“The problem is feet.” Richards said. “We don’t have the feet or the hands.”

Richards was tapping on the desk with his pen. They were having yet another meeting. Eddie showed his boredom by doodling hearts all over Richards’ desk calendar, which the professor ignored.

They could almost, officially, open their doors. It was mid-November, and things had arrived at the point where all they needed now was to spread the word. That meant pamphlets and posters and Blue House propaganda all over campus. But although their college level ‘staff’ was at about twenty, most of them helped from a distance and weren’t actual physical presences.

“What you need are grunt workers. I am not the kind to hand out flyers. People might think I’m trying to convert them.” Eddie joked.

“Not helping Eddie. Any constructive suggestions?” Richards asked the assembly, which were the original faces: Chrissy, Bren, Madam and Jordy. They tried to get their brains engaged, but it was Friday evening at the end of a long wee

“Perhaps we could think about feet and other appendages when we are all better rested?” Eddie suggested, seeing the shadowy pouches under Christian’s eyes. But as he watched, said eyes ignited with inspiration.

“Hang on.” He said, and turned to Bren. “Didn’t you say Em helped out because of his social responsibility credit?”

Bren nodded. “Yeah.” Then his face changed with the hidden realisation. “Oh. Yeah!”

Christian turned to Cressida. The pale boy had been seeing the counsellor for almost a year now, and it was clear there was a fondness between them. “Cress, Em is here on a sports scholarship. But he has to rack up a certain amount of social responsibility hours if he wants to keep it. He can’t be the only one.”

“It’s true!” Jordan said. “A couple of guys on the team have to do that. But they go and pick up trash or do filing at the police station or something.” Laurel chimed in. “If we could somehow get volunteering for the Blue House project listed as a social responsibility credit …”

“Then you’d have all the feet you needed.” Eddie finished. He felt stupidly proud of their little group... He could see he wasn’t the only one who felt that way, since they were all looking at each other in a happy, congratulatory way. This was the seamlessness they had, the reason Eddie kept coming back to the apartment. Friendship that felt more familial than his actual family.

Cress beamed at them like they had performed a good trick. “That’s a fantastic idea. I should have thought of it ages ago, actually.”

Richards had a thin echo of Cress’ smile. Then as he watched her Eddie saw a flicker of a crack in his neutral demeanour. Aha, he thought. ‘Just friends’ his ass.

Eddie stood up with a long stretch that touched his palms flat against the ceiling. “Excellent. Now can we get out of here and enjoy our weekend? ”

“Amen to that.” Jordan said.

“Actually Eddie, could I keep you for a minute?” Cressida said, and Eddie’s shoulders slumped noticeably. The others moved past him. Eddie was, after all, the ringmaster in this show. “Eddie,” Cressida said, standing alone with him outside the Blue House. “I just wanted to say thank you. For helping us secure the funding for the project.”

Eddie was guarded but still managed a polite. “You are very much welcome, Cress.” He did like her after all, even if she was a shrink.

“I spoke to your mother myself, she was lovely. She made it clear they wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t asked them yourself.”

Eddie feigned confusion. “I’m sorry, but why are we talking about this? My parents love me, I love them, happy families etcetera.”

Cress wasn’t put off. “I just wanted… when I spoke to your mother, she seemed very proud. Very happy that you were doing this.” She watched as if hoping for some rewarding reaction.

Eddie wouldn’t cave. He only looked at her earnestly. “Yes, and?”

Cress gave up. “That’s all. Thank you Eddie.”

“Only a pleasure.” He said and spun on his heel, whistling as he walked briskly away.

-8-

A week later, the Blue House had an influx of athletically built students coming to them, looking to get their requisite social responsibility hours done and signed for by Cressida, more than enough to accomplish their goal.

“I’m in pectoral heaven.” Eddie told Jordan while handing out boxes of flyers to the assembled volunteers.

“Please, like you’re looking at their pecs.” Jordan commented.

“I am, Jordy.” Eddie said, leaning back so he could catch sight of a footballer’s behind as he walked away. “Though I wouldn’t be me if that was all I looked at.”

“Keep that up and you’ll be in trouble.”

“I’m only looking, I swear.” Eddie replied. “Anyone can appreciate the aesthetically pleasing male form.”

“Does that mean you're checking me out too?” Jordy asked, playfully striking a discus throwing pose.

Eddie chuckled, “Been and done, darling. Though Laurel might have an aneurism if she ever caught me at it.”

While Jordy laughed, Eddie’s attention was caught when he saw Em among the crowd. He was speaking to Cressida and Eddie found himself suddenly burningly curious. He left the box he was carrying on the desk and walked over to join their conversation.

“What have we here?” Eddie said, announcing himself. Cressida turned to him smiling.

“Hello Eddie. Em has said he would like to add to our numbers.”

Eddie turned a piercing look at Em, who glanced at him and away, looking distant. Eddie raised an eyebrow , but said only “Thank you, Very generous.”

“Would you mind finding something for him to do? We have enough people on flyers and posters, but you know best where we still need hands.”

“I’m afraid it’s all bits and pieces right now. Nothing specific. Just picking up the slack really.” Eddie explained to Em, still watching him, waiting for some sign that something else was going on under the shuttered expression.

“Oh no, they’re giving out the banner boxes. Those are for next week, Laurel!” Cress yelled and hurried away to avert disaster.

Eddie turned back to Em. “I thought your quota was filled?” Eddie remarked casually.

Em didn’t reply but met his gaze.

“Use your words, Em.”

Em’s hands were already lighting up a cigarette before answering, blowing smoke as he did so. “I want to help. It’s a great project.”

“And that’s it?”

Silence.

“You know, if you’re going to help, you’re going to need to develop a vocabulary.”

Inhale, exhale. “What do you need me to do?”

So Eddie sighed, throwing hands up in resignation. “Oh all right. Do you have any skills apart from the manliness of woodwork?”