AN: So this kind of just accumulated over several days of writing during the moments when words just weren't coming for other things. I figured even with Sophie as a trailblazer, Alex would still cause a bit of a stir in Eaden after being adopted by the Newells. Hope you enjoy.

Alex was shaking when Chell approached the fourth-grade classroom. As it happened, it also functioned as the first, second, and third grade classroom as well, so Ms. Harris, one of Eaden's two teachers, didn't think there would be much issue settling Alex into the appropriate level of schooling.

From what Chell could gather, she was a fairly intelligent child, and she had a decent memory. She would be fine on that front.

It was the other children she had to worry about. Alex suddenly hugged her around the waist, squeezing tight with a frightened grasp. Chell tried to release her fingers, but the younger girl only squeezed tighter, burying her head into Chell's t-shirt with a whimper.

"Chell?" The classroom door opened, and Ms. Harris stood erect at the entrance like a queen on a parapet, looking down upon her subjects. She was not the friendliest woman, but she gave a mild sort of smile and beckoned for Alex to come in.

Chell nudged Alex. She turned a tear-stained face up to stare in Chell's direction.

"You won't leave me here, will you? You'll come back right?" She begged.

Chell sighed, realizing what this was about, and kneeled a little to reach Alex's height. She took the younger girl by the shoulders and spoke softly.

"Yes. I'll come back."

Alex felt herself prodded and pushed into the room by cold, unfamiliar hands. A crowd of thoughts, curious and coldly unfamiliar greeted her. Wincing, she threw up her guard to block the thoughts, but not before several slipped in—

Who's that?

What's wrong with her eyes?

What's wrong with her hair? Why's it so white?

Alex swallowed.

"Class, this is Alexandria Newell—

"—and she's been adopted by the Newells, so she'll be joining us this year."

Thomas looked up and stared. Alexandria leaned over quietly and whispered something to Ms. Harris.

"Right, she'd also like to be called Alex, so let's make her welcome, yes?"

Murmurs of assent, Thomas's among them. He watched silently as Alex walked quietly to a seat. One hand lightly tapped the edges of desks, feeling her way, as she tried to find her seat.

Thomas opened his mouth. There was an empty seat not far from him—right next to him, to be exact—but he thought better of it and closed his mouth. Alex bumped a desk on her journey and flinched. The occupant said nothing beyond a simple watch where you're going, before realizing and going very, very quiet.

She sat next to him, slumping in her seat. She looked…unusual, to say the least. Unlike anything he'd seen in Eaden before. Her hair was bleach white—old-person-white—like the old lady Miss Elizabeth at the other end of town. Her eyes, also like Miss Elizabeth, were pale, wandering through the room aimlessly.

"Now, this is a new year, with new faces and new work to do. I hope you'll do your best. I'm going to pass around the textbooks. Some of you will have to share, and I don't want to hear any bickering. Please share with your desk mate, and follow along as I read chapter one aloud."

Thomas watched Alex, carefully noting what she did. She didn't twitch at the sound of the teacher's voice, and her hands stayed listless in her lap. Ms. Harris placed a book gently on their shared desk—really just a spare table with a long bench for them to sit on—and murmured something quietly to Alex before moving on.

Thomas reached for the textbook, and Alex shifted a little, turning her head towards the soft noise. She blinked once, very slowly, and turned away again.

"Can you read?" The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Alex turned back towards him, her expression blank. "Yes. Not a book like that, though." She didn't elaborate further, and he wasn't sure what to say to something like that.

"Should I turn the pages, then?"

Alex nodded, without a single additional word during the rest of class.

Recess came soon, but not soon enough. Thomas quickly raced out the minute the bell rang, perhaps a little before. Finding his favorite tree—the tallest one in the patch of beaten-down grass that served as the recess playground—and climbed it with ease. His practiced hands found the branches almost without looking, and he clambered to the top in a matter of minutes.

From his high perch, he could see the whole schoolyard, sprawled out before him in dusty brown scattered with splotches of green. A flash of white caught his eye, and he spotted Alex again. She walked out slowly, lagging behind the mass of younger children, and she sat quietly on the worn bench near the door of the barn that was the school.

An itch, sudden and unexpected, snagged his attention for the slightest moment, and he turned to see a ladybug crawling on his arm. Slowly, carefully, he lifted the bug from his arm and set it on a nearby branch. When he looked back again, Alex was suddenly surrounded by a crowd of kids.

"Where did you come from?"

"Did you come from New Detroit?"

"My mom says only little old ladies have white hair—are you a hundred years old or something?"

"Why are your eyes so…funny?"

Alex shuffled her feet, clearly uneasy. Thomas stayed riveted to the spot, watching the scene unfold. It only took a second before Daniel Abernathy began waving a hand in front of her face to see if her funny-looking eyes really were blind or not. He got a little too close, and—

SMACK.

Alex cried out and put her hands over her head to protect her already injured face. This wasn't so strange. He'd gotten smacked several times on the playground—never really a fight, just roughhousing—and it had hurt, but after a minute the pain would fade and he could go on playing.

What was strange was the fact that when Alex put her hands over her face to protect it, all the kids around her clutched their faces, as if they had been smacked themselves. Like the time he had switched on a light in the cellar, the kids scattered like cockroaches. All except Daniel, who kept waving his hand even as he held his face, until his friend pulled him away.

Alex sat alone again. Soon enough, the school bell—an old cow bell somebody had found lying around—rang out with a clattering sort of sound and the kids ran back in. Alex waited quietly, unnoticed, only going in when everyone else had already gone.

Thomas swung down from the tree in shower of leaves and followed.

"How was school?" Thomas walked, kicking a small stone along as he went. He looked up at his father, at the red hair he had inherited and the green eyes he hadn't, and he nodded with a smile.

"That's good. I heard there was a new kid—the Newells' other daughter?"

Another nod. The stone had skipped a little too far and landed in a ditch. He began kicking another stone. This one was smooth and round. He stopped to pick it up and placed it in his pocket.

"Grandma Emilie is coming for dinner tonight. So don't get too muddy, okay?"

"Okay."

Thomas liked Grandma Emilie. She was good friends with Mrs. Newell, and she knew almost everything about everybody in town. And she talked. A lot. But Thomas didn't mind. It meant that he didn't have to talk nearly as much.

But his interest perked up a little when Grandma Emilie mentioned Alex.

"Oh yes, precious little thing. Ellie and Sophie have quite taken to her—such sweet girls. Course, if I didn't know better, I'd say she came from the northeast."

"Not from New Detroit? I've heard they're still managing all the children displaced by the war." Thomas's father commented mildly, twirling spaghetti around his fork.

"The good Lord knows that's true enough. But no, I don't think so. There's something of an air around her. Still, where else could she have come from?"

"Well, she's here now, and the Newells will be good for her. Seems like such a skittish little thing." Thomas's mother said with a sort of finality, as if she were tired of the subject.

"Well yes, of course. No one's disputing that, dearie. But still, one can't help but notice."

"Mm—on the subject of New Detroit, have you heard from my brother? Apparently he's opened a second shop."

"Really? Well, I knew he was a businessman from birth, that one. Did I ever tell you the story—"

And on it went. Thomas finished his spaghetti and asked to be excused. He wanted to catch a few more fireflies for his jar before it got cold again. His mother nodded, and he skipped out into the late summer night.

"Why do you go by Alex?" He chanced the question when Alex sat down at their shared desk, a few weeks later.

Alex looked over at him, a little surprised. Thomas hadn't said much to her since the day on the playground on that first day, and she hadn't said much either. But she answered anyway.

"I don't like 'Alexandria'."

"Why—" he hesitated, "—why not?"

Alex turned to him. Something flashed across her features, something too fast to catch.

"Mean people like to call me that. Nice people like to call me Alex. My—my friends call me Alex too."

"Do you want to be friends?" Thomas asked.

"Yes, please." And for the first time, Alex smiled. That smile glowed, lighting up the entire room.

Thomas smiled back.

"Thomas, why do you talk to her?" Daniel asked one day, as they sat in a lumpy group out in the yard, eating the lunches their mothers and fathers had packed for them. Alex sat, but not entirely by herself. Being Mrs. Newell's daughter, she had the advantage of some of the best-tasting lunch items, which were a high-value trading commodity in the yard. Kayla and Tammy were sitting by her, trying to weasel their way into a slice of raisin bread, but considering they only had a sad daub of hummus and some stale crackers (it was clean-out-the-cabinet day at their house), it seemed unlikely they would get it.

After a minute, they shifted and went to sit over the by the gaggle of girls at the other end of the yard. Alex didn't seem to mind; if anything, she seemed relieved not to be so closely observed as she nibbled absentmindedly at her raisin bread. Maybe in a minute Thomas would go offer her his celery sticks. He hated celery, but Alex seemed to like everything and anything—even brussel sprouts. He couldn't fathom why, but if it meant getting rid of his unwanted celery sticks, he might try it.

"Thomas?"

Thomas looked up at Daniel and shook himself back into focus. "Right, sorry. I dunno, she sits at the same desk as me. I kinda haf'to."

The older kids came onto the playground, coldly ignorant of the small fry as they sat to lounge in the sacred spot under the tree. No little kid under ten sat there—not unless they had an older sibling to invite them, and even then, that was doubtful.

But Alex had an older sister, Sophie, who was almost done with school. Thomas envied her. He would rather climb trees and catch worms and fish in the pond than sit listening to Ms. Harris's voice for hours and hours. Sophie called to her younger sister, and Alex's face lit up at the sound of her voice. She quickly ran over.

"My mom says they're both kinda weird."

Thomas turned his attention back to Daniel, who was squishing his bread into a compact, sweaty ball. Examining his work, he quickly shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Thomas giggled, making Daniel giggle, which nearly made him choke. He managed to get control of himself and swallowed.

"What kinda weird?" Thomas asked.

"I dunno. Did you ever hear about when Sophie fought Sally Vance a long, long time ago?"

"No. What happened?"

Daniel leaned in conspiratorially. "My cousin says he was there when it all went down, and he swore he saw Sophie's eyes go blue."

"Blue?"

"Yeah," Daniel waved his hands, knocking a pretzel to the ground, "like a robot."

"A robot?"

"I bet she's secretly a robot."

"Huh."

Suddenly there was a disturbance on the other side of the playground. Both Sophie and Alex were standing up, and Alex had the most murderous look of anger on her face.

"What did you call Mr. Wheatley?" She asked, so quiet Thomas almost couldn't hear from his and Daniel's spot. But there was no mistaking her anger. For a second, he could have sworn her eyes flashed blue.

"Don't ever call him that. Ever." Sophie said fiercely, and she took Alex's arm and walked away. The younger girl was reluctant to go, but suddenly her face turned complacent and walked away with Sophie peacefully.

Minutes later, the biggest beetle Thomas had ever seen fell from the tree right into Sally Vance's sandwich. She screamed, though he couldn't imagine why; beetles were cool. She and her friends scattered from the spot and sat in the hot sun for the rest of the lunch period.

It was that exact moment that Thomas decided he rather liked the idea of being friends with Alex.

"Thomas what are you doing?" His mother sounded horrified as he clung to a branch. He turned his head to look at her, confused by her expression. This particular tree wasn't any higher than he had ever climbed, but then again, he was doing something he'd never really done before.

He was out to catch a bird.

"Thomas! Don't go near that nest. Leave the little birds alone."

"Oh I'm not gonna bother the little birds." He knew well enough that baby birds needed their momma bird. He was going for another bird, several branches to the left of the nest.

Shoving a fist into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of seed, and whistled to the bird above him. The birds had become familiar with him and his whistles. He used to be really bad at whistling, but he'd practiced and practiced until the birds would stop and tilt their heads at him. After a few more months of practice, they eventually associated the whistles with food and would come quickly.

This bird was no exception, and it chirped merrily and came to Thomas. He gently stroked the bird's feathers as it eagerly pecked at the seed in his hands. He waited until the bird had finished, then carefully put his hands around the bird so it couldn't fly off. Slowly, carefully, he climbed down with one hand—no easy feat.

He hit the ground, carefully holding the bird close. It chirped a little, a bit annoyed with him, but he took out some more feed and the small bird forgot its annoyance and began eating again.

He had a friend to see.

Chell answered the door when the knock came. She wasn't sure who would be knocking on a lazy Sunday afternoon, but she got up and opened the door to find Thomas Snider standing at the door with a bird in his hands of all things.

"Is Alex here?"

Chell stood for a second, taken aback. From what she'd gathered, Alex's first few weeks of school had gone poorly, since many of the children had been a bit put off by her curious appearance and shy demeanor. Not to mention, she had unfortunately taken up Sophie's ongoing feud with Sally Vance, and they'd had a confrontation a few days earlier that had left Alex sitting crying in her room for at least an hour.

"Sophie?" Chell called back, and her eldest came to the door.

"Who's—oh, hi Thomas. You looking for Alex?"

"Yes." Thomas said, his expression never changing.

"I'll go get her." Sophie offered, and she ran off back into the house.

Alex came to the door moments later, and Thomas's face cracked the slightest bit in a smile.

"Hold out your hands." Thomas commanded, and Alex obeyed.

There was a muffled chirp as Thomas adjusted his bird to hold it with one hand. With the other, he sprinkled Alex's hands with seeds. Slowly, gently, he hovered the bird over her hands. After a minute of chirping, the bird eventually began to eat, pecking quietly at Alex's hands in search of seed.

Alex flinched, but she kept her hands still as Thomas slowly put the bird in her hands. As the fluff grazed her fingers, Alex's face broke into a smile to rival the one her raisin bread had produced. She gasped, and hesitantly, she got one hand free, hovering it over the bird's feathers.

The bird chirped at her hand, then returned to feeding. Alex carefully curved a finger and stroked the bird's feathers. For a magical moment, the bird sat obligingly and let her stroke it. If it was possible, Alex's smile glowed even brighter.

Then the bird finished the seed and it flew off. Alex's face fell, but Thomas quickly cut in:

"Don't worry. They hafta get used to you first. I'll come back later and show you how to get them to come. See you later, Alex."

Thomas left, with no more fanfare than when he had come.

Alex came back inside, her face still alight with the residue of a smile. She went into the room she shared with Sophie, and Chell could hear the sounds of muted conversation as the girls began to talk.

"So who was that then?" Wheatley called from the sofa, looking up from a book he'd been reading. He was still on the same page, however, from several minutes earlier when she'd been sitting next to him, so she gathered he'd been pretending to read while he listened to the conversation at the front door.

"Thomas Snider." Chell said simply, and sat next to him. He held out an arm, and she snuggled close, feeling the affects of the drowsy afternoon sunshine streaming through the living-room windows.

"Did he really have a bird with him?"

"A wild one, yes."

A beat. Chell suddenly looked back up at Wheatley's face to see a bit of a scheming expression there.

"Don't get any ideas, they're only ten."

"Well, you know, Alex's actually nine, but you never know. It could happen."

Chell laid back down and let out a tired sigh. "I love you, but don't meddle."

"What me? Never."

Note: So I've put this on my profile already, but I'll also put it here as a very quick note since it's happened several times. I am a sentient ink puddle not currently looking for a relationship. Unless you're messaging me to geek out about writing ideas or portal in general, please don't.