Matt’s face and abruptly a two foot tall blue koala jumped up into Jessy’s arms.  She plopped down into Nat’s chair and it almost swallowed her.   She cuddled Stitch and yawned.

“Nat Strong, He'll brake those things.” The Stitch in Jessy lap quipped.  Standing on her lap, he hugged her neck.

“Got to love blue and fuzzy,” Jessy said, stroking Stitch between the ears.  “So adorable.”

Kyle pocketed the notepad he had been scribbling on and said “I'll see you all later.  Keep in mind ideas for field trips.”

“The MALL!”  Jessy called out.

“Figures . . . “  Nat muttered.

“Whatever,” Jessy rolled her eyes at Nat.

“Let’s go to the beach. The Mall. Gee, okay!”  Matt yelled in his growly Stitch voice.

“Not exactly a serious fieldtrip.” Nat commented.

Jessy let go of the blue fur ball.  “I missed half the meeting!”

"’Shopping 101’,"  Nat suggested.  “Wonder who teaches that?”

“Okay,” Jessy said, watching the door close behind Kyle.  “Three-quarters.”

Uncuddled, Stitch dropped to the floor and sat down, pouting.

“Linda Catling,” Jessy said suddenly.

Nat scowled  “Who?”

“Haven't you heard of the Great Scientist Simon Catling? Linda is his wife!”  Stitch offered.

“Oh, never mind,” Jessy said in disgust as she pulled herself out of the depths of Nat’s chair.  All the way to the door she was mumbling something none could understand.  On the way out she had to stop and tug her pants up to keep them from falling.

“I need food,” Nat growled, heading for the kitchen.  He stopped and held the door, looking back at Wren.  Hefting her bag, she proceeded him.  Just as he stepped out, Stitch shot out of the room and raced after Jessy.

“Let’s go to the MALL!!”  He called.

               Nat followed Wren as far as the dance studio, her movements a graceful as a cat.  When she slipped into the next room, he sighed and felt his heart rate slow.  By the time he reached the kitchen, his stomach was growling and he was only interested in food.  He never heard the roar of the motorcycle as Jessy and Matt raced off.

               One of the things having a mother that worked all the time had done for Nat was give him at least survival level skills in the kitchen and within moments he had the biggest frying pan he could find on the stove and heating.  From the refrigerator, he remove a butcher paper wrapped bundle labeled ‘hamburger’ and broke the tape.  He started to just dig into the meat but then he remembered Luthien and Nicky and took the time to thoroughly wash and dry his hands before forming a pair of pound-sized patties.

               Another change in his life was this whole kitchen.  Not the kitchen itself but the food in it.  For a lot of years he had lived on mac and cheese with hotdogs and now . . . he had anything he could imagine.  He dropped the two patties into the pan and they sizzled.  Fresh hamburger, not almost “expired’.  He took out two freshly baked rolls from Marie’s morning baking and sliced them.  The bread was so soft . . . he stopped and for a moment struggled not to cry.  Archer had been right.  His mother had tried so hard to provide for him.  When he was older, she’d never have to work her fingers to the bone for him.  He’d take care of her.

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he placed the split buns on the counter.  Pausing to check the ‘burgers, he dug mayo, mustard, tomato, onion and some dill pickles out of the refrigerator.  This place was . . . more than he ever expected in life, even with the whole Jessy thing  . . . and now Wren.

He spread the mayo on both halves of the roll and considered the subject of Wren.  Okay, so she was tall but she was also . . . he hesitated, trying to define what else she was.  He’d seen too much in her eyes to think her cold or unfeeling.  She was . . . reluctant.  That was it.  He could feel an emptiness in her and he wanted to fill for her.

He nearly dropped the knife.  Fill emptiness for her?  For Wren?  Okay, that was new.  He thought about Brittany and a different feeling surged in him.  He knew he loved the little girl already, had from the first moment he’d met her but he loved her like a sister and wanted to protect her.  Was that what he was beginning to feel for Wren?  Her words about dying had shocked him and he’d wanted to defend her.  Just like he was ready to defend Brit.

He found four slices of cheese and dropped them atop the burgers right after he turned them.  Did he feel defensive about Jessy?  For a moment he thought about it.  Yeah . . . he did.  He wanted to be her friend but she didn’t seem to want to let him, she HAD to have more.