Peas. Yuck. But Piers loved Uncle's smiles. They reached all the way to his eyes. So, while Uncle couldn't cook very well, wasn't good at cleaning or folding clothes, Piers never wanted for anything. Unlike some kids in his class.
Uncle Lee took charge in groups of people, too, barking out orders. No one questioned him, jumping to do whatever he said. He'd taken Piers' little league team to the playoffs. A few parents asked him for discipline tips.
Who needed discipline tips when Piers didn't dare disappoint the only father figure he'd ever known?
And if Piers needed school supplies, he'd come home to find them. More jeans appeared in his closet if he'd outgrown a pair. He never saw shopping bags or mailing boxes. Maybe Uncle made up for poor housecleaning by recycling.
Uncle answered one question, now to ask another. Maybe Piers could work up the nerve to ask about his parents again. A teacher once mentioned how they didn't look alike since Uncle had light hair, nearly white, though he didn't appear very old, and his eyes were a light brown, almost golden. He wore sunglasses a lot to keep people from asking questions, but he'd finally stopped coloring his hair.
Piers' hair was a combination of colors, primarily black or dark brown, with strange, natural blue highlights the kids teased him about. Uncle once argued with the school principal because students weren’t allowed to dye their hair.
Piers changed schools the following week.
Uncle had told the teacher,“We each take after another family branch.”
Piers wished he were muscular, like Uncle, instead of a scrawny little thing. While hundreds of scars covered Uncle's body, he'd never explained the strange lone scar on Piers' chest. Mrs. Rice said he must've had heart problems as a baby.
No family photos hung on the walls. Uncle said he didn't have any. Nothing hung on their walls.“Makes moving easier,”Uncle told him.
Next question. “Why do we move so much?”
Once more, Uncle stopped midmotion of folding a pair of mismatched socks. “Don't you like seeing different places? Going to new schools?”
“But I can't make friends. Every time I do, I have to leave them behind. Timmy in math class says you're on the run from the law. Amy in English says you kidnapped me and have to keep moving, so no one finds us.”
Uncle gave a strange-sounding laugh. “I used to move around for my job. I enjoy a change of scenery from time to time.” He made a terrible liar, but Piers and a classmate once spent an afternoon in the library searching the Internet. They found no record of Uncle Lee or a missing child matching Piers' description.
Attending school with other kids to talk to made him realize the strangeness of his life. Uncle didn’t carry a cell phone. They didn't watch much television. Instead, they read books, though Uncle occasionally watched movies late at night, mostly about sword fights or sorcerers. He never spoke of family. Sometimes he mentioned waiting for a message from home but never said a town or country. He'd once spoken of a place called Terra New, or something like that.
He'd then slapped a hand over his mouth.
He'd also referred to their apartment as “barracks” more than once.
“What do you do for a living?” Piers asked. “Mrs. Rice keeps asking. I didn't know what to say.”
Just for a moment, Uncle's posture stiffened. Then he forced a smile. Piers always knew Uncle's forced smiles. “Mrs. Rice should mind her own business. Now, go clean up. Supper's nearly ready.”
Piers washed his hands in their shared bathroom. Wait a minute! Uncle hadn't answered.
Again.
Piers also hadn't gotten around to asking about his parents.
Dressed in flannel pajamas, Piers crawled into bed. Uncle Lee came in, bringing a chair from the kitchen table.
“What story will you tell me tonight, Uncle Lee?”
“What story do you want to hear?” Uncle Lee settled in the chair beside the bed, a cup of tea in his hand. He knew so many great stories. “How about the magical realm?” Magic might not be more than tricks, but mages fought magical battles in the stories, and maids lit fires with a click of their fingers. “You love those stories, don't you?”
“Yes!”
“Elves and magic you shall have.” Uncle settled farther into his chair. “Many, many seasons ago, the gods created a magical world, filling it with all kinds of creatures.”
“What kinds?”
“Ogres, trolls, elves, fairies, sprites, and so many more. They all lived in relative harmony. Then, the gods added humans.” A note of caution crept into Uncle Lee's voice. “The humans were suspicious by nature, prone to judge anyone different from themselves. They thought they were better than the other inhabitants of their world.”
Piers leaned back against his pillow, pulling the covers to his chin. In his mind, he saw the magical creatures. He often dreamed of them. Occasionally, those dreams turned to nightmares, something bad searching for him. But elves were good. Fairies, pixies, and others. “Were there dragons?”