The Shukah

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

The thick crusted snow around the soles of Jim’s boots crumbled in chunks onto the rough door mat. The walk from Prism Castle’s lower courtyard to the hearth room entry had left him wishing he’d worn more layers, but while San Francisco had chilly weather, it had nothing like the frigid, brutal winters of Rainbow Valley.

Boots sufficiently rid of snow, he opened the heavy oak door and stepped into the cider-scented embrace of the castle’s hearth room. Nothing in California smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg mixed with cedar log smoke from the crackling fireplace. If late autumn had a scent, it would be Prism Castle in November.

Jim breathed deeply until the stinging cold in his lungs was replaced with roasted pumpkin and spiced apples.

The antique handle on the oak door latched behind him with a ratcheting creak, and three furry fox faces popped over the edge of the sofa nearest the fire. The Josharon kit on the end had reddish-brown fur and a wild red thatch of a mane. Jahmin. He was the only young Josharon Jim could ever consistently recognize. No matter how many spots, speckles, stripes, or tails the others had, they all ended up looking the same to him. How Meg could remember them all, he’d never know.

Jahmin bounced to his knees and leaned over the back of the couch with a toothy canine grin. “Hi, Jim!”

Jim started peeling his scarf away from his neck. “Hey, Jahmin.”

“You looking for Meg?” Jahmin’s blue eyes sparkled.

“Yeah.” Jim toed off his boots and left them in the entry way. “But I might need a cup of Jenny’s cider first.”

He swung his backpack into a nearby chair and laid his scarf over the arm, the woolen material damp under his fingers.

The door to the kitchen whined as the swinging door flung open, and Jenny Mitchell bounded into view with her long blonde hair done up in a messy bun and her skirts flouncing. She carried a woven basket loaded with iced cinnamon buns.

The girl froze halfway to the couch where the Josharon boys were cheering at the sight of the pastries.

“Jim?” She gaped at him, her huge dark blue eyes wider than the knotholes in the mantle over the fireplace.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Ye-es?”

Why was she looking at him like that?

It’s not like he was an unusual presence at the castle anymore. He was here nearly every day, tinkering on some computer system with Velanna or working on some project with Danny or digging around in the library with Mickey or reviewing case files with Meg.

Jenny’s eyes grew wider, rounder, more horrified.

He checked his fly. Zipped up.

He checked the carpet. No mud and snow tracked in.

He checked his backpack. No books he’d forgotten to return (Velanna was a tyrant).

Why was Jenny looking at him like that?

“What are you wearing?” The girl’s voice came out in choked squeal.

Jim scowled and looked down.

He’d thrown on an old pair of jeans stained with paint and plaster from the weekend when he and Barb had tried to renovate the living room (lesson learned: hire a professional). Knowing how cold the weather was in Andaria, he’d snatched a sweater from the back of his closet. Granted, it wasn’t the nicest thing he owned. On his top ten list of attractive pieces of clothing, it probably didn’t even rank in twenty.

But it was warm.

Even if it did look like the orange shag carpet the family church used to have on its floors.

“You look like a shukah!” Jenny cried.

All bustle and conversation in the hearth room silenced, and the eyes of all the Josharons turned to stare at him. Not just the kits on the sofa, but the elders in the corner wing-back chairs and the matrons knitting on the floor.

The boys on the couch instantly burst into raucous giggles, and one of the elder Josharons in the back let out a snort of laughter before returning to his book. The matrons with their knitting projects all laughed as well and went back to work.

Jim spread his hands. “What’s a—shukah?”

The boys on the couch kept giggling. Jenny set the basket of pastries on the coffee table and marched toward him. She hooked her arm in his and dragged him out of the hearth room with one hand while she peeled her apron off with the other. She paused at the kitchen where she kicked the door open and reached inside to hang up her apron.

“Jenny?” Yasira called her name from within the kitchen.

“Can’t talk, Yasira. We’ve got an emergency here.” Jenny hauled Jim out of the hearth room and down the hallway toward the west wing of the castle.

“Jenny, what is happening?”

“You’re here to see Meg, right?”

“Yes. We’ve got to go over the Moscow case we worked last—”

“She can’t see you.”

Jim frowned. “What? Why?”

“I told you.” Jenny flapped the arm that wasn’t cutting off the circulation to his wrist. “Seriously, Jim, what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know what I’m thinking. What are you talking about?”

She dragged him down the hallway, brightened only by the glowing aelon stones embedded in the crown moulding of the high arched ceilings. When they had nearly reached the common room she shared with her siblings, she pushed the heavy wooden door of her bedroom open.

“You can’t spend time with Meg when you look like a shukah!”

“Why not?” He yelped as she jerked him into her room. “And what’s a shukah?”

“You are.” She pulled him to the center of her room and regarded him with a scowl. She threw her hands in the air. “Why are you wearing that?”

“My sweater?”

“That’s not a sweater, Jim. It’s a dead animal.”

He pulled at one of the chunky bits of orange yarn hanging off the sweater. “Hey, I know it’s not trendy—”

“Trendy?” Jenny flailed until her messy bun bounced. “This is tragic.”

“It’s warm.”

“If you want to be warm, next time set yourself on fire. Better than making our eyes bleed.”

Jim chuckled. “It’s not that bad.” He spotted a mirror and glanced at his reflection. “I mean, it’s not good either.”

Jenny lifted his arm and peered around his side. “Fire is better.”

“Ha, ha.” He turned to her. “Well, if you won’t let me see Meg wearing this, do you have a better idea?”

Jenny stood on her tip toes and pulled him down toward her so she could stare into his eyes. “FIRE.”

“An idea better than that?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Jenny rolled her eyes and pranced toward the door in the corner of her room.

Sighing, Jim followed her, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting on the floor of her bedroom. He poked his head through the doorway and blinked in surprise.

He hadn’t explored the family bedrooms in Prism Castle, and the castle itself was full of oddities. So it shouldn’t have been a shock to see a closet that was nearly as big as the bedroom itself. But—it still was.

“Good grief,” he muttered, stepping further into the room-sized closet. “Do all the bedrooms have closets this size?”

The whole wall on the left was hung with rods from which draped fabric of every color, pattern, and texture. Round cylinders of yarn took up the entire back wall. A bowl-shaped chair with a giant fuzzy cushion took up half the corner, the rug around it littered with colored pencils and drawing pads covered in half-finished sketches of birds and flowers.

Jenny dug through a wardrobe on the opposite wall, chattering a mile a minute about boys and geniuses and something about oblivious lovestruck idiots. Jenny often rambled and said bizarre things that didn’t really make sense to him. He’d long since gotten into the habit of smiling and nodding when she got started. He’d discovered that since there was no way to stop her, the best strategy was to let her get it out of her system.

“Aha!” Jenny exulted from inside the wardrobe and reappeared holding a length of dark blue fabric. “I knew I still had it.” She strode toward him and shoved it into his arms. “I’m going to leave. You’re going to put that on. And then we’ll hold a ceremonial cleansing and burn that horror you’re wearing.”

He started. Jenny pursed her lips and shoved the fabric at him. “You want cider? Change your shirt.”

The girl stormed out of the closet and closed the door behind her.

Girls were weird.

What difference did his shirt make?

Whatever. Smile and nod.

He pulled the sweater over his head and dropped it on the floor, and he held the dark blue shirt out in front of himself. It was longer than he normally wore, a tunic with a mandarin-style collar, though that’s not what they’d call it here. Long sleeved. A few dark buttons up the chest. He shrugged into it and let it fall to mid thigh, the soft fabric already warmer than he expected.

“Are you done yet?” Jenny called from the outside.

“Yes, Jenny.”

She flung the door open and peered at him. She nodded brusquely. “Yes. That’s much better.”

He bent to retrieve his sweater, but Jenny beat him to it.

“No.” She batted his hands away. “It might possess you again.”

Stifling the urge to smirk, Jim forced his lower lip out. “It has sentimental value, Jen.”

Jenny twisted up her face, looking like she’d eaten a lemon.

“Really?” She whined.

“No.”

She smacked his arm.

“Are you really going to set it on fire?”

“It must burn.” She flounced out of the closet.

He sighed.

Smile and nod, Jim. Smile and nod.

He followed her back up the hallway toward the hearth room, but before they reached it, Meg appeared out of the shadows of the stairwell as they passed.

“Jim.” She beamed at him.

His heart lodged in his throat when she smiled like that. His brain emptied, and all the words he knew fled. So while he tried to cheerfully respond, “Hi, Meg” all that came out was a sound like something between a mangled audio file and a dying mouse.

Smile and nod worked with Jenny.

It worked fine for Meg too.

Meg raised an eyebrow at her little sister. “What have you been up to, Jenny?”

“Nothing.” Jenny batted her eyes. “Jim’s here to go over your case file.”

“Yes,” Meg said slowly. “I have it in the library.”

Jenny smiled sweetly. “I’ll bring you some sweet rolls and cider.”

“That would be nice.”

He froze as Meg touched his arm. “What is this?” She lifted his arm to look at the fabric of the shirt Jenny had forced him into.

“A—shirt.”

Meg smirked. “I like it. Blue’s a good color on you.”

His mouth went dry. “Uh. Wha-huh?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Come on. Moscow.” She struck a pose before starting down the hall toward Velanna’s extensive library.

Jim glanced at Jenny, and the girl glared at him and pointed after her sister.

Jim smiled. “Thanks, Jenny.”

“You should be thankful.” She spun on her heel. “Honestly, I have to do everything.” She pranced away muttering.

Jim shook his head and trailed after Meg. Maybe one day he’d understand why Jenny was the way she was, but he doubted it. Until then, she’d just be Jenny, eccentric and mad as a loon but sweet.

“Hey, Meg.” He hurried to walk beside her.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She held the library door open.

“What’s a shukah?”

She blinked her beautiful eyes at him. “What?” She laughed.

“I just heard it.” He shrugged. “It’s a word I don’t know.”

Her eyes sparkled. “It’s a cow.”

Jim’s face fell.

“A cow?”

“Big fluffy cow.”

Jim sagged. “Tell me it’s at least smart?”

“Not at all.”

“Attractive?”

Meg scrunched up her nose. “No.”

“Any redeeming qualities?”

Meg bit her lip. “Well. Makes a half-decent roast dinner.”

“Only half-decent?”

Meg laughed and stepped into the library.

Oh, well. If Jenny were going to compare him to an animal, at least it was one that had some level of utility. Not like a cat or something.