Heart of a Brother

“What was that noise?”

Marek opened his eyes in the darkness and held very still. The only thing he heard immediately was the half-panicked gasping from his bedroom floor and Steve’s soft snores beside him. “What noise?”

On the floor, Denny whimpered. “You didn’t hear it?”

“No.”

“Marek…”

He sighed and closed his eyes again, then shifted his hip sideways until he found Steve’s butt. “Scootch,” he growled and his friend made a faint sound in his throat before squirming closer to the edge of the bed. “Come on up, Itsy.” The bed sank and Marek lifted the blanket as Steve’s eight-year-old sister crawled up beside him. He wriggled and hugged her, rolling her into the narrow space between himself and Steve, who grunted in his sleep. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was like a scratching.” Denny’s fingers curled against his chest and she mimed a small animal digging. “Do you have mice?”

“Not that I know of.” Marek hugged her and stroked her back gently as the younger girl started to calm down again. “Maybe it was a dream?”

“Maybe.” Denny pushed her face against his chest and Marek smiled. She was as much his sister as Steve was his brother: no relation except the fullness of his parents’ love for kids half-abandoned by their own parents. “Thanks,” she whispered into the softness of his threadbare sleep shirt.

“Welcome,” he murmured back, still rubbing her back.

“Can I—”

“Of course. As long as you don’t care if Steve kicks you.”

“He does it when he’s awake anyway,” she giggled and Marek grinned.

“G’night, Itsy.”

“G’night, Marek.”

“G’night, John-boy!” announced Steve in a truly terrible Southern accent. Marek snorted and slammed his pillow over his friend’s head while Denny giggled.

Word Count: 290