Lucas blinked at me.

"Oh," she said knowingly. "He didn't tell you he slept on the bench outside your room last night, did he?"

"Hey," I said, as Lucas's eyes widened. "Just because I'm pissed off at you doesn't mean I don't care or anything."

"It's just...why?" Lucas asked.

"Don't make me slap you in the head," I said.

"Shall I give you some privacy?" Marjorie asked, grinning.

"We could bust you out right now," I said. "Marj has a car. I'll buy you some pants."

"Two things not often said in the same breath," Marjorie observed. Lucas bowed his head and I was reminded of Nameless again. I wondered how long his movements had been so doglike, or if it was just that Nameless himself was a particularly human dog.

"My parents are coming this afternoon," he said finally. "If I'm not here, they might worry."

"Mostly about the bill," I replied. He gave me a wounded look. "Oh, come on, Lucas. I'm not going to tell you that your parents screwed you up, but they certainly didn't help."

"All the best schools," Lucas murmured.

"Yeah, I was there for that conversation too."

"Is this some kind of code?" Marjorie asked, and Lucas and I looked at each other. "Clock's ticking, boys, and my crossword is waiting."

"I still need pants," Lucas said, looking distressed. Marjorie sighed and walked out the door. "Is she leaving – "

"She's going to go talk to the doctor," I said, peering through the half-open door. "She'll find you something."

"Where am I going to go?"

"Back to Low Ferry, with me, if you want. If you want to stay in the city, Marj can find you a place. Please come back with me," I added.

"Why? What good is it going to do?"

"What harm is it going to do? It'll make me happy."

He nodded, and almost smiled again, and that was when Marjorie appeared with a set of green hospital scrubs and the triumphant cry of "Pants!"

It took half an hour for Lucas to finish all the paperwork and sign himself out, looking over his shoulder every minute to see if his parents were coming. Not long after that, we found ourselves in Eighth Rare Books at Marjorie's table, huddled together and systematically destroying a box of fried chicken from the greasy snack shack around the corner. Lucas watched everyone who came near with a wary sort of suspicion, but nobody bothers those chosen souls who sit with Marj as she rules the literary world and thoroughly destroys the Trib crossword.

"Thank you, Marj," I said, around a mouthful of food. "I didn't really pack my wallet for a surprise trip to Chicago."

"My pleasure, Christopher," she said, ruffling my hair. "Do you two need money for the train?"

"I can send you a check."

"Let me buy you a train ticket. You save your money to buy one back to see me a little sooner than sometime-next-year."

"She's very generous," Lucas said in an undertone, as Marj turned to answer a question from a patron.

"She likes me," I replied. "You, she probably thinks you're weird."

"Well, I am," Lucas answered.

"Send her a mask. She'd love that," I told him. "Keep you busy, too."

"I'm not going to try again. I promise," he told me. I watched Marjorie wander off with her patron in search of whatever they wanted – if they even knew. One of the joys of a bookseller's life is knowing what someone wants to read before they do.

When we were finished eating, and during a lull in Marjorie's business day, she counted out more than enough money for two train tickets back to Low Ferry, tucked it into the pocket of a battered backpack, and slung the pack onto my shoulder.

"Books, for you," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "And some biscotti."

I gave her a tight hug while Lucas stood by awkwardly. When we were finished, he offered his hand, leaned in when Marjorie went to hug him, then back when she saw he had been ready to shake. The tips of his ears reddened with embarrassment as he stood very still and allowed her to hug him.

I imagine his parents found out about his disappearance while we were on the train that afternoon, but I've never found out and it would be difficult for me to care less about them than I do. We were quiet on the train, Lucas buried in one of Marj's books, me staring out the window at the landscape rolling past.

At some point, Lucas shifted so that his arm was tucked up against mine, the side of his head tilted onto my shoulder as he slowly turned the pages of the book.

When we arrived in Low Ferry, I left Lucas huddling against a wall to avoid the wind and went to find the payphone. I was only halfway there when I saw a car pull up – Charles's elderly four-wheel-drive, with Charles at the wheel and someone in the passenger's seat. I blinked at him and he blew his horn, so I gestured for Lucas to follow me down.

"Heard you were coming back in," he said, and I gaped as his companion jumped out and pulled open the back door – the boy, grinning and pointing for Lucas to take the front passenger's seat.