Chapter XVII- The Second Face

They had come back late that night; Susan had been growing frantic with worry, and Wallace did his share of yelling once the boys returned, berating them about the importance of coming back on time. It was enough that Connie was in the hospital, and it was more than generous of Wallace and Susan to allow Henry and Mark such freedom in the first place. Wallace was angry- and disappointed- that they would put their family to such worry and abuse it.

Henry and Mark took the stern lecture Susan gave them- and Wallace's angry tirade- with bowed heads and quiet apologies, making no effort to argue or protest. Both of them seemed tired, dazed; as if the day's adventures had quite exhausted them, and they had no energy to spare for arguing with parents.

Mark was quiet through dinner, but when asked questions he responded clearly, and with confidence. For once, when telling the tale of the day's events came up, Mark did more of the talking than Henry, who looked especially worn out. They'd gone sight-seeing all over town, Mark said, and had even gotten into a few snowball fights. No mention was made of seeing any houses- nothing was said of any huge, old house once owned by somewhat distant relatives. Susan and Wallace made a note to not let the boys wander so far in that direction on their own anymore- but everything seemed fine. Tired as they were, Mark and Henry got along well enough at dinner, and seemed to have even patched up their earlier differences.

Henry and Mark both asked about Connie, and appeared relieved when told she was doing fine.

The next day, Connie's fifth day in the hospital and closing in on her return home, Mark and Henry calmly assured Wallace and Susan that everything would be fine while they left for dinner. They would remain in the house, keeping an eye on things, and understood that the restaurant's phone number was on the fridge's door.

Wallace and Susan left for their first dinner outing in quite a while, feeling very grateful that Mark and Henry were both so at ease with the situation. They were accepting, even eager- perhaps to prove that they could, indeed, be left alone to be in charge.

"They're such good boys," Susan said, and Wallace agreed. "We're lucky to have them."

Once his parent's car had pulled out of the driveway and its red taillights vanished into the growing darkness, Henry jumped back from the blinds in the living room. "Come on, Mark!" he cried, racing upstairs. Mark followed him, interested but curious. "What?"

Henry reached the main hallway upstairs and pulled down the blinds at the far end of the hall. He looked at Mark, smiling warmly. "We gotta toughen you up, Mark," Henry said. "I gotta teach you how to fight."

Mark nodded; he had few reservations about that idea. He'd learned about the karate classes Henry had been taking, and about how Henry could now even beat up bigger kids at school if he wanted. Henry was fast, smart, and mean- and yet if he felt like it, he could be kind and generous. Mark had been feeling a little odd since he'd passed out in that big house earlier in the day- Henry said he'd tripped and hit his head on a flashlight- but he felt better, too. His throat was sore- Mark guessed it was because of all that cold he'd been exposed to. A fierce Maine winter could do all sorts of things you hadn't experienced before.

Henry stripped to his khaki pants, and Mark did the same. Facing each other in the hallway, each boy bowed elegantly to the other.

Then they advanced, and the fists flew. Mark only knew rough, improvised schoolyard fighting, and even then not much of it. He landed some good blows now and then, but Henry was advancing fast and hard. His fists, clenched just right, struck in calculated blows; as Mark took hit after hit in the chest and ribs, it sounded like Henry was chopping wood. Henry soon drove Mark back towards the window, slamming him up against it. Suddenly, Mark lashed out and caught Henry in the throat; the blonde recoiled, coughing and gagging, and Mark struck out again with a blow to the stomach, chopping Henry to the floor.

Mark stood over Henry with a grin on his face. "Round one, Mark," he said, smiling.

They went straight on to another five rounds. Henry was a fast-moving, hard-hitting fighter, but Mark could strike out with surprising force. All he needed was to know what he was trying to do. He had to wade into a fight wanting to not just hurt his enemy, but kill him. Henry coached Mark all through their hand-to-hand duels, showing him all manner of moves and tricks. There were feints, acts of deception, and ways to counterattack. Always, Henry urged Mark, keep moving.

"If you stop in a fight, you're dead," Henry said simply, shrugging. "You have to keep going."

They were on round seven- it was 3-3, much to Henry's surprise- when the Evans elders got home. Mark, sweating furiously, had driven a panting Henry over to the top of the stairs. He had knocked Henry down, and planted a foot on his cousin's chest.

"I could break your nose now," Mark gloated, somehow delighting in the fact that he'd knocked his superior, high-and-mighty cousin down yet again. It felt good to be winning fights for once.

It felt good to be learning how to do it.

Henry just shrugged. "Go ahead," he said calmly. "Smash my nose. You gotta stomp pretty hard, though. There's gonna be blood everywhere."

He almost sounded like he wanted to see it. Mark grinned, thinking about indulging his cousin's request.

"Mark!"

"Henry!"

Wallace and Susan had just come in the front door, and were looking up from the base of the stairs. To say the least, they looked very shocked.

Immediately, both boys stopped what they were doing. Mark helped Henry to his feet, and both boys came down the stairs, smiling sheepishly as they came.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Henry said, looking suitably abashed. "We were just fighting."

Susan looked stunned. "Just fighting? Henry, when did I ever-"

"It's okay, Aunt Susan," Mark said, setting an arm around his cousin's bare shoulders and squeezing a little. He smiled warmly, and Henry smiled back.

"Henry was giving me some karate lessons," Mark said. "The hallway upstairs had room."

Finally, Susan and Wallace sighed, mostly out of relief that the two had not been actually trying to beat each other up. "Not so rough, okay, fellas?" Wallace said. "And if you want to practice like that, I got some boxing gloves in the basement. Both of you were probably gonna have bruises tomorrow."

Susan added, "And no fighting anywhere but the basement, in the carpeted play room down there. We don't need you breaking anything up here, and on these hard wood floors, one of you could get hurt."

Mark and Henry nodded, almost in unison. Wallace and Susan couldn't help but smile a little; it was nice to see them clicking so well. In the past day or two, especially, the two had started doing so much together, they seemed to be acting like brothers.

And Henry, for his part, no longer seemed jealous of any extra attention Mark or Connie might get. With Mark for a friend, he seemed content with everything- and, as Susan recalled, he and Mark must have had some very pointed discussions about Connie before now. Mark, somehow, had set Henry straight on a few things. Henry even took some time to come down to the living room that night- now in his pajamas, back to being fully clothed- to apologise for the accident a few days ago, and for not doing more to keep Connie safe.

Wallace and Susan were surprised, but pleased, to hear such calm, mature talk from their son. Henry was explaining what he felt he'd done wrong, and promising to do better in the future. Both his parents thanked Henry for coming to talk to them, and sent him back upstairs feeling much better about things. Even Susan felt her recent doubts starting to slip away- Mark was such a wonderful boy, and he was clearly showing Henry, already a good son, how to be better. Maybe that was it- perhaps that was the issue all along. Maybe Henry had just needed someone his own age to show him how to care about his sister.

Susan was startled, though, when she got upstairs later that night and saw Mark standing at the far end of the hall, leaning against the doorway to Henry's darkened room. It was a little odd that Mark was still up, but what was stranger still was the look she spotted on his face when she first looked at him. There one moment and gone the next, the look so surprised Susan she went to bed that night sure she'd imagined it. She'd been seeing things with Henry, maybe- but even that didn't seem to be true. No way could anything like that be possible with Mark.

But in that one moment, that single instant before Mark realised Susan could see him, he had the strangest smile on his face, the oddest gleam twinkling in his eyes.

It was almost contemptuous.

Almost a smirk.