The Weird Kid
“The Weird Kid is watching us again,” said Suresh Patel, my assistant coach. I hadn’t spotted the kid, whom we’d seen several times now, because I was focused on the field in front of me, watching my players making grass sprints and kicking what seemed like an endless stream of soccer balls into a net. When Suresh mentioned him, however, I glanced over. Sure enough, he was sitting at the top of the bleachers, watching us. That’s all he ever seemed to do was watch, which is why we’d dubbed him “the Weird Kid.”
There was nothing about him that particularly would’ve stood out in a crowd, if he’d been in one. He was a brown bear, probably about 12, no more than four and a half feet tall. He had that cocoa-colored fur that young brown bears get, though it lightened to more of a coffee-milk color over his muzzle. His hair was a little longish on top, and his build was a bit on the thin side for a bear. He was dressed a bit too lightly given the cold of the season, having on only a red hoodie, a pair of black jeans, and a maroon scarf. He was barefoot, which was odd, given that there was frost on the ground, but I guess there are feral brown bears in Alaska that do the same, so that didn’t strike me as too unusual. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and I wondered if maybe his family was too cold to afford a heavier coat for him.
“Well, he’s not hurting anything,” I said. “If he wants to watch, let him watch.”
Patel shrugged. He was a young, earnest white tiger in his mid-20s. “I mean…it’s fine. Just kind of weird. I wonder if he wants to join the team or something.” He glanced back at the field. “I think they’ve had about enough goal-kicks for now, don’t you?”
I nodded, turning my attention back to the team. I blew my whistle, and they stopped what they were doing, running over to me. “Okay, now…I’m going to have Coach Patel run you through the obstacle course.” There were some groans, but the team lined up in front of the young tiger. Before he could launch into instructions, I said, “Parker, not you. Come over here, please.”
“Sure, Dad!” my son called over. He broke away from the team and jogged over to me. I smiled, always so proud of my son, looking him over. He was the spitting image of me at his age – a red Doberman boy of 13 with a strong, athletic build and floppy ears and a thin whip of a tail. He didn’t have my intense black eyes, though; his eyes were like his mother’s, soft and brown. I chuckled at his easy lope, wishing I still had that youthful energy and a build like his. Now pushing 50, I was settling comfortably into a stout “Dadbod” as the kids were calling it.
“What’s up, Dad?” Parker asked as he got close. “Did I do something wrong?” Parker wanted to be the best-damned soccer player our local YMCA had ever seen, and, at the rate he was going, he would surpass my record-breaking performances in no time.
“Not at all,” I chuckled, ruffling his floppy ears. “See that boy sitting in the stands over there? Do you know who he is?”
Parker looked where I had nodded, then shook his head. “I’ve seen him around, watching us, but I don’t think he’s in my school.”
“Why don’t you go see who he is…if he’s okay…I’m a little worried about him in that light coat. The forecast is calling for snow, and…”
“Sure, Dad!” Parker said, already beginning a jog across the field. I watched him go in his white-trimmed red shirt, matching team shirt with the numbers 07 and the name Randall across the back, white socks, and black, cleated sneakers. He has a good body, I thought. I had been noticing things like that as Parker passed through puberty, and it had made me think back to when I’d been his age…checking out the other boys in the shower at gym, but not daring to admire too closely…wanting things I knew I couldn’t ever have. I pushed away the thoughts about Parker, just as I had pushed away those thoughts back then. “C’mon, Randall,” I growled at myself. “Keep your weird-ass thoughts together.”
I watched as my son approached the bleachers. The bear boy stood up, as if suddenly feeling strange about being there. His posture looked tense and kind of wary at first, but he soon relaxed, and then sat back down. Parker was good at talking to other kids, and I was very proud of him. He was a good kid, volunteering along with me to sort supplies at a local food pantry, to collect toys for his school’s toy drive, to collect trash in the local parks…just a good kid, all in all. As he talked to the Weird Kid, I saw the bear’s posture relax further, and soon, I heard them both laughing. After a bit, they both stepped off the bleachers and headed my way.
“Hey, Dad,” Parker said as they got closer, “this is Carey. He likes soccer, and he was just watching the team.”
“Hello, Coach Randall,” the little bear said in a sweet, soft voice. Puberty had clearly not caught up to this little cutie yet, and his smile was warm. But it was his eyes that really got to me. They were golden in color, very bright, but kind of strange. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but they seemed slightly older than his angelic little face would’ve suggested. “Thank you for inviting me to watch from over here. I am always interested in your practices, but I cannot always fathom what’s going on.”
My ears pricked at his odd, formal way of speaking. Fathom? What kid says fathom? I wondered if he were one of those bookworms who always used big words to show off. But he seemed polite and well-spoken. “Carey, was it? And you’re welcome. Nice to meet you.” I offered him my hand. I found that treating kids the way you would want to be treated always yielded good results.
He blinked at the offered shake, but his hesitation was only for a moment. He smiled even more brightly and shook my hand. Good grip, I thought. Firm. He had some strength. “It is very nice to meet you as well, Sir,” he said.
“Have you ever played soccer before, Carey?” I asked. “You look like you’d have a good build for it.”
“I have never played formally,” he said, “but I…” He frowned, as if annoyed with himself, then smiled again. “I’ve kicked a soccer ball around, now and then.”
I blinked. There it was again, that odd formality, but then it dropped and he seemed to speak more naturally. Maybe he was letting his guard down? “At school maybe?” I asked.
Carey shook his head. “No, sir. I’m home-schooled. I’m afraid I don’t know many…kids my own age.”
Ah, there it was. Home-schooled. That explained the formality and the awkwardness. “Well, hang around. Maybe we’ll give you a chance to kick one around today.”
The way he lit up made me smile. “Really? I’d like that a lot. I’ll just watch over here out of the way.” He waved to Parker and then jogged over to the bench on the side of the field.
“He seems nice,” I murmured to Parker.
“Yessir,” Parker said with a smile. “Though he seems kind of lonely. Maybe we could have him over for dinner sometime?”
I beamed at my son. So ready to take in someone who needed a friend. “As long as his parents don’t mind, he could come over tonight. Your Mom’s making pork chops, and you know she always makes a ton.”
“Aw, man, pork chops!” Parker said, licking his lips. “He’ll love those, I bet. Can I invite him Dad?”
“Just make sure he calls his parents and makes sure he has their permission.”
I turned my attention back to my team while Parker ran over. I had Patel ready me some times he had clocked, but I kept an eye on Parker and Carey, too. I saw Carey light up and guessed he was excited about the invitation. He pulled out a cell phone, and I assumed he was calling his Mom or Dad to get permission. Parker jogged back to join the rest of the team, and I had them do some laps while I texted my wife to let her know we’d likely have a young guest for dinner. Once the jogging was finished, I sent the boys to shower and get cleaned up. Patel followed to keep some semblance of order, and I turned to our guest. “Carey, why don’t you come over here?”
The little bear jogged over, smiling. “I can come to dinner, Coach Randall,” he said, happily. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”
I chuckled at how polite he was. “Well, you’re very welcome. Now…would you like to show me how well you can kick a soccer ball?”
To be blunt about it, he was pretty terrible. It was clear he’d had no training, and, while he had an athletic build, he was a bit uncoordinated. He took a few tumbles, but he picked himself up right away, laughing, determined to do better. What was remarkable, however, was that he learned incredibly quickly. I’d had some experience in teaching barefoot students how to use their claws and toepads in place of cleats, and, in no time, he had picked it up and was running much more surefootedly. After only 15 minutes, I could tell this kid had a lot of potential.
“That was pretty good, Carey,” I said, making him fairly glow with the bit of praise. “Do you think you’d like to join the team? You’d have to join the Y, but I could help out with some of the required uniform. I’ve got a lot of hand-me-down soccer uniforms, since Parker shot up like a weed this summer.”
“Oh, I’d really like that,” he said, smiling. Then he frowned. “I mean…I’ll have to make sure I can afford it, but…”
“If your parents don’t have a lot of money, there are programs to help with that,” I said, smiling gently. I knew this might be a touchy subject for him, and I didn’t want to upset him.
His face fell right away. “Oh…right…I…don’t have any parents,” he said, frowning. 
I felt like I’d blundered into that one. “Oh, Carey…I’m awfully sorry. Do you live with family or something?”
He frowned, as if he were trying to decide how to phrase something. “Well, not exactly.” I wondered if he lived at one of the several “Home for Little Wanderers” in the city. Then he brightened. “But I do have some money. I just need to budget a bit.”
“Well, um…” I tried to figure out how to phrase this. “You have to have the signature of a parent or guardian in order to join. Do you think…?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, smiling. “My…guardians tend to be pretty okay with me meeting new people and participating in other activities. They keep telling me I should meet more kids my age.”
Wait…more kids his age? So…not an orphanage then. This was mysterious. “Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it some time,” I said, smiling down.
“Oh? Who’s this?” I heard Patel say from behind me.
“This is our watcher,” I said with a chuckle. “Carey, may I introduce Suresh Patel. Suresh, this is Carey…I’m sorry, Carey. I haven’t caught your last name.”
I have never seen a boy not know his last name, and that’s absolutely what it was, I thought. He covered it pretty well, but I was 100% positive he wasn’t sure what to tell us. It was as if somehow he’d never been asked the question before. I didn’t think Patel noticed, though, because the bear quickly smiled and said, “Winslow.”
I paused, but then smiled, too. “Carey Winslow.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Patel,” Carey said, offering his hand and smiling.
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Winslow,” Patel said, smiling back, shaking the boy’s hand.
“Are the kids almost ready?” I asked Suresh.
He nodded. “Oh, yeah, they’ll be right out. Just general horsing around. You know how it is.”
It turned out, they weren’t long behind Patel, and they were soon clustered around Carey, being introduced by Parker. The dinner invite was mentioned, and Patel raised an eyebrow, coming over to me.
“You’re having the Weird Kid over to dinner?” he murmured to me.
“His name is Carey,” I said.
“Yeah, are you sure?” he said, skeptically. “Because I’m pretty sure he made up the name Winslow on the spot.”
You noticed that, too, huh?” I sighed. “Well, he seems like a nice kid. No parents, but still really polite and upbeat. Good little athlete, too.”
“Carlton,” Patel said, looking at me over his glasses, “are you sure about anything he’s told you? A kid who lies about his last name could be lying about anything.”
“Maybe his parents were in some kind of scandal, and he just doesn’t want any flack for it,” I aid, a bit crossly. In truth, I had been thinking the same thing, but I didn’t like a guy half my age making me feel dumb.
The tiger lifted his hands, placatingly. “Hey, I’m just looking out for you, man. Don’t blame me if he steals your Nintendo Switch or something.”
I came over and extracted Carey and Parker from the rest of the team, then we headed across the field. Parker and Carey were chatting. Well, Parker was talking, and Carey was listening and occasionally inserting a question or comment. After a while, however, it began to snow, and Carey’s attention was absolutely riveted to the falling flakes.
Parker noticed that his new friend had gotten distracted. “What is it?” he asked Carey. “Is everything okay?”
Carey turned back and nodded, then pointed up with almost reverence. “Snow!” he breathed, softly.
Parker laughed. “Well, yeah…kinda seasonal for December.”
“No, I…I know that, it’s just…” He watched a falling flake. It drifted down towards his nose, making him go cross-eyed as he followed it, then laughing brightly when the white flake touched down on his black button and melted in a flash. “Snow is magical,” he said, softly. “I mean…not literally…I understand the processes by which water vapor freezes and crystalizes into snow, but…” He blinked. “Oh, sorry.”
Parker snickered. “Kind of a Brainiac, huh?”
Carey frowned. “A…a what?”
“A smart guy! You got a lot on th’ ol’ noggin’? In our house, that’s kind of my Mom. Like, she’s super good with computers. She, like, researches everything. Dad’s kind of hopeless with computers.”
“Hey!” I protested. “I’m sitting right here!”
Carey seemed to ponder this, then he shrugged, smiling. “I just…I learn pretty fast, and I don’t forget things too easily. I guess…if that makes me a Brainiac?”
“That sounds awesome!” Parker says. “You’re like a thinking machine!”
Cary frowned. “I’m not a machine,” he said firmly.
Parker was startled, then laughed. “Dude, I’m just kidding!”
Carey’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, too. “Me too!”
I listened to them go. There was no doubt about it. Carey was a weird kid. “So…you like snow, Carey?” I asked.
The little bear nodded emphatically. “I love it. I’ve hardly ever gotten to see any.”
Parker looked puzzled. “What? But, like, it snows tons here every winter! How could you miss it?”
“Oh…” The little bear trailed off again. “I…last year, I had a lot going on in the winter,” he said softly. “I lost my father. And then someone else I…was close to moved away. So I hardly noticed winter weather. And before that…I…I’ve only lived here since last year.”
“Oh? Are you a California bear?” Parker asked, curiously. 
Carey didn’t answer that at first, then he smiled. “Did you know that brown bears are the most widely-distributed kind of bear in the world? We have sub-species in North America, Asia, and Europe!”
“Wow, that’s cool,” Parker said. “Dobermans are from Europe, originally, but we have lots of families here now, too.” He looked excited to share something. “Dad took us on a family trip to Germany a couple of years ago, and I learned to speak a little German, and we ate the best sausages ever!”
And that started them off talking about Germany for a while. Parker never quite noticed that Carey hadn’t said where he was originally from, but I did.
My wife Phyllis fussed over Carey quite a bit, and he seemed genuinely delighted and charmed by her attention. He loves the pork chops, applesauce, creamed spinach, roasted veggies, and the homemade chocolate pudding Phyllis served with fresh whipped cream. I noticed something, but only because I was watching for it, I think. The Carey sitting at dinner was surprisingly less awkward than the one I’d spoken to earlier. There were no hesitations over his last name or such things. It was almost as if, just as he’d been a quick study at soccer, he was also a quick study at being a normal kid. 
I had a weird shiver as I thought of old movies like The Thing and Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Was Carey some kind of alien thing, figuring out how to be a kid from watching us?
Carey must’ve noticed me staring, because he looked over and blinked. “Coach Randall? Is everything okay?” He looked embarrassed. “I don’t have spinach in my teeth or something, do I? I hate that.”
The weird spell was broken And I suddenly realized how ridiculous my thoughts were. Alien bear cubs. I blinked, shaking my head. Okay, I needed to take a breath. “You have a little chocolate pudding on your lip,” I said, miming dabbing at my own lips with a napkin. Carey blinked and mirrored my movements with his own. “There, you got it.”
He smiled warmly. “Thanks, sir!” He looked at Phyllis. “This pudding is so good, Mrs. Randall! Thank you so much!”
Phyllis smiled back, happily. “Well, thank you, Carey. There’s just a little bit more. Would you boys like to share it?”
“Yes, please!” Carey and Parker both said at the same time then broke down into giggling. He couldn’t have seemed more normal in that moment. Carey was probably just an odd kid, home-schooled, an orphan, and socially awkward. It was good that he was figuring out how to relate to people. Bringing him home was a good thing. I smiled at the boys as they gobbled up pudding together, eating from the serving bowl.
When it was starting to get late, I asked Carey if he needed a ride home. “Um…I’m not sure I know how to get there from here. Could you give me a ride back to the soccer field? It’s really a short walk from there.” Parker came along for the ride, and they laughed and chatted in the back seat, further dispelling any fears I had about Carey being anything other than just a normal kid. We dropped him off, and he waved, smiling, walking across the field. No Little Wanderers home over there. Maybe he was in a foster home or some kind of group home? Well, whatever the situation, it was his business. I wasn’t going to pry.
Parker moved up to sit next to me in the front seat. “He’s cool!” Parker said. “Thanks for sending me over to say hi to him.”
“You like him, huh? Does he seem weird to you at all?”
Parker seemed to consider that, then shrugged. “I guess a little, but it sounds like he’s got kind of weird circumstances. I think it’s really cool that he might join the team.”
I thought about this, then smiled at my son. “Me too. You know, you’re a pretty smart kid, Parker.”
“Thanks, Dad!” he said, and then he frowned. “I hope his guardian takes good care of him.”
“So do I, buddy,” I said, ruffling his ears.
At the next practice, Patel was curious. “So…how many major appliances did he steal?”
I rolled my eyes. “Man, you’re a suspicious cuss. He was a perfectly good guest all evening. Polite, sweet…he helped Phyllis load the dishwasher…”
“Okay, that’s even weirder,” Patel said, rubbing his chin. “No kid is that polite.”
I shook my head. “Just go get the ball bag and start putting them out. The kids will be here soon.”
“I’ll tell you something else,” Patel said, not yet leaving. “He’s familiar. I’ve seen that kid before.”
“Sure, we both have,” I said, crossing my arms. “He’s been coming and watching us play for weeks.”
Suresh frowned. “No, it’s from somewhere else. Maybe the news.”
“Suresh, the kid’s an orphan…a nobody. Just leave him be.”
The tiger snorted. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. Mark my words.”
“The ball bag!” I barked. “Go get it.”
Suresh scowled and walked off, and I’m pretty sure I heard him mutter, “You’re the ball bag,” under his breath, but he went about his duties. I had better things to concern myself with, however, because Parker and Carey were strolling up, chatting together. “Hey there, boys!” I called.
“Hi, Dad!” Parker called.
“Hi, Coach Randall!” Carey said, waving.
“Carey, come here.” The little bear trotted over, looking up. “I saw your name on the roster from the Y as having paid for the program. You have the permission slip?”
“Yessir!” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, offering it to me. I looked at the signature. Dr. Marion Bailey. I wondered who she was.
“Well, this looks in order. Mrs. Randall picked these out for you.” I opened my gym bag and handed him an armful of hand-me-down uniform pieces. “You can use any empty locker. And here.” I handed him a padlock. “You can use this until you get one of your own.”
“Thanks, Coach Randall!” he said, excitedly.
“Coach Patel!” I called over. “This is our new teammate. I believe you remember Carey Winslow?”
“Mr. Winslow,” Suresh said as he emptied out the ball bag, letting soccer balls spill over the cold ground.
“Could you take Mr. Winslow to the locker room and get his kit sorted?” I asked politely.
“Of course, Coach Randall,” he said, coolly. “I’d be delighted. This way, Mr. Winslow.”
While Suresh took the little bear to the locker room, I had everyone run through some warm-up jogs and stretches. It took Suresh and Carey much longer to come back than I expected, but, when they did come back, they were both grinning, and Carey was dressed nicely in the soccer uniform…still barefoot, but I knew he could handle that. “Nice of you both to join us, gentlemen,” I said sarcastically. “Mr. Winslow, could you please join your teammates and get properly warmed up? Parker, can you show him the standard stretches and drills?”
I pulled Suresh aside. “Please tell me you weren’t interrogating that boy?” I growled.
“Whoa, whoa…Carlton, relax…I was just getting to know him a little better. He’s actually a really sweet kid,” Suresh was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. I was suspicious, but Carey seemed fine. He was quickly catching up to speed with Parker on the standard warm-up exercises we used.
“Hmmm…alright, well, I’m glad you can see what a good kid he is,” I said.
“Oh, I definitely think he’ll be an asset to the team!” Suresh said, purring slightly.
Once again, Carey proved an incredibly quick learner. He only needed to be shown something once or twice, and he’d get it immediately. He wasn’t the faster runner, and he still wasn’t the most coordinated boy I’d ever met, but he seemed likely to outstrip the skills of all but the most dedicated of my team in no time. I was truly impressed; he had a gift for soccer.
After practice, I met Carey, Parker, and a whole group of boys who were coming out of the locker room together. Carey seemed to be making friends quickly. “Carey, do you have any plans?” I asked. “Mrs. Randall asked if you wanted to join us for dinner again, assuming your guardian is okay with it. We’re having duck. Do you like duck?”
“I’ve never had duck!” Carey said, eyes widening. He looked at Parker. “Is it good?”
“It’s the best!” Parker said, tail wagging. “The skin is suuuuper crispy, and the meat is so moist. And it comes with cherry sauce and slices of oranges and…”
“Let me just check!” Carey said, stepping a few paces away. He spoke to someone on the other end of the phone and then frowned. “Oh…I forgot. I have testing tonight. Maybe some other time. Duck sounds amazing.” I gathered that his home-schooling program was probably ramping up to doing the winter term grading.
I chuckled. “How about this…you tell your guardian that you have a standing invite to dinner after every practice. That way, you’ll know in advance if you can come.”
Carey brightened right up. “Oh, thank you, Coach Randall! I’d love that! I’ll definitely ask. Thank you again! Bye, Parker! Bye, Coach! Will you please thank Mrs. Randall for the soccer clothes? Err...uniform? They fit really well. I’m sorry to run, but I don’t want to be late for the tests!” He waved and ran off.
The next few weeks passed pretty much in a new pattern. Carey was there at each soccer practice, and he got better and better. Sometimes, he would arrive early to get some private pointers from Suresh, and the two of them seemed to get much closer. Suresh seemed to have completely lost interest in pursuing the origin of Carey’s perceived “weirdness”. After practice, he came to dinner most nights we invited him. He and Parker got to be very good friends, and he even helped Parker with some math classes he was having difficulty with. Carey’s weirdness popped up in odd little ways, mostly in how he reacted to things that we often thought of as ordinary. One day, as we drove through downtown, he smiled, looking out at the Common. “I love this place. It was one of the first parts of the city that I saw, and it’s so pretty all lit up.”
“Oh, the city does a great job making things awesome for Christmas,” Parker said excitedly. “We should go hang out there some weekend. We can go through the Farber Shopping Centre, get awesome hot cocoa, do some Christmas shopping…” He suddenly seemed to think of something. “So, Carey,” he said, “Practice after next is off because it falls on Christmas. Do you have any plans for Christmas?”
The little bear considered this. “Not really? My guardian isn’t really a holiday person, I guess. We’ve never really celebrated holidays.” The idea didn’t seem to bother him, which, again, was a little odd. I found myself wondering if his family had been Jehovah’s Witnesses or something. 
I cleared my throat. “Carey, I’m so sorry I’ve never asked, but…were your family religious, or…?”
“No, not at all,” he said, smiling. “My father was a scientist. He never really talked about religion at all. I think he only made sure I knew about Christmas at all because he wanted me to know stuff a normal kid would know.”
“But you won’t have school or anything?” Parker said, cutting through to one of the best elements of Christmas in his mind – the days off. I chuckled to myself.
“No, I won’t have school,” Carey agreed, nodding and smiling. “We just probably won’t have any big plans or anything.” He smiled. 
Parker was clearly unhappy, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t act any differently until much later that night, after we’d dropped Carey off at the parking lot. “It’s not fair,” he finally said, as we were driving. “Carey is so nice. He should have a nice Christmas. Especially since he lost his Dad and stuff last winter.”
I nodded. “You’re right,” I agreed with him. “It’s not fair. Maybe we’ll talk to your Mom about it.”
It turned out, Phyllis was already thinking in that direction. “Do you think Carey has anyone to be with for Christmas?” she asked as we were getting ready for bed, with a concerned tone of voice.
“It’s funny you should ask,” I chuckled. “Parker was thinking about that, too. It sounds like Carey’s guardian isn’t into celebrating the season. I thought it might be a religious thing at first, but it doesn’t seem it. Carey seems okay about it, but…”
“Well, I’m not,” she said, firmly. “That boy deserves a nice Christmas! Let’s have him over. In fact…he deserves the whole kit and caboodle. Let’s ask his guardian if we could have Carey stay over on Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, you’ll make Parker’s day with that!” I said with a chuckle. “He’s really latched on to the little guy.”
“Well, let’s invite him and make it a surprise for Parker until we know it can happen for sure,” she said, smiling. “I was thinking of making duck, so it’ll make up for the dinner that he had to miss.”
I arrived early for the next practice, because I wanted to invite Carey to Christmas before Parker arrived. I had expected to find him and Suresh out on the field, maybe running grass sprints, or going through the obstacle course, or kicking the balls around. Maybe they’ve finished up and are in the locker room, I thought, heading towards it.
It was locked, so I used my master key to unlock it. As I opened the door, I heard sudden, surprised noises from inside. A bench scraping, and feet moving quickly. “Hello?” I called in, suddenly wondering if I’d interrupted a break-in.
“Coach Randall,” Carey’s voice said, trembling slightly. He was standing there, just in his jockstrap. “Sorry about the door. It wasn’t latching quite right, so Coach Patel locked it. Sorry about that.” He grinned at me. Despite the oddness of the situation, I couldn’t not look at his small, slender body. I hadn’t seen it so exposed before, and the sight of it was a bit…arousing. It brought back all those memories about my own teammates when I was little…all those feelings. I felt my body lurch a little as one particular part of it threatened to reveal my interest to the boy. 
“Where’s Coach Patel?” I asked, confused, and a bit alarmed by my own reactions. Carey was acting as nervously as he ever had.
“Back here, Carlton!” his voice called from the direction of a bathroom stall.
“I got here late,” Carey said, his confidence seeming to grow. “I was just getting changed. We’re going to run a few endurance laps.”
I blinked. “Carey…you have…something on your lip.” I mimed wiping his mouth.
He paled, then reached up and wiped away something kind of translucent and pale. “Oh…yeah, my nose has been running really badly. Sorry…super gross. I’ll go wash up before I change.” He turned away, and I saw his naked rump, framed by the white elastic straps. That boy has a fine ass, my brain said, without my permission.
I stood there, conflicted. He was so young, but he was cute, too. I would never do anything with him; I was a happily married man. But I couldn’t deny that Carey was sexy. No wonder Patel had gotten so friendly with him…so willing to meet him one on one for “extra practice”. When Suresh came out, he was naked. He looked at my face and cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Hey, Carlton, I…”
“Don’t,” I said, warningly, keeping my voice low enough for Carey not to hear over the sounds he was making washing his face in the sink. “Don’t try to lie about this. Do you know how incredibly inappropriate this is? What would possess you to…?”
Suresh shrugged. “He’s cute. Don’t try and tell me you haven’t noticed.” He nodded at the traitorous bulge in my pants.
“We could both lose our jobs!” I hissed at him. “Parents trust us to be responsible with their kids, and…”
“He doesn’t have parents,” Suresh said with a shrug.
“You know what I mean!” I growled. “His guardians…”
“He doesn’t have guardians,” Suresh said with the same calm, collected voice. 
“What are you talking about?” I hissed. “Of course he does. Dr. Marion Bailey…”
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” he said. “I told you I’d seen him somewhere before. In the news.” He walked away from me, over to his own locker. I was so baffled by the calmness he was radiating that I followed without another word. He opened it and took out a handful of newspaper articles. “Here…go read. Educate yourself.”
I looked at the titles of some of the articles, the photographs, and I felt something drop out of the bottom of my stomach. I took them, and I sat down on one of the benches, and I read. And that’s how I learned about Carey. About the Lil Bear project. About Dr. Koslov and his team. About the boy who wasn’t exactly a boy. About the…experiment that I had almost invited to Christmas.
Suresh cleared his throat, and I looked up. “See? He’s in the news, seeking emancipation from the company that made him. No parents. No guardians. No impropriety. As long as we keep it discreet, he’s perfectly willing. You could give him a try yourself, if you wanted. He really likes you.”
I shook my head. “I…I’m a married man. I could never do that to Phyllis.”
Suresh smiled and patted my shoulder. “You’re a good man. You two are lucky to have each other.”
I never did quite invite Carey to Christmas that day. I sleep-walked through practice, mostly letting Suresh handle it. Parker noticed, but I told him I wasn’t feeling well. I told Carey it might be best if he went home rather than come over for dinner, because I didn’t want him to get sick, too. That night, I was in the den, calling up more articles on the computer. Created. Genetic experiment. Eventually, Phyllis came in, and I quickly minimized the windows on the computer screen, revealing an image of Santa Claus and a Christmas tree as the computer’s wallpaper. “Parker’s doing the dishes, so we have a few minutes,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Huh?” I asked. “What do you mean? I’m just a bit under the weather.”
Phyllis rolled her eyes. “Honey, we’ve been together for almost 20 years. I know all your moods. There is no hiding from me.” She looked me up and down. “You’re not sick, like you told Parker” she said. “So something’s bothering you. What is it?”
I sighed. I knew Phyllis almost as much as Parker did…as much as I had…before I knew. But she was right; I was terrible at hiding things from her. “This…” I said. “I’m so sorry you have to find out this way.”
She put her glasses on and leaned over, looking at the screen. “You’re joking, right?” she said, skeptically.
I shook my head. “I wish I were. But no, there are too many articles…”
“No, I mean…did you seriously not know?”
I blinked, startled. “Wait…you…did?”
She snorted. “Yes, of course. Honey, I research everything online. The first time you told me the name of his guardian, Dr. Marion Bailey, I looked her up. Imagine my surprise when I discovered she’s not involved with children’s charities, but the head of a major genetics company.” She tapped a file folder on the screen, and it opened to all the same files that I had found, plus more. “So I called her and asked to meet her for coffee. Just like I would the parent or guardian of any kid that Parker was hanging out with.”
I sat there, staring at the screen, then stared up at my wife. “I feel monumentally stupid and out of touch,” I said. “So…what happened?”
She chuckled, patting my head. “We met for coffee. We talked all about Carey. She’s very fond of him, but she’s doing her best to distance herself from him, as they’ve been fighting to get his rights as a person recognized. She’s very happy with him having other people to relate to.”
“And…this doesn’t bother you…at all?” I asked. “He’s a science experiment!”
“It did at first,” she admitted, “but then she showed me some photos. They kind of changed my outlook on the situation.” She clicked a sub-folder, and then began clicking on files in the folder. Photos enlarged, showing Carey…or Lil Bear 001 as he was apparently originally designated. In them he was sitting at a desk in a pastel yellow jumpsuit. He was concentrating on schoolwork in front of him, seeming very rigid and artificial. But, as they progressed, he noticed the camera, turned to it, smiled, waved, and made faces…just like any other kid might have done.
More photos followed of Carey in normal clothes. Out in public. With a group of people…an older brown bear, a chestnut horse, a tabby cat, a mongoose, and especially a wolf with a mask-like pattern on his face. In them, he was laughing, riding a merry-go-round, eating ice cream. There was nothing sinister about the images. Carey wasn’t an alien being, trying to assimilate himself into society for a nefarious purpose. He was a kid…a weird kid…trying to learn how to fit in.
“Do you really think it’s okay?” I asked, still unsure. This was a lot to process.
“I don’t know,” Phyllis said, smiling, spreading her hands. “Just like we can’t know if any kid he gets friendly with will turn out to be okay. Or whether his first boyfriend or girlfriend will be okay. We don’t get to know that upfront.” She took one of my hands and squeezed it. “But we can have faith that it will. And we can hope that it will.” She smiled and shrugged. “I know you have doubts and worries. I do, too. But Carey’s the same person he was before you know this about him. Did you have any doubts then?”
I thought about it. “At first…but I got to like him very quickly.” I sighed. “But I don’t know if I can stop knowing what I know.”
“Of course you can’t…but we all adore him. Parker adores him. I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt, don’t you?” She patted my arm. “Sleep on it. If you’re still worried about it, we don’t ever have to let Parker know we were thinking of inviting Carey over. I’m going to queue up A Christmas Carol and microwave some popcorn.” She walked out, and I stayed behind, thinking. 
The words of the movie, which I knew by heart, drifted to me. “I have always thought of Christmas as a good time…a kind, forgiving, charitable time…” I sighed, turned off the computer, and joined and family. I knew what I was going to do. I was going to have a little faith.
And that’s how, a few days later, on Christmas Eve, Carey Winslow was our guest. He came well prepared, with a backpack with extra clothes, pajamas, his toiletries kit, a towel, and a box of homemade fudge that he said Dr. Bailey had packed, along with a thank you note that Phyllis claimed immediately, in case it said anything we wouldn’t want Parker to know. We got him squared away in Parker’s room on the ground floor. We’d bought Parker a bunk bed for his 11th birthday, and he was excited to share it with his little bear friend. Soon, clad in pajamas, hot cocoas in hand, the boys were watching It’s a Wonderful Life, which Carey watched with rapt fascination, gasping at each revelation.
“You’ve never seen this movie before?” Parker asked incredulously. “How is that possible? It’s on constantly at this time of year!”
“Parker, don’t be rude,” I cautioned him.
“Sorry, Dad. Sorry, Carey,” Parker said.
Carey didn’t even respond, too absorbed in the story of George Bailey to care about possible rudeness. I wondered, suddenly, if he were thinking about Dr. Marion Bailey, and I regretted not having invited her to visit, too. Next year, I thought.
Actually, it was It’s a Wonderful Life that put my last fear to bed. Parker, having seen the movie many times, was playing a game on his Switch, but Carey was watching intently. Phyllis and I were making up a really strong  batch of eggnog to enjoy in the kitchen, and we’d each sampled a decent amount, both with and without rum. I was passing past the living room, and I glanced in on the boys. George Bailey had just returned to his family, and the people who loved him began bringing in money to help him. I heard a soft little sob. I glanced at our little guest, and Carey was quickly swiping his arm over his eyes, which were damp and bright. He wasn’t imitating anyone, and he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just feeling. It was the nail in the coffin of me ever thinking of Carey as anything but a real little boy ever again.
It took a while to get the boys to bed. Teeth were brushed, Santa Claus oriented discussions were had. I wondered, briefly, if Carey believed in Santa Claus, but I decided it was a subject for another day. We got the boys settled, Parker in the top bunk as usual, and Carey in the bottom bunk. As I was turning the light off, I heard the little bear murmur, “Coach Randall?”
“Yes, Carey?” I asked, leaning over. “Did you need something?”
He smiled, just shaking his head. “I just wanted to thank you. This has just been the best Christmas I can remember.”
I chuckled. “It’s barely started, buddy. We have Christmas dinner tomorrow, and presents, and stockings. And we’ll listen to Christmas carols and everything.”
He listened, a sleepy smile on his face. “That all does sound wonderful, but this is already awesome. So thank you.”
I leaned down, intending to tug his covers up a bit, but he surprised me by putting his arm around my neck in a gentle hug and kissing me cheek, softly. I kissed his forehead, like I always did with Parker, patted his chest, and let him sleep.
Sleep didn’t come easily for me, however. Too much egg nog and cocoa and Christmas wine, I suppose. Phyllis was in the upstairs bathroom, so I tiptoed down to use the one on the ground floor. I sat on the toilet, relieving myself as quietly as possible, when I heard a soft moan from the direction of Parker’s room. I finished my business, quietly washed my hands, and then slipped out to listen. It was Parker’s voice,  decided, giving soft little moans, accompanied by soft, wet little noises. I suddenly thought of what I’d seen on Carey’s lips in the locker room, and I tented my underwear almost at once. I swallowed and very, very quietly, pushed open the door to Parker’s room just a tiny fraction of an inch.
Parker hadn’t had a nightlight in years, of course, but the streetlight was filling the room with a warm, yellow-orange radiance. It fell on the boys, who were both on the bottom bunk, illuminating them with a ghostly glow. There, I watched as Carey slowly bobbed his head up and down, tenderly sucking my own son’s cock.
He’s a good-sized boy, I thought, incongruously proud of my son’s sexual development. He moaned as six inches of hard-as-steel red boycock disappeared between Carey’s soft, moist lips, over and over. The little bearcub was still wearing his tighty-whiteys, but there was just enough light to make out a smallish tent in them as he enjoyed this. He seemed to know what he was doing, if Parker’s writhing and soft moans were any indication, and I wondered if Suresh had been the first, or if some other lucky fellow had had the pleasure.
My cock was like a steel rod, and I felt it lightly dampening the front of my own boxers. I maneuvered the cloth, letting myself out for a bit of air. I wrapped one hand around my shaft, cradling my sac with the other, softly moaning myself at the intense rush of pleasure that I felt. For a moment, I imagined that I was Parker, feeling those tender lips…maybe I could’ve been if I’d said something to my teammates back when I was a kid his age…but now, watching these two boys play was something that seemed equally as good.
Parker’s moans were as rhythmic as the suckling noises were now, and my own precum was adding its own slick refrain to the sounds we were making together. I panted, sliding my hand up and down in time with Carey’s movements. I spit in my hand to make it slicker, to more easily imagine that cub’s tongue stroking over my length. I moaned louder, and the boys froze. I heard them whispering to each other, as I leaned back, my heart pounding…
And then Carey leaned out of the door. He looked right, away from me, then turned left, looking directly at me. To his credit, he didn’t cry out, although his expression was one of surprise and alarm. I put my finger to my lips, my eyes pleading with him not to say anything. And then he smiled warmly up at me and nodded, going back in, leaving the door a bit more ajar than before. “No one there,” I heard him whisper to Parker. “Must’ve been Santa.” They both softly giggled, and then went back to it.
Parker’s moans quickened now, and I realized that Carey had turned his body just slightly to the side, giving me a better view of what he was doing, as well as Parker’s naked body. I whined, softly, stroking myself faster, watching as Carey bobbed and suckled and every once in a while, I was almost positive, glanced over at me, lurking in the shadows of the hallway.
Parker soon whimpered. “I’m gonna cum!” he warned Carey. But Carey just smiled around his shaft. He bobbed more eagerly, and I stroked just a bit faster. Parker grabbed a pillow, biting down on it as he came in the little bear’s mouth, and I used my own palm to silence my own strangled cries of pleasure as I came at the same moment that my son did. My load was so pent up that the first bit hit me on my own chin. I shuddered, leaning on the wall, letting my orgasm spatter the wallpaper. I saw Parker flopping in post-orgasmic bliss, and I used the period of his heavy breathing to get my boxers off and use them to wipe up the load I had spilled. I heard the boys speaking very low, giggling now and then, and generally enjoying each other.
As I tiptoed back upstairs, I found Phyllis already back asleep. I tossed my boxers in the laundry and cleaned myself up with a facecloth and some warm, sudsy water. I saw in the mirror that some of my load was still clinging to my muzzle. “Something on your lip,” I teased my reflection, then wiped it away. I slipped back into the bedroom and put new boxers on, then collapsed next to my wife. As I lay there, edging towards sleep, I wondered if the boys had done this before. Were they boyfriends? Was this just experimentation? Which one had instigated it? In the end, I realized that it didn’t matter at all. They had just been enjoying each other, a rare gift between two young men. And just before I dozed off, I came to recognize that, for a moment, I’d been given a lovely Christmas gift myself…a chance to enjoy it with them in secret. It was something that would not be repeated…I wouldn’t even try to repeat it. Their happiness made me happy for them, and I’d enjoyed the tiny glimpse of what might have been. My curiosity sated, I would never again spy on them. Although Carey would, in times to come, occasionally give me a look or a smile that harkened back to that night, and I would find myself tenting my pants a bit.
I thought about how the next day would be, when the boys would open their gifts. I knew Parker wanted the game we’d bought him for the Switch, and I hoped that Carey would like his big gift – the soccer shirt with his own number and the name Winslow on it. I thought he would. And I smiled as I drifted to sleep at last.