Mended Family

"Leo…"

"Mm-hm?"

"Ever get the feeling… that we're different than other kids?"

The blue haired thirteen-year-old looked up from his sandwich and stared at his brother. "Different as in how?" he asked.

Sparky stirred his yogurt around in circles with his spoon, never once looking up. "Well, for one thing, we seem to be eating lunch under the washroom sinks every other day," he mumbled.

Galileo blinked and then looked about. He had almost forgotten where they were until he saw the tiled floor and the stalls across from them. They were, in fact, sitting beneath the sinks in the boys' washrooms at their school, something he and Sparky did certain days of the week when trouble was around. It was not that they enjoyed doing so, of course not; more because it was the only place safe for them to be when bullies were around.

They had hardly grabbed their lunch bags when the noon bell rang. And while other students rushed to their places in the cafeteria, the two stepbrothers rushed into the washroom before bullies saw them.

Leo cleared his throat and tried to make a joke out of their situation. "Look on the bright side," the English boy said: "At least we won't need to travel far if we need to use the washroom."

But the red-headed boy did not look up. His dark blue eyes were clouded and distant, and his face was unreadable. Leo let his smile dissipate before looking at his food. "We can go eat in the cafeteria if you'd like, Sparky," he said with his usual gentle voice.

Sparky shook his head. "No, I'm fine here, Leo," he replied without looking up.

Leo nodded weakly before taking another bite out of his sandwich. He knew his brother would continue to speak, so he patiently waited for him to do so.

Which he did: "We're not the only kids who come from a broken family," Sparky muttered. "Joshua Clinton in the eighth grade has divorced parents. And Hannah Parker's dad is in jail because he committed crimes. Oliver Reimer lives with his Uncle and Aunt, but he doesn't get picked on like we do…"

The more Sparky named children he knew who came from troubled or broken families, the more Galileo noticed his eyes begin to fill with tears. As energetic as the boy could be, Sparky was incredibly sensitive. He hated seeing people upset; Galileo remembered how he said it was "like being stung by a yellow-jacket without actually being stung"—Sparky often used strange comparisons to explain his emotions. But when his own emotions were challenged, even the brightness in his blue eyes would go out.

The subject on family, in fact, was one subject Sparky was incredibly protective of.

Sparky continued to stir his yogurt, and after a pause, spoke once more: "Sometimes I get mad," he said, as though it was an emotion he kept to himself; "I get mad at the doctors, I get mad at drunk drivers, I get mad at… God, for screwing things up. I even get mad at… my dad… for leaving so soon. If he was here, then Ana and I wouldn't be picked on at school. I wouldn't get a black eye or a swollen cheek for being part of a broken family… or because some lousy truck driver had one too many drinks before putting the pedal to the metal…" Sparky finally set his food down and crossed his arms as a frown fell over his brow. "We wouldn't be a broken family," he muttered heavily.

Galileo listened closely as he normally did when his best friend spoke about his feelings towards certain situations. This, in fact, was something they had discussed many a time. "And if Charlene hadn't been so careless, and cheated on Father three times, then I'd probably still be living in London," he said. "My parents would be together, living happily, and I wouldn't have to worry about the idiots at this school."

He paused here, and after staring at his turkey sandwich intently, almost as though waiting for it to speak, Galileo turned his head and looked his little brother. "But just because things didn't turn out the way they could have, it doesn't make us a broken family, Sparky," he said. Once Sparky had turned his head to look inquisitively at him, Galileo shrugged, grinned a little and went on: "We're just… blended. Mum and Dad love each other, so that's enough to let us know that we're a family. We come from different countries, but that doesn't make us any less brothers than the Wilson twins down the street. Your biological father was killed in an accident, and my biological parents had a divorce. But like you've told me countless of times before, the step in front of mum or dad doesn't mean a thing: it just makes us… a little more unique than others."

Galileo closed his eyes and bit into his sandwich. He chewed with a smile still on his lips, and once he had swallowed enough, he spoke again: "And what could make us, Xerus-Ignatius Joseph Flynn and Galileo Archimedes Bennett, any more unique… than having lunch under the washroom sink?" he said, quite optimistically. "And tossing in the fact that your hair is an unnaturally bright shade of red while mine is a metallic blue, I say you can't get any more unique than this. Forget them, those pathetic bozo brains who wish to get something out of pushing us around. That's what happens to people like us. Tomorrow, they'll be in the Principal's office anyhow."

Sparky blinked several times quickly and stared in awe at his brother. "How many honey-flavoured jelly-beans did you have in your lunch today?" he asked.

Galileo shrugged with a smile. "Enough to make me ramble on for hours, I suppose," he said, making his brother laugh. "I can't help it; those things taste fantastic!"

"Well, whether you had a dozen or five, thanks for the pep-talk," Sparky added as he picked up his yogurt. "I guess I get so caught up in a black eye that I tend to forget that different doesn't always mean bad things."

"Save a black eye. But on the bright side, you can go trick-or-treating as a Dalmatian."

"That was even lamer than the jokes Mr. Tchaikowski says in Math class, Bro."

As Galileo laughed in reply, the door to the washroom swung open with a creak. Both boys fell silent and watch as a set of large feet walked around the sinks and stepped over their stretched out legs. The stranger stopped in front of them, and seemed to be waiting silently for any possible answer before finally leaning over and peering beneath the sinks. Into view came the dark red head of the millionaire's son, Raphaël Belanger.

The two stepbrothers tilted their heads in one direction curiously, waiting for the silent teenager to speak. It took a few awkward seconds of silence before Raphaël finally said something: "Are you two honestly going to stay there all lunch hour, or are you eventually going to come out and play some football before we go back into class?" he asked. His voice was ringing with a French accent, something Sparky had always been fond of—he enjoyed speaking to people from different countries just to hear their accents.

Which was one way Galileo could tell that his brother paid attention to the things he said.

The brothers smiled at their friend before Sparky grabbed his soda bottle. "Once we're finished being different, we'll come out," he replied.

When all Raphaël did was cock and eyebrow, Galileo laughed.