Ruth:

  “I’m sure you’re feeling a little overwhelmed. If you haven’t had anything to eat yet, go grab a bite—there’s plenty in the kitchen. Oh, and good job making Shoshana feel special.”

  Thomas (smiling shyly):

  “My understanding is, that’s how knights treat their lady—with respect.”

  Sholomoh (smirking):

  “You’ve still got a few things to learn… but yes, good job. She needed that. Oh—by the way, do you keep a journal?”

  Thomas:

  “Yeah, but not regularly.”

  Sholomoh:

  “Well, if you don’t have any homework to catch up on, I’d suggest heading up to your room. Settle in, check it out, and write down what’s happened today while it’s still fresh in your mind. If I know Meckelson, I’d bet he left you a fresh leather journal with your school supplies. You may not have seen it yet.”

  Thomas:

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  “I can do that.”

  Sholomoh:

  “Bring it with you on Thursday when you meet with Ms. Hendrix. It might help you work through everything that’s been going on.”

  Ruth:

  “We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

  ---

  [Thomas’s Journal – Sunday Night]

  So… this day. I’m still trying to figure out how all of this is even real.

  Less than a week ago, I was just trying to keep my head down and stay out of trouble. Now I’m sitting in a real bedroom—my room—in a house full of people who actually seem to want me here. I don’t know what to make of that. It’s… a lot.

  This family—Sholomoh, Ruth, David, even Veronica’s mom—they treat me like I’m already part of something. Not like I might belong, but like I do. And Shoshana… she looked at me tonight like she saw something good. I don’t know if I’ve ever had that before.

  I helped move in my own stuff (all three bags of it, pathetic), got teased like I was someone’s cousin, stood there while they made jokes and rules around me like it was all normal. And it felt normal. I didn’t expect that.

  Sholomoh said I should keep a journal, and apparently someone left me this one on purpose. (Thanks, Meckelson? Mysterious lodge guy moves silently and picks out leather journals?) Either way, I guess it’s not a bad idea. There’s too much going on to hold it all in my head.

  They’ve got rules—help out, stay on top of school, take care of myself, and apparently start prepping for these medallions. I still don’t know exactly what that means. But I nodded like I did, and now I guess I’m in it.

  Also, I’m supposed to bring this journal to my meeting with Ms. Hendrix. That makes it feel more like homework. But maybe it’ll help. I’m not used to anyone wanting to hear what I actually think.

  Anyway. I should sleep. Or at least lie down and pretend like my head’s not spinning.

  But I’m here. That’s something.

  —T