What We Made – Episode 1: Fate

Title: Fate
Series Title: What We Made
Series Order: 1
Fandom: 9-1-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Contemporary, Drama
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon-level violence and situations, discussion-murder, discussion of child abuse/neglect, references to domestic violence.
Author Note: See main series page
Timeline: Mostly pre-series up to some alternate season 1
Challenge: Rough Trade April 2024 — Mirrors (Alternate Universe/Soulmates)
Word Count: ~15,100
Summary: Evan Buckley had his first encounter with Fate when he was five years old. Because he’s willing to listen to Fate’s call, his life takes a drastic turn for the better.

* * *

Evan Buckley had his first encounter with fate when he was five years old. It wasn’t his own fate, or even a fate he was meant to intervene in, but it was someone’s fate; a fate left unresolved. Even at five, he knew that answering to the will of Fate was a choice, but it was also a test. And someone had already failed that test.

Most children learned practically from the cradle about how Fate made her call. The stories were told at their parents’ knee or around the dinner table. Evan learned about the fabric of fate and Fate’s will in preschool, and then the stories continued on in kindergarten. Everyone knew about how Fate herself interacted directly with the world—through small stones that seemed to appear and fall from nowhere.

The stones that spoke of a fate intervention were all similar. Dark grey or black, small, round, and with some number of white lines on them—usually at least two lines, with one line crossing all the others. No one knew for certain the meaning of the lines, but fate scholars had theorized that the crossing line was the intervention of Fate through an intercessor.

There was another kind of fate stone, but those were granted to couples who were destined for one another. Those were called soul stones. Evan knew his grandparents, Paul and Bethany Buckley, had such stones, but he’d never seen them in person. He rarely saw his grandparents anymore anyway. Even if he had seen his grandparents, people didn’t just show their soul stones, and it was considered the rudest thing in the world to ask to see them.

It was estimated that only about one couple in a thousand were soul mates, though it was hard to know for certain, since there was an optional registration for couple who wanted legal protections. Since it wasn’t mandatory, people could only guess at the true number of fated pairs.

Intercessory fate stones, however, could come to anyone. Some people reported never receiving a fate stone in their entire life, while others reported receiving more than one.

When it came to the stones themselves, Evan had seen photos of them in picture books, but he’d never seen one in person until that day in the park when he felt something emanating from a small patch of grass near the edge of the park.

Even though Evan was only five, his mother didn’t see a problem with letting Evan play alone, so he was by himself when he went to investigate the odd feeling drawing his attention.

There in the grass, lying innocently as if it wasn’t shocking him down to his Converse sneakers, was a black stone with two white lines crossed by a third, heavier line.

The fact that he felt something coming from the stone supposedly meant Fate was unfulfilled.

Even in preschool, they taught that walking the path of Fate was a choice. Fate may have a plan, but people still have free will. Fate would send a stone with a vision attached to it, and that vision would direct someone on how to intervene to keep another person on the path Fate had chosen for them. When Fate was fulfilled, the stone was just a stone. The fact that this stone was still practically vibrating with energy meant Fate was unsatisfied.

Did the person Fate had chosen as intercessor not feel the stone arrive?

No, that couldn’t be it.

He’d always been told the stones were impossible to miss. That despite seemingly appearing from thin air, you could feel their arrival and even catch them if you wanted. Fate wouldn’t send the stone if someone were too distracted to notice. No one had ever heard of a doctor receiving a stone during surgery—that sort of critical distraction just didn’t happen.

But then what did that leave to account for this stone sitting in the grass?

He’d heard whispered stories that people actually abandoned Fate’s design, but surely someone didn’t see Fate’s will and just walk away.

Or did they not even bother to look? Did someone see the stone tumble to the Earth and decide to walk away without even a question in their heart?

Evan looked around for an adult, wondering if there was someone he could ask to take the stone to figure out what Fate needed to be done. But there was no one; not that Evan wasn’t used to there not being an adult when he needed one.

Biting his lip, he squatted down in front of the stone, feeling more energy the closer he got to it. To his child’s mind, it seemed like whatever vision this stone carried was very important to Fate, and Fate really didn’t want to be ignored.

Feeling like he was being naughty, he reached out and picked up the evidence that there was a human being out there who mattered enough for Fate to directly intervene in their life.

Immediately, he was hit with images of what might happen—of what Fate wanted to stop from happening. He was entirely too young to be seeing such terrible things.

He swallowed down nausea, more aware of the stone in his hand and the sick feeling in his tummy than the pounding of his feet on the pavement.

He recognized the boy in the vision; Tommy lived two blocks down from Evan, but one block over. Tommy was eight. Too old to play with a little kid like Evan.

Evan was no longer on his street; he was in a place he wasn’t supposed to go. He’d always been told to go straight to the park at the end of his street and come straight back home. But now he was disobeying his mother…because Fate wanted him to save another boy.

Not him, he reminded himself. Someone else had been chosen as the intercessor. He wondered if the vision was so alarming that the adult had run off to fix it and left the stone behind by accident? Maybe the problem was already solved and Evan would just wind up where he wasn’t supposed to be and get in trouble for not going straight home.

He made it to the house just as Tommy was putting his bike in the garage, which was cluttered with toys and camping gear. The front door was standing open.

Tommy was headed toward the door. There were no adults around that he could see; no one was trying to stop this.

The intercessor, presumably an adult, had seen the vision and just walked away from it.

The thought made Evan so mad that, even though he was scared, he let the anger fuel him, and he ran up to Tommy, catching his arm just as Tommy was about to take the first step to go inside.

“No!”

“What the…?” Tommy stared at him. “You’re that Buckley kid. What are you doing here?”

“Don’t go inside.”

“What? Listen, squirt, I live here.”

“I know. Don’t go inside.”

Tommy looked like he was one step away from punching Evan, but he settled for trying to yank his arm away. “Go home, baby Buckley. Bother someone your own age.”

“No!” Evan pressed the stone into Tommy’s hand. “Fate cares about you, Tommy. You can’t go inside!”

His teachers always said that the person the fate was about never could see the visions. The visions were meant to guide the intercessor, but supposedly, they could be seen by others as long as the fate energy was strong enough. There was a chosen intercessor, but until fate was averted, anyone except the recipient of fate’s blessing could see the vision.

Tommy stared at the stone, eyes wide with shock. “This is about me?”

“It’s about you. You can’t go inside.”

“And if I do?”

Evan bit his lip. “He wants to hurt you,” he whispered.

Tommy paled and would have fallen if Evan, who was much smaller, hadn’t been holding on to him with all his might. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Who do you trust most in the world?”

“My uncle Thomas—I’m named for him.”

“Is there a neighbor you trust who’d let us use their phone?”

Tommy stared at Evan for a long time before nodding. “Yeah…” he swallowed heavily, throat clicking like it was completely dry. “Will you come with me? Explain to him what you saw?”

“Sure.”

“Come on. It’s just three houses away.”

A short time later found Evan sitting on a counter, feet bouncing off the cabinet door as he licked a fudge pop while a police officer asked him questions about how he’d come across the stone. They were still waiting for Tommy’s uncle to arrive.

“You found it in the grass at the park?”

“Yep.” He explained that he’d look for an adult, but he’d felt fate energy pouring off the stone, so he’d decided to pick it up.

Since Fate was still considered unresolved, the stone still pulsed. When the officer had arrived, he had held the stone and gone pale. He’d seemed reluctant to hand it back to Tommy before Mrs. Carson, Tommy’s neighbor, reminded the officer that Tommy couldn’t see what was on the stone.

So, Evan answered questions from the officer while Tommy clutched the stone to his chest that showed a vision of his own death.

“And the stone didn’t come to you directly?”

Evan shook his head. “I’m not sure how long it was there, really. I was supposed to be going straight home. Always straight home, but then I felt the stone, and no one was around. You hear stories about people finding them lying around, but I thought they were just stories.”

“Yeah, me too, kid.”

“Am I gonna be in trouble with my mom?”

“We’ll get you home and explain it to your mother.”

“I called your mother, Evan,” Mrs. Carson said. “I explained that you’d seen something in the park and were answering some questions for the police.”

“Is she coming here?”

“Uh, no. She said the officer could bring you home when he was done with you.”

The officer’s eyebrows did funny things, and he and Mrs. Carson stared at one another, then the officer focused on Evan again. “So, you saw the vision on the stone…?”

“…yes.”

“Do you need to talk about it?”

Evan shook his head so violently, he almost tipped off the counter. Mrs. Carson steadied him, then patted him on the back, exchanging another look with the officer.

“Okay, well—”

Before the officer could finish his sentence, a big man with a bushy beard entered. “You told me to come in, Mrs. Carson…?”

“Uncle Thomas!”

“Hey, junior!”

Tommy flew into his uncle’s arms, and Evan smiled, feeling both happy and a little sad.

The stone in Tommy’s hands stopped pulsing. Fate was satisfied.

Later, Tommy went to hand the stone back to Evan, but Evan pushed it back towards him. Typical stone etiquette was that the intercessor chose what to do with the stone but, as far as Evan was concerned, this fate was entirely about Tommy.

“That’s yours, Tommy. Fate came for you. Keep it and remember that you matter.”

His uncle smiled at Evan and patted him on the shoulder.

Tommy’s eyes were shiny with tears as he nodded.

Officer Grayson took Evan back home and tried to explain the situation to Mom and Dad. They were disinterested and shooed the officer out of their house.

* * *

Evan was seven the next time he encountered Fate, and it came to him directly. He was in school, dragging his feet to an after-school detention for fidgeting too much in class.

The air suddenly felt odd—heavy as if it were humid, but there was no moisture in the air. Then there was a tremor, that distinctive tremor of fate intersecting their plane of existence.

Evan was alone in the hallway, and he was so startled that he didn’t even try to catch the stone; he just let it fall straight to the ground where it landed with a resonant thunk. Fate stones didn’t bounce like regular rocks. They just landed in one spot with a thunk like they had twenty times their actual mass.

Had he not been so startled that it was happening, he would have easily been able to catch it but, instead, the black rock with one line, and one intersecting line, had fallen straight to the linoleum floor to stare up at him with an air of expectation.

Surely this wasn’t for him.

But he could feel in his bones this time that he’d been chosen as the intercessor. He was seven and Fate had chosen him.

He knelt and picked up the little stone, letting the vision wash over him.

Evan was good at improvising, so he didn’t even take time to plan, he just started walking toward the high school section of the unified school, making his way through the empty corridors until he was in front of classroom 14B.

He pushed open the door, letting it bounce loudly off the wall, startling the two people inside. “Hello, Mr. Tomlinson. I’m sorry I’m late. It’s a long walk over here, and I had to stop to potty.”

Mr. Tomlinson blinked at him. “That’s fine.”

He knew the teacher didn’t know his name, so Evan barreled on, smiling up at the teenage girl who was staring at him like a stinkbug. “Hi! I’m Evan Buckley. Who are you?”

“Jenny Roberts.”

“Neat. Hi, Jenny.”

“What are you doing here, short stack?”

Evan stared at her in confusion. “Uh, math tutoring…? Isn’t that why you’re here? Are we being tutored together? I’ll bet you’re way ahead of me, so that’ll get super boring, super fast.”

Jenny looked annoyed and then smug. “You’re right, so get lost.”

“I can’t. Mr. Tomlinson promised my parents, so I have to be in this classroom until they come to get me.” He planted his butt in the front seat, right in Mr. Tomlinson’s eyeline. “They introduced fractions, Mr. Tomlinson. My sister said they didn’t get fractions until the third grade, but I’m getting them in second! It’s not fair, really. I don’t get it—at all—and I don’t want to fail math. My parents won’t have it.” Not really true; he was pretty sure his parents wouldn’t care one way or the other as long as it didn’t embarrass them.

Mr. Tomlinson cleared his throat. “Well, why don’t you pull out your latest assignments, and we can go over them together?”

Jenny huffed. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Mr. T.” There was something weird and promising in her voice.

“That’d be great, Ms. Roberts. My apologies for not warning you about my tutoring session.”

She waved it off. “I suppose you can’t control all the pests in the school.”

Evan smiled winningly at her.

As soon as she’d left the room, Mr. Tomlinson gave Evan a look. “I don’t tutor elementary school students, Mr. Buckley. Care to explain?”

Evan slid out of the seat and pulled the stone from his pocket, setting the little black rock, vibrating with fate energy, on the desk.

Mr. Tomlinson stared at it with wide eyes.

“You keep not reporting her for some reason. By the time you do, it will be too late, sir. She’ll have told her lies first out of spite, and then no one will believe you. You’re trying to be kind and decent, but not everyone is playing by the same rules. Then your life will be all messed up.”

“Oh.” Mr. Tomlinson sat heavily in his seat.

“I think we should go to the office, sir. After all, I’m in trouble for skipping detention.”

Mr. Tomlinson blinked at him a few times, then managed a weak smile. “I promise that I’m capable of handling your detention. What was it for?”

“Fidgeting.”

“I see.” He seemed like he really did see. Weird. No one else did. “All right, Evan, shall we go to the office?”

Evan accompanied Mr. Tomlinson to talk to the school vice principal and then the principal. They both asked him some questions about the fate vision, and the principal was able to get some of the weakening visions from the stone, so the questions weren’t too much. Mostly they left him in the outer office doing his homework while they had adult conversations behind closed doors.

Somewhere along the way, the stone stopped pulsing and calmed down into a settled fate.

When they finally emerged, Mr. Tomlinson sat next to him and offered a smile. “Thank you.”

Evan handed him the stone. “Remember that you matter, Mr. Tomlinson, okay? Being kind doesn’t mean you have to put everyone else first.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, kid. Do you actually need help with your math?”

Evan shrugged. He probably did.

He wound up with a math tutor after all.

* * *

The next stone was weird. Evan was eight, close to turning nine. It was his first summer completely alone since Maddie had told their parents she wasn’t coming home from college, and he was struggling with feeling lonely and abandoned.

He caught this one, which he’d heard was possible if you were paying attention. Feeling the ripples of fate in the air, he held out his hand, and it plopped right into his palm.

It looked much like the two others he’d seen, except it had a single straight line. He’d never heard of a fate stone with only a single line.

Frowning, he rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface of the stone and saw himself.

Fate wanted him to call his grandparents. There was nothing really beyond that. The pulses were gentle, encouraging.

Weird.

His grandparents hadn’t wanted to talk to or see him in a couple of years, and as much as he’d liked to talk to them, he wasn’t really wanting to be told he was a bother by two people he missed almost as much as he missed his sister.

The stone pulsed in his hand, and the vision of him dialing the phone replayed.

This shouldn’t be harder than going up to strangers, but it somehow was. It was personal, and it was rejection by people he loved.

The stone pulsed again, Fate insisting.

If he ignored it, he wondered if Fate would choose an intercessor? Would some stranger show up at his door asking him to call his grandparents? That would seem so…trivial. And a little embarrassing.

With a sigh, he picked up the cordless phone in the kitchen and dialed the number from memory. It was one of five he’d memorized.

“Hello?”

“Grandma?”

“Evan? Oh my goodness, is that really you, sweetheart?” She didn’t sound upset to hear from him.

“I…” He swallowed back the emotion. “I know you didn’t want me to call, but—”

“Who in the world told you that?!”

Evan hesitated.

“Evan?”

“Mom said you and Grandpa said I made you tired, and you didn’t want me coming over anymore,” he whispered.

“Absolutely not! Sweetheart, I never said such a thing. Oh my sweet lord, I’m going—” She took a deep breath. “Darling, your parents said you thought you were getting too big for grandparents hovering, that we embarrassed you.”

“No! I promise I never said that!” Evan frantically denied. “Grandma, I’ve missed you so much.” He sniffled. “Maddie’s in college, and it’s so quiet. I miss Grandpa’s stories and your singing.”

“I’m a terrible singer, baby.”

“I miss it,” he insisted. “I miss sound and laughter.”

“Oh, Evan. I’m so glad you called. We’re going to come see you. Let me talk to your father; we’re going to make arrangements to come see you as soon as possible. None of their excuses are keeping me away this time.”

“Okay. I’ll tell them to call you when they get home.”

“And when are they coming home?”

“Um…” he looked at the wall calendar his mother had reluctantly put in the kitchen. “In six more days.”

“Six…days? Where are they?”

“They went on a ten-day cruise.”

“I see. And who’s staying with you? Since you’re calling from the house phone, I know you’re still at home.”

“No one.”

There was a long silence that made Evan fidget. “Grandma? Mom said she checked, and there’s no law that says I can’t stay here by myself. The refrigerator is full, and she left me extra money to walk to the convenience store.”

“Does Maddie know?”

“I’m not sure. Mom talked to her before they left, but Maddie doesn’t come home or call much anymore. I saw her last Thanksgiving. She says she’ll be coming home, but there’s always a reason she doesn’t.” She’d even barely been home the summer after her high school graduation. She’d moved in with a friend near college until she could move into her dorm at the start of the school year.

“Right. Evan, stay there, and do not leave the house. We’re on our way and should be there in no more than forty-five minutes. Do not open the door for anyone but your grandfather or me.”

He perked up. “Really?”

“Yes, darling. I’m not leaving you home alone for another week. Sweet Jesus.”

He knew his mother was going to be furious, but he didn’t even care. He’d been so lonely the last four days. His parents, of course, wanted to go on a cruise during his summer vacation, so he didn’t even have school to occupy himself, and his mother had prohibited him from going anywhere. He was so excited to have company, he’d happily take the spanking his mother was sure to dole out for him calling his grandparents.

* * *

Everything had escalated like crazy.

He’d thought it would just be his grandparents, but then there were two police officers and someone from Child Welfare Services. Despite his mother’s assurances that this was all legal, apparently, there was something about the situation that no one liked.

Evan answered their questions, showed them his mother’s instructions and her itinerary, as well as the fifty dollars for extra food in case he needed more milk or something. Beyond that, he just stayed cuddled up to his grandfather while his grandmother whispered furiously to the CWS worker and gestured so much she nearly took out every decoration in sight.

“This is a lot,” Evan whispered.

“I know,” Grandpa Paul answered. “We want you to come home to Carlisle with us for a while, but if we just take you with us, it could be considered kidnapping, so we need CWS to authorize us to have temporary guardianship of you. Make sure everything is actually legal.”

“So, it’s not really legal for me to be alone? But they leave me home alone all the time.”

“Legal is weird when it comes to this. Pennsylvania doesn’t have a minimum age that a child can stay home alone, so your mom is right about that, but the context and situation matter. If a child gets hurt, the parent is responsible. And your situation could possibly be looked at as child abandonment even beyond the neglect aspects that are readily apparent to all of us.”

Evan bit his lip.

“Can you understand that?”

Evan reluctantly nodded. “I don’t think they like me much, though, so it’s not so bad staying by myself.”

Grandpa sucked in a sharp breath and held Evan tighter.

Evan looked up. “You really want me to come stay?”

Grandpa smiled down at him and hugged so tight that Evan felt his bones creak. “More than anything, Evan.”

* * *

They didn’t just get permission from CWS; Grandpa Paul and Grandma Bethany had been given temporary custody. They packed Evan’s bags—almost everything he owned, weirdly—and headed to their home in Carlisle, which was on the other side of Harrisburg.

Grandma said she was going to fight for permanent custody, that her idiot son didn’t appreciate the gifts he’d been given.

Evan just rubbed the stone in his pocket and agreed to whatever Grandma said. He’d love to live with his grandparents, but he had a feeling his parents would fight for him, even though they didn’t really like him, just to spite…everyone.

His grandparents’ home was like stepping into a familiar dream. He hadn’t been here in a long time, but he remembered it and had good memories from being here. It was also like getting a hug because there were pictures of him on the wall, pictures of Maddie…. Things that made him feel loved.

“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing to a boy who looked kind of like him in a picture with Maddie.

Grandma was silent for a moment and then rubbed her hand over his head, smoothing his unruly hair back. “Can I tell you about him tomorrow? I think maybe that’s why your parents stopped wanting you to come over. You got old enough to ask questions and notice things they didn’t want you to notice. I’m so sorry we didn’t push harder to see you. We’ve missed you so much, Evan.”

He sniffled a little, though he was determined not to cry. “I missed you too.”

She pulled him in a side hug. “I’m so glad you called.”

He pulled the stone from his pocket and showed it to her.

She stared down at it for several long moments. “Oh. Well, that’s… That’s very special, Evan. For all of us.”

“It just has one line. It came to me, but it was kind of about me. Or maybe it was about you? I’m not sure. The vision was me calling you, and when I picked up the phone, Fate felt satisfied.” He stared up at Grandma Beth. “I don’t understand.”

“Let’s sit.” She took him over to the couch and then curled his hand around the small stone. “No one knows for sure about the lines on the stones, but what we do know is that single lines come not through an intercessor but straight to the person they’re for. It’s why they think the crossed line on the other stone is the intercessor acting on behalf of Fate, crossing into the many possible paths a person’s life may take.

“When there’s a single line, it’s your life. And it seems to be that Fate is saying, ‘hey, pay attention to this thing.’”

“But why?”

“I don’t think there’s a definitive answer for that. Maybe you were in danger, or perhaps Fate wants to set your life on a different course by letting you live here with me and Paul. Whatever it is, these kinds of stones tend to find their way to special people… People who listen to the will of Fate.” She frowned. “However, I’ve never heard of it being someone your age before, sweetheart.”

“Maybe because I’ve handled the stones already and did okay…?”

She blinked. “You did?”

“Just twice, I promise!”

“You’ve been an intercessor twice?”

He wanted to fidget. “Sort of…?”

“What does that mean?”

“The first time, someone had abandoned the stone in the grass and walked away. But, Grandma, there was a kid, and he was going to be killed, and I had to help!”

Her eyes went wide, and she suddenly pulled him close. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. What did your parents say?”

Evan was silent.

“I get it.” She blew out a breath. “And another stone came to you after that? Directly to you?”

He nodded, still clutched close to her.

“Mm. Well, I’m not sure what any of that means, but I’d like to know if you’re asked to be an intercessor again, okay? We have no right to interfere in the business of Fate, but if you need some help sorting out the things you see, we’ll help you. As a matter of fact, I think you probably need to talk to someone about that first stone, yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about that yet. I promise we’ll handle it and make sure you get the support you need. Thank you for telling me about the stones.” She touched his hand where it was curled around the stone that had been just for him. “Fate thought you were special enough to change your course; that brought you back to us, so I’m impossibly grateful.”

He sniffled and pressed his face to her arm. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too. Welcome home, baby.”

* * *

Grandma and Grandpa were granted custody after his parents were arrested when they returned from their cruise. Evan had been worried about it to the point that it made him sick, but Grandma had promised everything would be okay.

His ninth birthday came and went in June amidst the chaos of legal problems and home visits from Child Welfare, but it was such a nice birthday with his grandparents that Evan didn’t mind at all.

Maddie didn’t come home, which hurt. A lot. She’d only been gone to college for two semesters, and she was already never coming home. The first semester was okay, but then it was less and less until she barely even called. He got it, though. He figured he’d want to avoid their mother too. Grandma said Maddie had a new boyfriend, and girls her age tended to go a little batty in the head when new love was involved—to give it time.

There had been lots of conversations with lots of different people.

Too many conversations, too many people. It overwhelmed him on a good day.

CWS people, attorneys, judges, psychologists.

It was too much sometimes, but Evan was also happier than he’d been in a long time. Changing schools in September would probably suck, but it was a small price to pay for being allowed to live with his grandparents.

He wasn’t sure why there was so much fuss—he’d been being left home alone since he was five, after all—but Grandma said something about the totality of the circumstances, and that Evan should try not to worry so much. As long as he wanted to live with them—which he did—they wanted to make a happy home for him in Carlisle.

Then, in the midst of it all, Maddie made an entrance and got bad mad when she finally decided to call, and Evan wasn’t even sure why. He figured it had something to do with Grandma and Grandpa telling Evan about Daniel, but he couldn’t sort it all out. The one time he’d talked to her, she’d started yelling so much, and Grandpa had taken the phone away and forbidden them to have unsupervised contact until, “you get your head out of your ass, Madeline.”

Evan was still confused. And upset. He missed Maddie, but he sure didn’t like her yelling at him.

He didn’t really miss his parents, though, which made him feel a little weird, but he was seeing a psychologist every week, and they were helping with his “inappropriate guilt” issues. Now that he knew his parents just had him to be spare parts for the son they really wanted, he was quickly getting over any bad feelings he had about his parents being in trouble with the judge lady. She was nice to him, so he didn’t really care if she was mean to his parents.

Maybe Maddie was butthurt that he knew about Daniel now. Grandma said she had been sworn to secrecy, but Evan thought that was a gross secret. Both for them to make her swear to keep and for her to agree to keep. The grossest part was pretending like a whole boy, her brother, never existed. She’d known that boy, grown up with him. Would she start pretending like Evan never existed too?

He thought Maddie needed therapy more than he did, but Grandpa said that was for the adults to work on, and that Maddie had to make her own choices now that she was over eighteen. They were offering her assistance, and that was all they could do since she was grown and capable of “acting as foolish as the law allows, and we can’t stop her.”

The message over and over was that Evan was supposed to settle into his new home, focus on being a little kid, and stop leaving the house without telling anyone.

Okay, Grandma.

She panicked really quickly when she couldn’t find him.

One of the cool things about the move was that Mr. Tomlinson lived in Harrisburg and commuted to Hershey to work, so he was happy to come to Carlisle on the weekends and keep tutoring Evan in math. And fidgeting. He seemed to understand Evan’s ADHD and was helping him figure out how to manage it better, so that was great.

He had a fidget tutor. How many kids had that?

Then Grandpa arranged for Mr. Tomlinson to have an interview with the dean of a private high school in Harrisburg, and suddenly Mr. Tomlinson wasn’t commuting anymore. Evan wouldn’t be enrolled in that school for five more years, so maybe Mr. T would be gone by then but, for now, it was neat to think he’d be Evan’s actual teacher someday.

Evan was so busy with his new life, with having adults who were paying attention to him, that he didn’t think much about the stones anymore. The only time he’d thought much on it was when his psychologist wanted him to talk about the vision from the first stone.

That was yucky, but it wasn’t really about the stones; it was about what he’d seen. She’d gotten him to realize that everything he saw in the visions was processed through the lens of his five-year-old eyes. So, it was important that he talk about what he saw in the visions, and then they worked through how he’d interpreted what he’d seen, and then how he felt about it.

It was exhausting. Adult stuff sucked.

Grandma said it was good for him to get those bad things out of his head, to process them in healthy ways, but it sure felt yucky at the time.

By August, he wasn’t even having to talk much about that anymore. His parents had said or done something to annoy the judge so badly that permanent legal and physical custody—Evan didn’t really understand the distinction between those—was given to Bethany and Paul Buckley.

He overheard his grandparents talking, so he knew his parents were continuing to fight the criminal charges, but they weren’t fighting the custody change.

That hurt even though he didn’t want to live with them ever again. He’d always known they didn’t care, but the proof of them giving up on him was hard to deal with.

So, he wound up with something else to talk to his psychologist about.

Maddie occasionally called. Grandpa would get too frustrated talking to her, then pass the phone to Grandma, who would take the call in the den. Evan never talked to her again all summer.

It was a lot of changes, and they were good changes. He was happy, and he loved his grandparents. Some of the changes made him sad, but he thought they were still good.

He missed Maddie, though.

* * *

Evan bounced along next to his grandmother, wanting to run ahead, knowing it would stress her out if he did.

She laughed at him. “Do you want to push the cart?”

He grinned and nodded.

She swapped places with him. “Just don’t get ahead of me.”

“‘Kay!”

School started in a week, so Grandma was taking him shopping. He was nervous about a new school but eager to have something more to do with his days. They already had his school supplies, so they were finishing the trip with whatever groceries Grandma wanted.

His mother shopped no more than once a week, sometimes twice a month, but Grandma went to the store two or three times a week for her meats and produce. Evan thought it was fun to go and pick out the food you planned to prepare rather than finding something to make from whatever you had on hand.

It was always weird shopping with his grandparents. His mother acted like everyone should respect her, even if she didn’t know them, but everyone in Carlisle seemed to actually respect his grandparents. Most shopkeepers recognized them and even addressed them by name. Grandpa was polite to everyone, but Grandma tried to learn people’s names and special things about them.

“Good morning, Mrs. Buckley,” the manager of the seafood counter called out.

“Good morning, John. How are your two girls? Both in high school now, yes?”

“Indeed, ma’am. They’re eager for cheer tryouts. They’re running my ear off about it. Morning, Evan.” He smiled genuinely, his elbows resting on the counter.

“Morning, sir.”

“Looking forward to your new school?”

“Yep!”

“Meredith, the store manager, has a boy a year above you, so if you need any help getting around, just let us know, okay?”

“Oh. Okay, thank you.”

“Great. So, what can I get for the Buckleys today?”

“What looked good to you?” Grandma asked.

“Our freshest is the striped bass and the red snapper. I’d recommend the snapper, personally.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have. You’ve never steered me wrong.”

“Enough for three?”

“Enough for six, we’ll have it twice.” She ruffled his hair. “Different preparations, so don’t worry, Mr. Gets Bored Easily.”

He blew a raspberry. “Grandma. I’ll eat whatever you put on the table.”

“I know, sweetie.” She accepted the wrapped packages of fresh fish and nudged him to push the cart. “Let’s finish our shopping.”

They were on the last aisle, grabbing the peanut butter they’d forgotten earlier, because Grandma was always surprised at how much peanut butter Evan could put away, when he felt it.

The heavy feeling in the air, the swirl of fate energy winding around him.

He stepped back from the cart and held out his hand just as the stone plopped into it. Unlike landing on the floor, where it had made a thunk, landing in his hand was silent. His mind told him it was a plop, but there was really no noise at all. As if it were meant to be caught.

Grandma sucked in a sharp breath and stared at him as he clutched the stone in his hand.

He stared into her eyes, saying nothing, feeling the stone pulse, wondering if this would change anything for his grandparents. Still…he had to do it. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his thumb over the stone, feeling several lines going one way, and a thick line crossing them.

It was a simple vision, an easy thing to do, but he had to do it now.

He darted around the corner and two aisles over, ignoring his grandmother’s call of, “Evan!”

The woman he was looking for was on the same aisle where they’d passed her earlier. She was still looking at the spices, picking up different brands of the same herb, and comparing them.

She gave him a startled look as he stopped in front of her.

He held out the stone, and her mouth fell open. “Don’t sign the papers.”

Her mouth snapped shut, and she stared at the stone unblinking for the longest time.

Grandma was there, hovering in the background, but she didn’t say anything.

The woman’s gaze flicked to his face. “What did you see?”

“Just don’t sign. Call your brother instead.”

“I…haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Can it hurt to call him before you sign?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t,” she said slowly. “He’s an attorney.”

“They’re good at reading papers,” Evan said with a serious nod.

She laughed, and it sounded brittle. She was easily his grandmother’s age—his grandmother was older than she probably should be, considering his own age, but they’d had their only child late in life, so they were nearing retirement already.

He didn’t even fully understand what he saw in the vision. Fate energy continued to pulse because whatever choice she needed to make, she hadn’t made it yet.

Part of his counseling had been that he needed to be prepared to deliver Fate’s message and then walk away. He might be called to be an intercessor, but he was not Fate’s enforcer. He couldn’t always see Fate’s will all the way through, and people had the right to deny Fate if they so chose.

When she continued to stare, he handed her the stone. “You have a choice, but you matter. Enough that Fate is trying to stop something really wrong from happening. The energy in the stone is still strong, so your brother should be able to see the vision. I hope everything turns out okay for you.”

He bit his lip and turned away.

As soon as they were around the corner, Grandma pulled him into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t convince her.”

“It’s not your job to convince, sweetie. You’re a messenger, and you delivered a message. She’s old enough to know how to listen.”

He nodded against her shoulder.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

“Okay.”

When they were in the car, he asked, “Grandma, why doesn’t Fate stop all the bad things?”

“Fate isn’t the same thing as a god, baby. The idea is that there’s a design for someone’s life, and if it goes too off course, Fate will intervene. That’s simplistic, of course, and Fate scholars will tell you it’s more involved.”

“It would have to be, right? Because that means things like illnesses and murder are part of the design.”

“The design is more in the way we’re connected to one another and connected to the universe, I think. We don’t know why she was chosen, for instance. Is it about stopping one bad thing from happening, or is it about protecting the pattern that’s supposed to be woven next week? When one person’s suffering is stopped and another person’s is not, it feels like Fate cares about one person and not another, but I think it’s more that Fate is protecting the design, and this person being saved is important to an interconnected future, and another person may not be.”

“That…feels terrible.”

“I suppose, but it’s a matter of perspective. If it’s true, it does show that Fate is intervening in matters of how we relate as people rather than how we exist individually.”

“When I give them the stones, I tell them they matter. Am I lying?”

“Don’t they, in fact, matter? In some fashion, they matter in Fate’s design. You’re looking at it from the perspective of an individual who is being told they’re not being saved for themselves but, rather, how they relate to another person. But fixing the suffering of our society isn’t the role of Fate. Fate has put us all on a path, but we all have choices and free will. Including the choice to help one another. We have the power to stop people from suffering.” She glanced over at him. “Something is still bothering you?”

“It’s like Fate is saying, ‘your suffering matters because of the pattern, but it’s okay that this other person suffers because they aren’t messing up the pattern.’”

“That’s one way to phrase it. I think of it more like some people can endure great hardships and still make an entire destiny out of what Fate’s given them. They’ll never have an intercessor because nothing they endure takes them from their place in the universe. Others can be misled or pulled astray or…any number of things.”

“Tommy?”

“Tommy’s role might be indirect. For all we know, if something happened to Tommy, it might have negatively affected his uncle, who has a vital role to play at some point. Our fates don’t exist in isolation. And sometimes you’ll save the person in front of you so they can say the right thing on the right day to the person Fate really needed to save.”

“It’s so confusing.”

“I know, and even fate scholars argue about it. Even once they can see the ripples of what an intercession did, which sometimes takes decades, they still disagree about what Fate was trying to accomplish with the nature of the intercession. The point is, you can’t think of Fate as a deity watching over people individually and taking care of them. Fate is more like a crafter, who has a design they must build, and they’re identifying weak spots. When they find one, they send someone to shore it up. If the weak spot can’t be fixed—or, in this case, the weak spot doesn’t want to be fixed—the crafter must figure out how to bypass that section.”

“It seems so cold. Does anyone really matter, then?”

“You’re seeing it from your perspective. To the crafter, that spot working the way it’s supposed to very much matters. In terms of your interaction with these people, they matter to you. You’re not lying, Evan. I don’t think it’s cruel or insulting to say, ‘you’re part of Fate’s design, but you need help to stay on the path.’”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Think of fate as something beautiful, afforded to each of us, and within it, we have the ability to take up that fate, and craft our destiny from it, or leave it behind. If we leave it behind, Fate may have to figure out how to weave us out of the bigger picture. All the lives of every person to ever exist have the potential to be joined together in a cosmic tapestry, and Fate’s job is to make that tapestry. What matters to us as threads in that weaving is going to differ greatly from what matters to the weaver. It may seem unbalanced and unfair at times, but it helps to remember that no matter how much we might like to, we’ll never be able to truly understand matters of Fate.”

* * *

“Evan,” Grandpa said from the doorway of his room. Evan was already in bed, reading in low light to try to calm his mind.

“Hey, Grandpa.”

“Beth is on the phone with a Mr. Haslip.”

“Who?”

“He’s the brother of a woman you met in the grocery store three days ago…?”

“Oh. Is the lady okay?”

“Yes. Through a convoluted series of events, the store manager got in touch with us in order to give us his phone number because he wanted to relay to you what had happened. Your grandmother is coordinating some additional assistance for them now.”

Evan sat up in bed. “Is something wrong?”

“The woman was going to move into a senior citizen’s community here in Carlisle. The paperwork you saw her signing was her residency forms. It’s apparently a scam. I won’t give you all the details, because I think you’re too young to hear it, but the papers are basically a lie where she signs legal authority of herself over to his group and then winds up in a care home rather than a senior living facility.”

Evan was now able to make sense of other odd flashes from the vision. “And they steal all her money and stuff, right?”

“Yes. That’s what they do. They rob seniors of all their investments and basically keep them in this home.”

“Imprison them, you mean,” Evan corrected indignantly.

Grandpa sighed. “Yes. Mr. Haslip has been working with the authorities, and many, many arrests have already been made. He’s very grateful that you went to her and encouraged her to call him. They’ve been estranged for years—for reasons that really don’t need to go to ears as young as yours.”

Evan sighed. “Because he’s gay.”

Grandpa huffed. “Those stones need an age filter.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. She had a hard time accepting it when they were younger, and then by the time they got older and she could accept she was wrong, she didn’t know how to bridge the gap.”

“Meaning, she didn’t know how to apologize…?”

“Are you always this snarky at night?”

He sighed. “I’m always this snarky about nice old people being robbed and kept prisoner.”

“Right. Well, Beth is working to transfer funds to a charity account to secure temporary housing and actual nursing care for these people while the authorities sort things out. It’s a mess, but there’s nothing here for you to worry about, okay? You did your part, and Mr. Haslip just wanted to say thank you.”

Evan huffed and flopped back on his pillows.

“Want some hot cocoa?”

He threw back his covers and darted out of bed.

* * *

Two nights before Evan was to start his new school year, he was having a quiet evening with his grandparents after a hectic day of back-to-school prep. He enjoyed the family evenings they had where they sat around after dinner. Sometimes they each did their own thing, sometimes they did something as a group, but they always occupied the same room. He could hear other people breathing and shifting around; it was comforting not to feel alone.

Lately, every evening, Grandma indulged him with a brief update about the elderly people who’d been freed from the fake senior living facility. She wouldn’t tell him too much—just enough to let him know they were being taken care of and would have good lives now. Grandma promised.

The Buckleys had a big house, but they occupied only a few rooms regularly. The family living room was Evan’s favorite since it felt like family. There was a formal living room, but he liked that guests weren’t welcome in this room. This room was for them to be comfortable and be themselves.

Grandpa and Grandma were watching the news at low volume while playing backgammon and swearing at one another with just their eyes. Smiling, Evan sat at the end of the couch, playing quietly on his Game Boy, completely ignoring the TV since the local news channel was booor-ring.

The dice hitting the floor caught his attention, and he realized both his grandparents were staring at the TV, expressions pinched. The bar at the bottom said something about a tour bus crash.

Grandpa grabbed the remote and turned it up, listening to the news report about a bus transporting a group returning from a month-long vacation in New York. The bus had gone through a fence at a scenic lookout and down a ravine.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked. “Did you know someone on the bus?”

Grandma finally nodded, gesturing for him to come closer.

He stood by her chair, and she wrapped an arm around him, free even now with her hugs the way she always was.

“We had friends on that trip,” she said softly, still staring at the screen.

“We were supposed to be with them,” Grandpa added, his expression stiff like stone.

Evan’s eyes went wide. “You were supposed to be in New York?”

“The month of August,” Grandpa confirmed. “Our friends from the club…. We go every year. We decided to stay here. We could have taken you with us, but with all the things going on, we figured there’d be other opportunities to take you to the Hamptons.”

The TV was saying rescue crews were projecting there to be no survivors.

Evan’s eyes filled with tears. “Grandma…” He wasn’t even sure why he was upset. He’d never even met those people.

It was Grandpa who pulled him into his arms and hugged him with all his might. “It’s okay, Evan. We’re here, and we’re staying with you. Take some deep breaths. We’ll be all right.”

He held on as tight as he could, vowing not to lose this.

* * *

The next morning, Evan noticed his grandparents were up earlier than usual. They both looked tired as they held hands across the corner of the table where they sat.

“Did you sleep?”

“A little,” Grandma replied. “But we had a lot of phone calls to make. Sit. I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“I’ll get it.” Evan gently pushed her back in her seat. “Cereal isn’t rocket science, Grams. I can manage.”

She chuckled and let him go.

When he came back, he ate as quietly as he could and observed them. They seemed to be holding something clutched in their hands. He was curious, but he didn’t want to bother them with anything yet.

“You excited to start school tomorrow?” Grandpa asked, but the question sounded forced.

Evan shrugged his shoulders. “It’s school. It’ll be nice to go back, I guess. Worried about you two.”

“We’ll be fine, Evan,” Grandpa assured. “We’re going to spend the day tomorrow helping out with whatever arrangements need to be made. There will be funerals in the near future.” He paused. “You won’t have to go if you don’t want to. There are a few people who’ve offered to let you come stay with them for the day if you don’t want to go to the funeral.”

Evan swallowed his cereal before speaking because Grandma really valued good table manners. “I’ll go. If they were your friends, I want to be with you.” He considered a second. “I don’t think I have anything to wear, though, and I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You could never embarrass us,” Grandma promised, “but I know your sizes. I’ll order you something appropriate,” She pulled one hand away from Grandpa, and something glinted red in the light between their clasped hands as she reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you for coming with us, honey. We appreciate it.”

He nodded, staring at their hands. “What’s that?”

His grandparents shared a look. “Have you ever seen someone’s soul stones?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. It’s supposed to be really rude to ask about that.” His cheeks felt hot with embarrassment.

Grandpa chuckled. “It’s not rude if we’re holding them right in front of you, Evan. And it’s especially not rude if we offer.”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve only seen the pictures in books.” When two people met whose souls were connected by fate in prior lives met, Fate would gift them with two identical, unfinished stones that looked more like rocks. The stones would shape and shift throughout their lives together. The end of their life together left behind what were usually called the journey stones.

Grandma and Grandpa opened their hands at the same time, revealing two huge many-faceted rubies. They were oddly shaped for a decorative gem, in the sense that they were kind of rectangular and rather flat, but they were huge. Easily as big as Grandpa’s thumb.

Grandma passed one over to him, holding it out like he was supposed to take it.

“Grandma,” Evan whispered, scandalized.

“It’s not rude if I offer.”

Biting his lip, he cautiously took the stone in his hand. It was warmer than it should be, even accounting for the fact that they’d been holding it. Once it was in contact with his skin, he concentrated on how it felt. “I feel the fate energy on it now that I’m touching it,” he whispered.

“Yes. It’s a lovely feeling,” Grandma confirmed. “We hold them clasped in our hands like that sometimes and let the energy flow, knowing we’re meant to be. But there’s always…” She ran his finger over one edge where there was a slight dip. “Feel that?”

“Yes.”

“Paul’s doesn’t have that. It’s the only difference between them that we’ve ever found. We always have free will, Evan. As much as a couple is in sync about their life together as a unit, so will their stones be.”

“The pictures show they start really raw.”

“Ours landed in front of us looking like reddish rocks,” Grandpa confirmed. “You commit to a life together, and then the work begins. The crafting stage of the stones symbolizes how much work it takes to craft a relationship. Just because your souls have journeyed through life before and will do so again doesn’t mean it’s not an effort. The stones shape themselves through your commitment to compromise, listen, and be as one.”

Evan frowned, trying to figure out the meaning. “Some of the stones in books are very different—they don’t look at all alike.”

“Couples can’t always walk the same path,” Grandpa said, looking off in the distance. “I don’t mean jobs or where they even live. It’s about life choices and agreeing on what matters.

“The most famous soul stones in a museum are the ones in Rome that they believe belonged to Alexander the Great and Hephaestion, yes?”

Evan nodded. “I remember those. The huge opals that were half done. It felt sad because the halves that had shaped themselves were very different looking, until you looked closer and saw all the identical etchings.”

“Yes. Historians believe this is because Alexander and Hephaestion disagreed many times about the course Alexander was taking. Standing by your soulmate’s side isn’t the same thing as truly committing to the course yourself. Whoever those stones belonged to, it’s clear there were times they were in great harmony, but more times that they were not. It’s also clear they died young, leaving their stones half complete. It takes about thirty to forty years together to complete the crafting of the journey stones, perhaps less if you spend a lot of actual physical time together.”

“Yours are beautiful,” Evan whispered.

“Thank you,” Grandma said.

He wanted to ask about the divot, but he didn’t want to pry.

Grandma slid her finger over the little difference. “We disagreed about Philip, and how to handle him cutting us out of his life. It’s difficult because he’s our son, but he’s letting himself be influenced too much. We eventually found a compromise, but it led us to accede to his wishes to stay away. We both wish we’d found another way to still manage our own path while taking better care of you.”

Evan shook his head. “No, Grandma, this was important.”

“You are important, Evan.” She clasped his hands. “Something can be imperfect and still be stunningly beautiful. We don’t regret the slight difference in our stones. It reminds us to center what’s truly important.” She patted his cheek. “We can walk a path together that includes you.”

He smiled at her and handed the beautiful ruby back, and she slid it into her pocket.

“I always carry it. Most fated couples do. It helps the crafting if the stone is with you always.”

Evan frowned. “Don’t you worry about it being stolen?”

Grandma shook her head. “I forget how the sensibilities of the modern education system have changed. We learned about this sort of thing in first grade when I was in school, but you won’t learn about it until high school. Not officially anyway—some parent on a school board said it was too gruesome to tell little kids, and the idea took legs.”

She tapped her pocket. “Technically, the blobs that drop down in front of couples, straight from Fate, are soul stones. It has no value. If you and your partner don’t commit to one another within a year, the rocks turn to dust. They can’t be stolen from you; Fate returns them right back to your hand, so people don’t even try to take them. Why risk a twenty-year jail sentence to steal something that will just disappear from your hand within a few hours?

“Anyway, once the crafting begins, which is just living your life together, they become journey stones. While the couple lives, those also have no value. The only value is in a journeys-end stone. When the fate energy fades, what’s left is the record of a fated pair’s walk through this world. Those can be worth a fortune. Many a crown jewel has journeys-end stones set in them if a royal family was fortunate enough to have a fated pair in their lineage. Though I believe most journeys-end stones wind up in private vaults, hoarded away by family, and are rarely, if ever, seen again.” Grandma’s nose wrinkled up at that idea.

Grandpa gave him a serious look. “I think you’re old enough to hear this. A long time ago, it occurred to someone that they could make easy money by circumventing Fate’s protections on the stones and killing the bearer, rendering the magic null.”

Evan pressed his hand to his mouth, feeling horrified.

“It does work, after a fashion. It will render the fate protections on the stone void; however, Fate will strike down the killer. There are historical accounts of people trying in case the first time was a fluke. It wasn’t.”

“How does Fate go about killing someone?”

“How does Fate communicate with us?”

“Through the…. Oh.” Evan grimaced. “Really?”

Grandpa nodded. “It was a barrage, and historical accounts say it was gruesome. High schools are encouraged to educate young people about these sorts of things in their first year so that they don’t do something foolish enough to get them in the path of Fate’s Justice, because Fate will be merciless. And Fate doesn’t care if you’re a legal adult. If a teenager kills the bearer of a journey stone with the intention of stealing it, Fate will exact Justice the same way it would on an adult.”

“Oh my god. That’s horrible, though I think waiting for high school for that lesson is a bad idea. Still, I don’t think you’re allowed to tell me breakfast stories ever again.”

Grandpa laughed. “I’ve seen some of the games you play.”

Evan made a face, then considered the stones again. “So, you’re safe?”

“We’re safe,” Grandpa assured. “Nothing about the stones can bring us harm while we live. As long as our deaths aren’t tied to the stones, after we pass, they’ll be quite valuable.” He gave Evan a speaking look. “And they’ll be yours to do with as you please.”

“Me?”

“Who else?” Grandma said with a huff. “You think we’d give them to Philip and Margaret?”

“Why not give them to a museum or something?”

Grandpa made a humming noise. “Why a museum?”

“I don’t know…. I’m not sure what people are supposed to do with journey stones after their loved ones are gone, but Fate let them be a reflection of a beautiful life lived together. Whether they’re identical or not, they’re lovely. How would sticking them in a vault in the dark be honoring that beauty? Look at all the emotions we feel from just thinking we’ve seen Alexander the Great and Hephaestion’s journey stones.”

Grandma patted his hand. “When the time comes, you’ll figure it out. If you want to throw them in the ocean, plant them in the ground, put them in a fancy hat, or display them in a museum, it’s up to you, darling. I trust your heart in this matter.”

“Grandma,” Evan mumbled into his empty cereal bowl, feeling embarrassed. The idea of putting them in jewelry to display them as a status symbol felt gross.

“I know; it’s terrible being a decent human being.”

“No, it’s terrible having your grandmother point it out all the time.”

“Your life is hard. Come hug me, sweet boy. I’m a little sad today.”

He readily sprang out of his chair and curled his arms around her, glad for anything he could do to help. He thought of the beauty of the life his grandparents had lived together, how much they loved each other, and how much they loved him.

“Thanks for showing me.”

Grandpa patted him on the back as he got to his feet. “Anytime, Evan. There’s only small crafting left to do on our stones, and just in case you were wondering, there were no deviations between them when you came to live with us. We were always in complete harmony about you.”

Evan felt his cheeks heat with pleasure. “Love you too, Grandpa.”

* * *

Maddie had come for Thanksgiving dinner, and Evan was so excited to have his sister around again. She’d apparently been having many conversations with Grandma, and his grandparents felt it was finally time for her to attend a family event.

She smiled and regaled them with stories about college, asked about Evan’s new school, and seemed interested in what Grandma and Grandpa were up to with their businesses and charity work. Grandma and Grandpa liked to keep charity close to home, so it was mainly in Carlisle and Harrisburg, but they also supported a few charities at the state level.

Evan had learned how to read Grandpa pretty well, and he could tell Paul Buckley wasn’t thrilled that Maddie had changed her degree program. He sounded upbeat and supportive, but his body language and his tone were not right.

What was wrong with nursing?

When Grandma went to get dessert, Evan slipped in to help her, leaving Grandpa and Maddie in the formal dining room. There was something about the fact that they were even in the formal dining room that seemed strange. It was just Maddie, after all. Maybe Grandma just wanted to do a fancy dinner.

Evan got the plates out and fiddled with the forks before asking, “Why does Grandpa disapprove of Maddie being a nurse?”

Grandma raised a brow. “Does he?”

“His tone was…funny.”

“Hmm.” She sliced the pie and then leaned on the counter rather than serving it. “It’s not the degree program, Evan. All we want for either of you is that you are happy in whatever you choose to do in life. It’s why she’s changed her degree.”

He pondered that while Grandma plated the pumpkin pie, getting it pretty the way she liked it before arranging it on a serving tray.

“Did she not do it for herself?” he asked.

“What do you think?”

He hesitated. “It sounded a little like her boyfriend suggested it…? Maybe?”

“Mm. I agree. We’re not going to argue with her over dinner, and it’s not your problem to solve, baby, but we’re going to talk to her in private. We want to be sure it’s a choice she’s making because she actually thinks it’s a good idea of her own accord rather than letting him think for her.”

He scrunched up his nose. “So, I shouldn’t say anything?”

“I don’t want to micromanage your relationship with your sister, Evan, but consider how she’s likely to take any interference in her education or relationship.”

“Not well,” he said emphatically.

“And then make your choice about what you say to her.”

“I guess I’ll leave it to you and Grandpa.”

“Adults do have their uses,” she said with a wink.

“Grams,” he said with a sigh.

She ruffled his hair. “You’re so grown up sometimes, and I know you want to take on more and more responsibilities, but let yourself enjoy life, sweetheart. There’s no need to take care of your sister. We’ve got this.”

“Okay.”

* * *

It was a nice Thanksgiving; there was no snow yet, and the weather wasn’t so cold that you needed more than a light jacket.

He and Maddie were able to walk around the backyard and sit on the old wooden swings as the sun was just starting to set. He was too full of all that pie to want to be still yet, so the swings were nice.

Mostly Maddie did the talking, telling him all about college and how happy she was. It was nice to see her, so he didn’t try to interrupt, though it stung that she was so happy, considering she never saw him anymore. She was completely happy without him around. At least, it seemed that way to him.

Then she hesitated in her idle pushing of her swing and looked back toward the big Buckley family home, the lights burning warmly through the big windows. “You must miss home.”

He frowned. “I am home.”

“I meant home in Hershey.”

“This is my home, Maddie,” he said firmly.

“Evan.”

“No. Grandma and Grandpa have permanent custody. I live here now.”

“Don’t you miss Mom and Dad at all? Don’t you think you owe them any loyalty? And I’d see you more if you were back in Hershey.”

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open. “No, I don’t miss them,” he finally snapped. “And I never saw you anyway. What is it that you really want?”

“Mom and Dad are close to making a deal with the prosecutor, Evan. They’re going to have three years of probation at least, and that doesn’t seem right, does it? You weren’t hurt.”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?” He had a sick feeling rising up in his stomach, making him regret eating that second piece of pie. “It’s not like I’m pressing charges or anything.”

“No, I know that,” she said, sounding like she was trying to calm an angry dog. “But you could talk to people and tell them how much you miss them and want to come home. They’d lighten—”

“But I don’t!” he yelled. “I don’t miss them! You just want me to lie, and I don’t even know why! I don’t miss being alone all the time, and I don’t miss being ignored and made to feel like I didn’t belong and wasn’t wanted. I don’t miss it. I don’t want it, and I’d rather run away than go back! I’m not going to lie to the judge for you, and I don’t even know why you care!” He realized he was crying. “You ran away as fast as you could and barely looked back!”

She looked pale and shaken, and it took her a long time to respond. “It’ll be a f-felony conviction, an-and,” she stuttered out.

“I don’t care! You can’t make me care! And it’s rotten of you to say you’d be around more if I’d lie to the judge for them, when we both know that’s just another big lie!”

She was on her feet, reaching for him. “I’m sorry, Evan, I just wanted to—”

He jerked away from her, falling backward off the swing, landing hard on the ground and getting the breath knocked out of him.

“Evan!” Grandma’s voice came from across the yard, and he could tell she was running toward him.

“I’m fine.” But he was crying, not from his body being hurt but from his feelings aching in every part of his entire being. Then Grandma was holding him, and he fully burst into sobs. “It’s not my fault they’re in trouble. It’s not my fault!”

“Oh god, no, sweetie. It’s not your fault. Never your fault.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “You’ve got a cut, darling. Even if you don’t feel it now, you may need a few stitches.”

“Madeline, you need to go,” Grandpa said sternly.

“I just wanted to—”

“No. We can discuss it in the den, but you’ll need to leave afterward. We had an agreement, and you swore to me that you wouldn’t discuss Philip and Margaret with Evan, yet you broke that promise. Let’s go inside.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Philip is my son, Madeline. I think it’s you who lacks comprehension, not to mention compassion. Now, we can go inside and talk, or you can leave now.”

Maddie and Grandpa disappeared into the house, and Grandma kept kneeling on the grass, hugging Evan, promising him it wasn’t his fault his parents were in trouble.

Eventually, he calmed enough to hear what she was saying. Then Grandpa took them to urgent care to get three stitches near his hairline. Grandpa was mad, but he kept Evan held tight to his side the entire time, so Evan never thought for a second that the anger was directed at him. Grandma held his hand and kept reminding him that none of it was his fault.

Every day, he was closer to completely believing it.

He didn’t hear from Maddie of her own volition for a while after that. She wasn’t invited back to the family home—first because of her lying to Grandpa and later because of her boyfriend, who Grandma refused to have in her presence.

* * *

Philip and Margaret accepted a plea deal that included three years of probation and no contact with Evan until he was eighteen. Apparently, they were selling their home in Hershey and moving to Pittsburgh.

Evan listened to the news and nodded, accepting the judge’s decision that he wouldn’t have to see his parents again while he was a minor.

In the next breath, his grandparents asked if they could legally adopt him.

He forgot all about Philip and Margaret in his excitement and eagerness to say yes. It was like the last ugly bits of his life in Hershey slid away.

Soon, he was legally adopted by Paul and Bethany. At his own request, his middle name was changed to Paul. Evan Paul Buckley. In one small way, it wasn’t easy. He’d been informed that Daniel had chosen his first name, while Maddie had chosen his middle name. On the surface, it could seem like he was throwing away the part Maddie had chosen, but it wasn’t like that on an emotional level. He had no association with his middle name, and he wanted the connection to his grandfather. If Maddie ever found out or took offense to it, Grandma said Maddie would have to figure out how to deal with her feelings on her own time because it wasn’t her name, and it wasn’t about her.

His first Christmas with no contact with his parents or sister came and went. Despite the heartache of the necessity of that particular change, it was still one of the happiest he could ever remember. He was legally Paul and Bethany’s adopted son, though he still called them his grandparents.

He had presents from them, but those paled in comparison to feeling loved and safe, and he realized he’d never truly had that before. Maddie had always been his touchstone when it came to feeling loved, but he didn’t think he’d ever felt truly safe before. And his metrics for what love felt like were evolving as time passed with his new family.

He had friends, he was well-adjusted at school, but the center of his universe was his grandparents.

One day at school, a boy called him a grandma’s boy. After an astonished silence, he laughed in the would-be bully’s face and said, “I think you mean grandparents’ boy.”

Evan was unashamed of his devotion to his grandparents, and he hoped getting older didn’t change that one bit.

He graduated fourth grade with straight A’s. Mr. Tomlinson had done a great job helping Evan with coping strategies for his ADHD, and it showed in his schoolwork.

His grandparents gave him a choice for his tenth birthday: a big party and a camping excursion with his friends, or going with Paul and Bethany to Europe in August. He chose Europe. Duh. They seemed to really think he’d rather be with his friends, but he’d rather be with them.

Besides, August was when they used to always go to the Hamptons. Maybe someday they would again, but he knew it was still too painful for them this year, and they needed something new to do.

* * *

“What was your favorite city?” Mr. Tomlinson asked as he began going through Evan’s tutoring assignments. School started in a week, and Mr. Tomlinson had given him some assignments to do over the summer to improve his math skills and help determine where they should focus next year.

Evan sprawled out in his chair under Grandma’s big sunshade. “I guess Florence. I dunno for sure. It was all pretty great—particularly the cities in Italy. Everything has a story there, you know? Almost every street and every building has history. And people seemed to know the stories and were eager to talk about them. I liked Rome for the architecture, but it was so crowded.”

Mr. Tomlinson nodded. “What was your favorite part of Florence?”

Evan flushed. “The Fate Wall.”

“I wondered if that would appeal to you.”

“Yeah. Well…” He shrugged. In most countries, people kept their fate stones their whole lives, whether they were the blessed or the intercessor. However, some people threw them away.

But then there became the issue of what happened to the stones after their possessor’s death? It was this weird thing that had no right moral answer, and often no real legal answer either. In most cultures, it was considered taboo to sell them. Some cultures strongly advocated throwing them into the ocean or burying them in the ground, which seemed to align with whether it was a coastal city or not.

In the US, there started to be a problem with people donating fate stones to charities like Goodwill or Salvation Army. But what were the charities supposed to do with a bunch of rocks, which were taboo to sell, that they couldn’t easily get rid of? They’d been largely turned over to the government to handle, and most were dumped in the ocean in large batches.

The government kept encouraging people to bury their fate stones in their own yard, please, as a method of management after a loved one’s death, yet people kept struggling with that. So, they dropped them off at local donation stations with their beloved’s old dresses and musty books. Goodwill workers routinely pulled fate stones from the bottom of donation bags, and then the company had to turn over literal tons of stones every year for disposal.

One company in the 70s found that it was legal to grind them up and make paving stones out of them, inspired by something done in Italy, but they would come to find out that legal did not mean moral. The problem was the grinding. People were so put off by the company’s product, called, unoriginally, Fate’s Pavers, that the company very quickly went out of business. No other company had taken up the idea that it was okay to grind fate stones into building materials.

In some parts of the world, however, particularly Italy, it was quite common for fate stones to be incorporated into their architecture. There was a whole street in Rome paved with them before the common era, and neither carriage nor vehicle had ever been allowed on it. You were only allowed to walk on it, and never with muddy boots.

It was also common to see a fate stone or two alongside the bricks or nestled into the hollow of a stone slab. Sometimes there were stories of the intervention that had been made, chiseled or cast on a nearby plaque, but mostly it was just a mystery lost to time.

Florence had the Fate Wall, where people would bring the stones they considered precious and ask the city builders to incorporate them into the wall. The wall was ever-growing, lovingly repaired, and twisted about aimlessly in places, often serving no real purpose. Sometimes it was so low that it served more as a bench for those who needed a place to rest. There were those in Florence who knew precisely where certain stones that were precious to their family history were located and would visit and touch them regularly. He found the whole experience of visiting the weirdly winding wall to be touching and somehow invigorating.

“Yeah, I liked the wall. I sat on it where it was low, and it was like…being connected to everything. People would come and tell stories of a loved one’s fate. It was cool.”

Mr. Tomlinson smiled and nodded. “I’ve been. It feels like a place where we all belong. Where we all connect.”

Evan smiled, feeling like someone else got it.

Mr. T put Evan’s papers in a neat stack and sat back in his chair, giving Evan a considering look. “I assume you know you’re not actually bad at math.”

Evan laughed. “Yes. I know I’m actually doing high school math even though I’m only ten.”

“I figured you weren’t so unobservant you didn’t know, also you had to have noticed something when you were switched to an independent track for math because there’s no one in your school that can hang with you on the math front. I’ll grant that you actually did have some problems with fractions at first, but I’ll put that entirely down to how it was presented, and we solved that in a day.

“This,” he waved the papers Evan had given him, “was actually proof that you’re done with high school math.”

Evan blinked. “Um…”

“I’ve already talked to your grandparents about your academics overall. While I do think you could get a degree in applied mathematics, I think you lean more towards engineering. In any case, that’s not a decision you have to make today. You do have to start making some choices about your education, however.”

“I do?”

“Ultimately, this is a discussion for you and your grandparents, but they asked me to broach the topic with you to give you as unbiased a perspective as possible, and also answer any questions you might have.”

“Questions about what?”

“Well, starting off, my suggestion, and the suggestion of your school counselor, is to move you into the sixth grade when school begins.”

Evan stared for a few seconds. “Skip fifth?”

“Mm hm. You’re light-years ahead in math already, and you’re clearly shouldering the workload for your schooling with little effort. Your school would come up with a plan to accelerate the other core competencies needed to get you to early graduation. No one in your school can currently hang with you on the math front, so they’d take math out of your course lineup and let you do independent study to keep working on either college-level coursework that I assign you or work on backfilling the fifth-grade material you’ve skipped.”

“And then what?”

“If the year goes well, they’d probably do it again, and you’d go into eighth grade next year, repeating the process.”

“But why me?”

Mr. Tomlinson frowned. “Why not you? Your memory is exceptional, and your math ability is phenomenal. You were held back by apathy from your guardians and lack of proper management of your ADHD—none of those things were within your control. So, why shouldn’t you be allowed to move forward in school at a faster pace—if you want it?”

Evan frowned.

“The question isn’t ‘why you?’ The question is, do you want it? The opportunity is there, you’re certainly capable but, more than anything, what you wish is what matters.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should seize every opportunity that comes your way that you’re interested in. Only you can decide if finishing your education faster is one that interests you.” Mr. T cocked his head to the side. “What’s bothering you?”

“It feels like people would expect me to be some great academic, and I already know that’s not me. I can’t see myself sitting in an ivory tower, coming up with theories about things.”

Mr. Tomlinson laughed. “I’m pretty sure your grandparents have no such expectations of you, Evan. They just want you to be happy. They aren’t putting academic pressure on you, other than to go to college, because they don’t want you to think grades matter more than you do. So, no, they don’t think graduating high school early or going to college young is going to make you some sort of sweater-wearing cliché of an academic.”

“Would you think that?”

“You forget that I’ve met you.”

Evan snorted.

Mr. Tomlinson’s smile softened. “I think, perhaps more than most people, you’ll let Fate guide you to where you’re meant to be. If that’s in a think tank, so be it. But I somehow doubt it. Graduating early won’t hinder you, I don’t think, but if it doesn’t feel right to you, it doesn’t feel right. Only you can decide that part.”

Evan fiddled with the edge of the math book they’d been using last year. “Can I ask some more questions?”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

* * *

Evan skipped to the sixth grade. It was a lot of work up front, but he settled into the rhythm of it pretty easily, and he was almost caught up on his fifth-grade core work by the time the winter holidays rolled around.

Mr. Tomlinson continued to tutor him in math, but they weren’t pretending anymore that it was anything but higher math. They were at the point where it was becoming actual work, so the tutoring was going slower than it had been, and Evan actually enjoyed the challenge of spending more time on his schoolwork. It also forced him to work a little harder on managing his ADHD, and he threw track into his school program to help burn off more energy.

Right before Christmas—on December 23rd—while his grandparents were at a cocktail party, and he was with a bunch of kids from his current grade whose parents were acquainted with Paul or Bethany, he got another fate stone.

He’d woken up at midnight and was sitting on the fenced-in porch in the dark, wrapped in a blanket, watching it snow, when he’d felt the telltale thickening of the air and swirling of fate magic.

Reflexively, he held out his hand and the stone dropped into it, silent and soft, almost eerie. His thumb immediately traveled over the surface.

The vision was more indistinct than he’d had before, almost as if there were a veil over it. But he got enough to know what to do.

He slipped silently into Mrs. Crestview’s kitchen and picked up her cordless phone, dialing a number.

A sleepy voice answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Maddie? It’s Evan. I-I’m sorry I woke you.”

There was a pause. “No, it’s all right. I figure you wouldn’t be calling this late if you didn’t need something. Is everything all right?” It was the acceptance he was used to from Maddie, back when they were younger and he could count on her—before she went to college. Maybe the problems started before then. Maybe she’d had problems with their parents she’d never told him about and she was running away from them long before she actually left home.

“I’m not sure. It’s not about me, really. A fate stone landed in my hand a minute ago.”

She blew out a breath. “A fate stone, huh? This is your third one, right?”

It was way more than three, but he didn’t think that part mattered. “It was about you.”

“Ev…” She sighed. “I don’t really buy into following the whole will-of-Fate thing. Back when you were five, you were so excited to have helped that boy, and I know that was a good thing to assist him, don’t get me wrong, but we have to make our own way in the world. Make our own choices, right?”

“That’s why you’d never really talk to me much about me finding or getting those stones?”

“Well, the first one was a fluke, and I’d hoped the second was your lifetime allotment. So, what was there to talk about?”

“Grandma says sometimes Fate asks a lot of us, and it’s good to talk about it.”

“Grandmother Buckley isn’t all-knowing.”

He didn’t want to fight with her, but he really felt she was wrong, which was weird since he’d spent so much of his life thinking Maddie was right about everything.

“Maddie.” He didn’t even know what to say. He bit at his lips, trying to find the words to persuade someone who didn’t believe in fate. “He’s going to hurt you. You should leave.”

There was a long silence. “I’m going to go now, Evan.”

“You chose him,” he said in a hurry, “but you could still choose family, Mads. You could still choose something else. You could let us choose you, like we’re always ready to do, Maddie.”

“I love him, and he’s not going to hurt me. I don’t believe in fate, I don’t believe in pre-ordained destinies. I make my own way, thank you very much. If another stone drops in your hand for me, Evan, do us all a favor and throw it out the window.”

“Maddie, please. Don’t—”

“Goodbye, Evan.”

The line clicked as the fate magic on the stone went still and quiet. Fate had been satisfied—one way or the other.

He sat in the dark for a long time, holding the stone. Eventually, he slipped back into the room, managing not to wake anyone with his middle-of-the-night wandering.

His dreams were weird. Dreams about Maddie and himself. About a person who rejected fate and someone who believed in it being connected. Or maybe in the dream they were chained together. It was hard to put a pin in what his mind was trying to tell him, but it seemed like the pull of someone who rejected fate against someone who was trying to follow fate was a lot to bear.

He woke repeatedly, half alert, trying to shake off the images from the stone vision, trying to get out of the grip of the dreams. He’d slip back into sleep and right back to whatever his mind was trying to tell him.

In the morning, he woke with the stone still in his hand and realized there was only one line on it.

He stared at the stone for a long time, trying to make sense of it.

The stone hadn’t been for Maddie at all; it’d been for him.

Tucking it close to his chest, he wondered what it meant even as he felt little ties to his past break away.

The End

Series to be continued in Episode 2: Design