The First Love Of Alipang Havens

It was not lost on Eric Havens, when he came home from his dental office just in time for supper, that Alipang and Chilena were NOT sitting next to each other, he at the end and she at an adjoining side position, as they usually did. Al had moved around to the other side of the table, and he and Chil were not speaking to each other. Not being one of the clueless, oblivious fathers commonplace on television, Eric already knew quite well what the progress of bodily maturing was doing to his eldest daughter's temperament; he also knew that his wife, good woman though she was, had been mistaken in continuing to postpone their son's education in this area.

After supper, therefore, without even asking what particular incident had created the domestic tension in his absence, he declared in tones which permitted no dissent (not that he expected any), "Al and I are going to go have The Talk."

Soon father and son were strolling around the duck pond in General Longstreet Park. Together they assessed how much Alipang already knew about human biology, which was fragmentary; then Dr. Havens homed in on those aspects of the subject which directly affected Chilena's behavior.

"Oh my God, is _that_ what happens??" was Alipang's wide-eyed reaction. He now felt that hints which had come his way before were falling into place, creating a new picture of girls and women.

When all the necessary ground had been covered, Eric finished with, "Son, your behavior toward your sisters has always made me proud of you. You are a true gentleman, without being a stuck-up stuffed shirt. You need to keep on forgiving Chilena--though I _will_ be talking to her myself about controlling her mouth. Besides the changes in her that we've just been discussing, she has another problem. Have you ever heard the phrase 'Reactive Attachment Disorder'?"

"No, Dad, I haven't."

"It's something that happens often with adopted children when they _know_ from the start that they're adopted. You didn't really suffer from it, because it was just SO obvious to you how much better off you were with us than back in that slum district. But Chilena has had to live with the fact that her birth parents _intentionally_ gave her up when she was three--and this while _keeping_ her biological brothers. The attachment disorder is that she desperately _wants_ to feel secure and wanted and loved, yet has a hard time trusting that her adoptive parents and others _actually_ love her and want her.

"When she's clingy with you and your Mom and me--well, that explains itself. When she gets cold and impatient with 'the babies'--that's her insecurity breeding jealousy. And when she occasionally turns mean or indifferent with you, that isn't because she doesn't love you. I never knew any other girl who loved her brother even half as much as Chilena loves you; but when the insecurity is gnawing at her, she's afraid that _you'll_ stop loving _her;_ so a corner of her brain tells her to protect herself by being mean to you _first,_ so that no rejection from you can catch her off guard."

"Dad, I won't _ever_ stop loving Chilena! She's done as much as you and Mom to give me a good life!"

"I know, son. And I count on you to keep on giving love, Christlike love, to all three of your sisters. Here, before we head home, let me tell you something that would have the feminist police on our heads like a ton of bricks if it were said in the hearing of any woman. Alipang, my boy, you are much stronger than Chilena. I don't just mean physically. In spite of the nightmares that still come to you now and then, overall you have _more_ emotional stability, more self-knowledge and self-discipline, than your sister has; maybe more than she ever will have. The Book of Romans tells us that the strong must bear with the weak in kindness. On the whole, you already practice this. I just ask you to keep on doing it. Galatians tells us not to grow weary in well-doing..."

"...because in due season we will reap the reward, if we don't lose heart," Alipang finished for him.

"That's my boy!" Eric Havens applauded. "Now we can head home and see about some dessert."
 
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That same evening, as it happened, another parent-child conference took place: between Elizabeth Tisdale, who was petting a half-grown Airedale named Esmeralda at the time, and her daughter Kim, now almost 15 but retaking 8th grade because of dyslexia and attention-deficit problems which were not her fault. Kim was holding her cat Leo.

"So tell me, Kimmykimmycocopuff, why did you break up with Raul?"

"Because he thought my going out with him to a lousy movie made me his play-toy. He wouldn't respect my boundaries." Kim snorted. "A lot of good my trying to be pretty for him did!" (She was now firmly planted in the combat boots once more.)

"And what made you expect, at the start, that he would treat you as well as you deserve to be treated?"

"He _talked_ as if he respected me."

"Just talk, eh?"

"Well, Mom, it's not as if I have my own staff of private detectives to research the entire life of every boy I feel attracted to. Sometimes all you _have_ to go by is how a guy talks to you."

"You know what I think?" said the mother. "I think that in spite of your not wanting to be a slave to fads and fashions--and I approve of your independence there!--it ought to be possible to find more _group_ activities for you, in which decent boys could get to know you apart from all the tensions of the dating ritual."

"I'm open to suggestions," replied Kim, "as long as they _don't_ require me to be a bashful, sweet little rosebud."

That night, Kim went online, to a web forum which featured text-based roleplaying; and as usual, she transformed herself there into a superhuman indestructible kung-fu mutant earth-goddess princess, who was better than everyone at everything...and who thus didn't have to endure goons like Raul.

Even as she defeated and humiliated inferior males by the score in cyberspace, a little piece of her was wondering if she would ever find a boy who was SO good that she _wouldn't_ feel a need to compete with him and put him down.
 
Alipang had needed to be a light sleeper to survive in his days as a homeless orphan. He had grown less tense through his happier existence in the Havens family; but except in the deepest recesses of R.E.M. sleep, he still usually was easy to awaken.

He knew it when his bedroom door opened. He heard the fall of bare feet whose force in stepping declared them to be Chilena's feet; and he heard his door being latched again. He also heard sniffling, as if she had been crying. He clamped his eyes more tightly shut. All the things Dad had explained to him this evening, about girls and boys, were swirling in his mind. They did not mean that anything about his feelings for his sister had changed at all from what was normal and right; but he felt as if ANY reaction by him to her presence might alarm HER with some apparent change.

So he feigned sleep as Chilena padded up to his bedside, and as what must have been tears from her eyes fell on his face. He maintained convincing regular breathing as she bent over him and kissed his cheeks.

When she climbed onto the bed beside him, he was glad that she wasn't trying to get _under_ the covers with him; that _would_ have destroyed his composure. But no, her aim was only to settle her head on his chest, moving his sheet only enough to enable this. Then he knew what had brought her here. She had often said that she liked listening to his heartbeat; that was what she was doing now. It was not violating the order about speaking; but she had to know that he _would_ feel her head there, that he _couldn't_ be unaware of her presence. Words being still prohibited, she was asking his forgiveness in this way.

Don't snub her! was his thought now.

So, no longer pretending unconsciousness, and while maintaining the symbolic physical barrier of his covers between them, he lifted the extra width of those covers and flipped it over his sister for her warmth. Then he held her tenderly in his muscular arms, while she wept freshly and profusely onto his chest. Orders were followed, not a word was exchanged; but he cradled her until she fell asleep.

Mustn't leave her here indefinitely, though, he told himself as Chilena's breathing grew regular for real. So after letting her absorb the peace of her conciliatory position, he eventually worked himself and her loose from the covers, got up off his bed, and lifted her in his arms as effortlessly as he might lift Harmony. This could not fail to awaken Chilena; but when she realized what was happening, she simply slid her arms around her brother's neck and let him carry her back to her own room. There they kissed once to declare quarrels ended, another time for goodnight, and then he put her back in her own bed and returned to his.

The next morning, Alipang privately felt satisfaction in the fact that nothing occurring the night before had caused him to dream about anything he would be embarrassed to tell anyone.

All was well again between him and his sister.
 
When Alipang next woke, sunlight was penetrating his window blinds, but the house was still quiet. Having showered the night before, he could and did get dressed without leaving his room. Soon he heard the shower running in the upstairs bathroom; then he waited.

After the amount of time Chilena would take to finish bathing and get her own clothes on, there was a gentle tap on his door. He opened it, and sure enough, there she was, in jeans and a blouse again, still keeping the letter of the law by not speaking, but saying plenty by flinging her arms around him and driving him back into the room with the force of her tackle-hug.

Several kisses and many squishy squeezes later, he scooped her up in his arms again, and carried her downstairs. Dad was the first one in the kitchen, Mom having had her hands full with Harmony last night. When he saw the manner of Alipang and Chilena's entrance into the kitchen, he said, "I think the no-talking order can be discontinued now. It looks as if diplomacy has triumphed."

Both teens grinned at their father. Then Chilena, still upheld in her brother's arms, turned to him and broke the silence: "I'm sorry, Al, I'm really really sorry. I was mean to you, mean for no good reason, and it's no one's fault but my own. Please forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you, sweets. I'm not carrying you by the ankles head-down, am I?" Then they kissed, and he added, "I love you, Chil."

"I love you, Al, forever and always and more besides."

Which cleared the air for a cheerful breakfast, at which the two siblings would again sit near each other.

"You have company for the trip to Arlington," Dad announced. "Summer Heron will ride with you, to take a load off of her Mom. So will that boy Dillon Prather; Chilena, you remember him from the museum trip..."

When the time came and Mom rounded up everyone for the educational trip to Arlington National Cemetery, Chilena went out of her way to encourage her brother to sit with his friend-who-was-a-girl, while she sat up front next to Mom. This was to show Alipang that she was resisting her jealousy of Summer, while not yet committing herself to seeming specially fond of Dillon. Dillon did seem like a nice boy, but she would let him show first if HE was interested.


~ ~ END OF PART THREE ~ ~ ​
 
Thank you, Kitty. I will pause in the writing now, to let Nightcrawler_Fan look over what I've got here, so she can decide if she wants to play off of anything of mine in her own related story.
 
~ ~ ~ Since Nightcrawler_Fan isn't available anyway, and I'm getting nothing but good feedback from readers, I will continue after all. Rachel, be sure you note the time intervals; I am now picking up about eleven months after the Havens family first came to Smoky Lake. Summer and Alipang are both now 13, while Chilena is not far from turning 14.



PART FOUR: THE TWO-STICK FIGHTER

This is not mainly a story about martial arts; but it must be understood that Alipang began studying Escrima under Master Pitik Imada no later than two months after his first arrival in America. Pitik made his income as a tax accountant; the combat classes he taught were given free of charge, to keep himself active and fit, and to encourage self-discipline in youngsters as a community service. The first good friend Alipang made among Pitik's pupils was a boy a bit older than he: Gilberto Costamesa, son of the local police officer who had dealt with the Heron family in the aftermath of Nick Heron's injury by thugs. Gilberto had been in the rather informal Escrima school for three months longer than Alipang; but Gilberto had never been in a fight literally for his life, as Alipang had back in the Philippines.

For a long time, Alipang was restricted to learning unarmed techniques; but when he stepped up to weapons, he proved himself a natural. It was on a Saturday morning in mid-July of 2005, in a class with eleven students present (a big showing for Pitik's modest basement-gym), that a friendly stick match between Alipang and Gilberto showed the younger boy's talent. Using very light plastic batons so that they could strike for contact without causing damage, Alipang out-pointed Gilberto: 23 touches to 14.

"Ay caramba!" exclaimed Gilberto good-naturedly when their master called a halt. "Al, did someone hit Fast Forward on your remote? I never saw anyone but Teacher move so fast!"

The victor shook hands with his opponent, saying, "It comes from catching snakes in Luzon." Most of the other students thought Alipang was joking; but Gilberto, like Master Pitik, knew that Alipang was telling the literal truth. "Teacher, how did we do?" Everyone there noticed the "we;" and those who knew Alipang, knew that he was not saying this to get the Master to say he was better than Gilberto, which was already obvious; rather, he was thinking of his friend and himself as having performed an exercise together.

"You both fought very well," replied Master Pitik. "Each of you can claim success, for each of you did the best I have yet seen from you. I will want both of you to assist me in the Labor Day exhibition." These words brightened the sweaty faces of both boys, who exchanged a jubilant high-five.

Master Pitik was referring to his practice of giving an annual Escrima demonstration for the public at Smoky Lake's grand Labor Day picnic. Alipang had seen the one last year, but all the students joining in it then had been college-aged: three young men and two young women. All of those had moved on to other things by now, leaving Master Pitik to choose fresh faces for this year's display.

The one girl currently in the class, a 17-year-old Japanese girl named Naoko* who was due to be a senior at West High this fall, asked, "Teacher, may I be in the presentation too?"

"If you continue as well as you have been doing, then yes. I always want at least four persons on stage including myself, the better to display sparring. Potentially all of you now present may be included in the event, but the best three of you at least.

"Now, in view of Alipang's excellence this morning, I am going to take him to a level that none of you here have been to." Pitik went to a wall rack which contained a supply of the traditional rattan-wood Escrima batons. Taking four sticks, he handed two to his star pupil. "Stand facing toward me here in front, Alipang, while I face your friends; let the others watch you learning as they watch me teaching. Imitate my ready stance."

Pitik passed his left forearm in front of his abdomen, so that the stick in his left hand reached around beside his right hip. His right hand went up, so that the stick it held pointed back above his right shoulder. As soon as Alipang had assumed the same pose, Pitik spoke again.

"All of you have studied only singlestick so far. There is plenty that you can do with one stick. Doubling up weapons does no good if you only hit yourself. But if you _can_ make both your hands work without collisions, you can overwhelm an opponent with your constant blows. Here is the beginning; Alipang, do as I do."

Alipang was able to follow the actions fairly well, because Master Pitik began slowly, and the boy had seen this exercise before. Left-hand stick across from right to left...right-hand stick down...go to mirror image of the starting position...right-hand stick across from left to right...left-hand stick down, and so on. Pitik went on repeating the pattern, making it faster by imperceptible increments, faster, faster, until he judged that Alipang was in danger of hitting himself, at which point he said "Stop. Young man, we'll have you doing this well enough for an audience before Labor Day."

* Named after an actual Japanese girl who was tutored in English by my Mary when we lived in Japan.
 
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Smoky Lake had a second-run cinema, called Better Late Than Never. On the afternoon of the same Saturday as Alipang's Escrima triumph, Chilena, who was now permitted daytime outings with groups including approved boys, was at Screen Number Two of the cinema with a group including both Katon siblings...and the nearest thing to a boyfriend Chilena had yet known, Dillon Prather. Dillon's behavior on the field trip to Arlington Cemetery had made a good impression on Dr. and Mrs. Havens, and even on Chilena's vigilant brother; so now Dillon sat with Chilena, two rows above the other kids, watching Star Wars, Episode Three: Revenge of the Sith. By the time Yoda took command of the combined Clone-and-Wookee force in the battle on the lake, Dillon had Chilena's right hand in his left.

Chilena felt glad that Alipang was NOT at the movie, having instead gone with his church buddies Pete Gordon and Grant Perry to do unpaid odd jobs for an elderly couple as "neighborhood missionaries" for their church. If Alipang had been in the cinema, even at a distance, Dillon might not have dared to hold Chilena's hand; in that case, Chilena would have missed not only the thrill of a boy acting interested in her, but the reassurance of a certain comparison. That is, now she knew for certain that _this_ feeling and the feeling of affection between her and Alipang _were_ apples and oranges, not in competition. She genuinely liked hugging and kissing her brother, and would not cease to find it pleasing; but it was pleasing in a different _way_ from what she was now getting a little taste of with Dillon. So she knew that her promise to Alipang could be kept: their love would still exist even if and when both siblings found spouses, for the one love did not exclude the other.

Which led her to recall a thought she had had last winter. If Summer Heron ever became Alipang's all-out _girlfriend,_ Chilena realized that then she would be _less_ jealous of Summer. For as a romantic partner to Alipang instead of a pal, Summer's role in Alipang's life would be _less_ duplicative of Chilena's.

But that was enough of abstract thinking. It was time to resume enjoying the movie...and enjoying the feel of Dillon's hand around hers, not nearly as taut and hard as Alipang's hand.

When the movie was over and the group was heading out to catch its buses, Chilena and Dillon unknowingly passed by one of the older girls from the farm-looking property where Pastor Stetzer's caroling team had sung that night last December. This was Baeline, or Betsy, Tisdale, and with her was Kim, who had not come out that night to see the carollers. Kim still was getting nowhere finding a boy to her satisfaction; so Baeline, who by her fashion sense and mannerisms had boys practically fighting over her, had foregone having the Saturday night date she could easily have had, in order to get her beloved indie-grunge sister out of the house.

For Kim, the movie went in three phases. First, she was resentful and complaining (against the scriptwriters, not against Betsy whom she loved as much as Betsy loved her) because they didn't let a woman be the most powerful Jedi. But the second stage was not long in coming, as she began to be thrilled with Anakin Skywalker for his brooding sexiness, his daring, his brooding sexiness, his rebellion, his brooding sexiness, his anger, and his brooding sexiness.

The third stage came with a shock, when she realized that Anakin had murdered children in the Jedi Academy. Mace Windu's death had not been enough to shake off the spell of Anakin's brooding sexiness; but children--!

Kim could no longer adore Anakin; but the writers had gone so far out of their way to make Obi-Wan look inferior to Anakin that, as the ending credits rolled, she said to Betsy, "I don't believe it! How _could_ Obi-Wan ever beat Anakin? Not that Anakin deserved to win--but how could he _lose_ when he had so many more mitochlorophylls or whatever they're called?"

Betsy had actually been thinking about the same thing, and had an answer for Kim: "Obi-Wan had self-discipline, and Anakin didn't. Obi-Wan could make more effective use of the power he did have, because he took the hard road of wisdom and self-control."

Kim stared off into space. "Maybe I should be looking for a boyfriend with wisdom and self-control."

Betsy side-hugged Kim before they rose from their seats. "Instead of the dangerously sexy studs? Why, that's _only_ what Mom and I have been telling you for a year."
 
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Chilena had been home from the cinema for a long time before Alipang got back from his church volunteering. The couple whom he, Pete and Grant had helped out, had begged them to stay for supper. Having done so, but having restrained his appetite in view of his hosts' low income, he still was hungry when he came home; so Mom showed him where the leftovers were, and he dished out a second supper for himself, bringing it into the living room where the others had the DVD player on.

They were watching a VeggieTales video, chiefly for Melody's benefit. Chilena was there, a bit bored, but not daring to complain since she had been allowed her cinema excursion today. Melody took advantage of Big Sister's apathy to claim for herself a place close to Alipang, where she treated him to a running commentary on everything Larry, Bob and the other botanical characters were doing. Alipang mulled over in his mind the possibility, now that his English was fluent, of his learning to do vocal imitations of Larry and Bob as another way to amuse Melody--and Harmony, when she would be old enough to comprehend.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Bedtime came for the majority of the household; but having spoken uncommonly little to Alipang during the evening, Chilena donned trouser pajamas, then slipped back downstairs to take up a vigil on the new couch which had recently replaced the worn one (dental business being good). She eagerly hoped that Alipang would come back down looking for her without needing to be prompted.

He did--clad in the combination of T-shirt and light sweatpants which he often wore to bed. As soon as Chilena saw him, her eyes gleamed, and she patted the seat cushion beside her.

Once he was securely parked on the sofa and she was parked on his lap, Chilena set her forehead against his and softly murmured, "I'm so glad you came down. I was afraid you might be mad about something, the way you weren't talking to me."

She could feel, rather than see, how his eyebrows rose at that. "ME not talking to YOU?" He quietly laughed, tightening his arms around her slim waist, which brought the reaction of Chilena's arms tightening around his neck. "I thought it was YOU not talking to ME! Warning, warning, misunderstanding alert! Stand by for emergency quarrel-prevention!" Laughter ensued, followed by kisses, followed by the delayed conversation.

"I was a little afraid to _start_ talking to you," Chilena explained. "I was afraid that _anything_ I said about my time with Dillon would sound as if I was bragging about my being allowed to have a boyfriend when _you're_ not allowed to have a girlfriend yet."

"As for me," said Alipang, cuddling her, "I didn't want to talk about the volunteer job today, because I was afraid that you might think I was bragging about doing deeds of charity while you were having fun."

Chilena rubbed her fair-skinned cheek against his brown one. "So let's agree on penalty-free talk at this meeting; no one's allowed to get mad at anyone;" and they proceeded to talk about everything on their minds. It went on long past the stage of both siblings beginning to yawn; they didn't want to stop conversing and embracing too soon. Chilena didn't want Alipang to feel forgotten because of Dillon; and Alipang didn't want Chilena to think he was jealous of Dillon--whom he himself had approved for her.

Only when fatigue was making them slur words, repeat themselves, and laugh hysterically about nothing, did they decide they both needed to sleep. And Chilena would not get off of her brother's lap till she had listened to his heartbeat once more. Then they stumbled up the stairs clasping hands--each one's free hand grasping a rail for safety; kissed goodnight on the landing, with one more burst of spontaneous laughter; and flopped into their respective beds, each falling asleep instantly.
 
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The next morning was a bittersweet one for the congregation at Redemption Free Church. Their worship leader of the past three years, Jim Castle, was leading their songs for the last time this Sunday; he had felt called to accept a position teaching music at a Bible college in Mississippi. Pastor Stetzer presented Jim with a farewell gift in the name of the whole church: a new guitar, which had a remembrance plaque built into its body.

A black lady named Shavonda Moore would be taking over as worship leader next Sunday; Alipang learned that Grant Perry and his guitar would be joining Shavonda's enlarged worship team. "You could do that, too, you're a singer," Alipang whispered to Chilena; but she replied, "I'll have to outgrow my stage fright first."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


The Tisdale family was not going to any church that morning--except for Sharon, whose new boyfriend had persuaded her to visit his. Kim, however, was trying to figure out on her own what was the spiritual application of the song "Winter" by Tori Amos....

Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens;
Wipe my nose, get my new boots on.
I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter;
I put my hand in my fathers glove.

I run off where the drifts get deeper;
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown.
I hear a voice: 'You must learn to stand up for yourself,
Cause I can't always be around....

The song's image of a supportive, loving father stabbed her--not for the first time--as she recalled her own father, and the suddenness with which he had bailed out from love and responsibility. But it was not too hard to transfer the paternal imagery to a Heavenly Father, as in "--Who art in Heaven." Whatever might have been on Tori Amos' mind when writing this song, for Kim Tisdale it rang true to identify it with God. Yes, a _masculine_ God, despite Kim's adoration of girl-power icons like Xena.

And the more she thought about it, the LESS attraction she felt to the Earth-Mother paganism into which some online friends had been trying to lure her.
 
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Since Dillon's family was inviting Chilena to lunch after church, it seemed to Eric and Cecilia Havens like a good time to invite Summer and her mother to the Havens house for lunch. Not having spent much time together lately, Summer and Alipang were both pleased.

After eating, Mrs. Heron was given free rein to vent her troubles to her hosts. Summer, already knowing the troubles only too well, was allowed to go outdoors with Alipang, Melody and a frisbee.

After a long session playing three-cornered catch--in which Summer was impressed by the skill with which her friend could make the frisbee fly directly to Melody's little hand (after which the child would make a feeble throw to Summer, who had to go pick it up)--Alipang showed her the treehouse in which he and Chilena had spent many happy hours, especially in their first summer here. "Can we go up in it now?" Summer asked.

"_You_ can go up," Alipang replied; "but Melody isn't allowed to be up there yet, and there would be saline liquid output from the lacrimal ducts of the most juvenile member of our assembly in the event of her being solitary on terra firma."

Summer smiled, impressed again. "You've collected a LOT of new vocabulary since you moved here!"

"Homeschooling will do that," said Alipang.

Summer did climb into the treehouse, where she waved down to Alipang and Melody...then sat still for a minute, thinking of what it must have been like for Al and Chil to have their fun up here....TOGETHER. It was not the first or last time Summer would be sad about having no siblings. At least she had Al's friendship, when Chilena's neurotic possessiveness of him would let Summer _have_ a share of his attention.

She descended, and the carefree frisbee tossing resumed.
 
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Rainclouds began gathering, so the three frisbee athletes retreated indoors. By returning to her Mommy, Melody freed Alipang and Summer to get in some visiting time up in Alipang's room. Here Alipang showed her the pair of rattan Escrima sticks Master Pitik had given him.

"Two at once: can you do that?" Summer asked.

"Not in a fight yet. I fought with ONE stick sometimes, back on the island, but never two at once. You have to get to where you won't hit one of your own arms with the stick in the other hand. _Real_ Escrimadors can fight with two _swords_ in their hands and never cut themselves. But here, at least I can show you the coordination exercise." He held the sticks in the starting position, then began the rhythmic left-right movement he had been taught. "Doing this is not the same as fighting, of course; but it sort of clears the road for learning two-stick sparring."

"Can I try that?" asked Summer. Alipang had no objection, provided she was not near anything breakable. She did not take long at all to begin moving her hands and the sticks properly.

"That's good!" said Alipang. "You should join my class!"

For a moment their eyes met, and neither knew what to say next. It was Summer who broke the awkward moment. "My Mom needs me to do things for her so often, she wouldn't want me making a commitment to regular lessons. But Sergeant Costamesa did something nice during the winter: he brought Mom and me to the sheriff's-police gym that our city cops also use, and taught us some self-defense moves."

Alipang smiled, but not mockingly. He didn't have it in him to be cruelly mocking to a friend. "Should I be scared?"

A sudden impulse took charge of Summer. Why on Earth _shouldn't_ she be allowed, just once, to enjoy some of the same gently boisterous fun with Al that Al's sister enjoyed with him? She put the Escrima sticks down well out of the way before answering his question. She placed herself so that he was between her and his bed. Her attractive features were brightened by an impish smile. "No, you shouldn't be scared...unless you're afraid of THIS!!"--and she dived into Alipang with head lowered, throwing her arms around his waist in the hardest tackle she could manage.

If he had been ready for this, she would have had no more chance of knocking him down than she would have of bench-pressing four hundred pounds. But he was totally surprised, and her tackle bounced both of them onto and off of his bed. As they tumbled to the floor, Alipang recognized the invitation to play, and play he did, wrapping his own arms around his friend-who-was-a-girl for a lively bout of hug-wrestling.

Only while they were tumbling and rolling on the floor did Summer fully realize just how easily such play _could_ change into something else. But almost as quickly, she realized that Al wasn't _letting_ it make that fateful change. He could have pinned her beneath him with ease; instead, he kept them turning over and over in each other's arms, letting her be on top at least half of the time...and _never_ coming to a complete halt that would find them in a tight embrace on the floor with their faces close together.

Even as she continued wrestling with Al--and the realization of how he was handling it made her enjoy the affectionate struggle even more--Summer thought inwardly, For a boy who's never had a girlfriend, he has amazing alertness against letting things go too far. How is that? Of course! He has no girlfriend; but what he _does_ have....is a sister.

Eventually, Al made a "tremendous effort" which "violently" set her down on his chair, a safely neutral position for her. Then, pretending to gasp and pant with exhaustion, he said, "What a....tremendous...battle.....Can we...call it...a draw?"

Making sure her clothes weren't alarmingly mussed, Summer nodded. "Hey, Al...have I told you lately that you're an awesome guy?"

"If you did, I'm sure I would have replied that you're an awesome girl."

One more warm glance passed between them; and then they went back downstairs, their friendship intact.

They never wrestled each other again, and they never spoke of the one time they had done it; but neither of them felt that any harm had been done by wrestling just once.
 
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Not long after the weekend of Alipang's triumph, Chilena's quasi-date, and Summer's "tremendous battle" with Alipang, things reached their high-water mark for Dillon and Chilena. They were allowed to go, _just_ the two of them, on bicycles out to Lakeshore Park, site of the city's annual picnic, with a picnic lunch of their own in backpacks. This occurred on a weekday; one advantage of homeschooling was its flexibility about schedules. Arriving after a vigorous ride of more than five miles one way, they watched sailboats on the lake whose name their town bore, the lake being wide enough for modest non-powered boating. They saw a pair of grandparents flying a kite for the entertainment of some very small grandchldren; Dillon gave Chilena pushes on a swing; they ate the sandwiches she had made; they talked about their families--but Chilena said little about her brother, because she had already observed a tendency for other boys to find Alipang intimidating.

And eventually, seated on one of the occasional benches to be found in Lakeshore Park, Chilena for the first time in her brief life enjoyed a genuine openly-romantic-type KISS from Dillon. He didn't overdo it, so there was nothing to spoil the moment. Soon they started for home, both feeling that it couldn't get better than this. At a pause to rest, within half a mile of the Havens house, Chilena--feeling herself somewhat "trained" for this by all her affectionate play with her brother--initiated a second kiss of her own accord. Really a kiss and a half: she to his cheek, then he to her lips. They were glad she was not wearing any telltale lipstick.

The last half mile on the bicycles was marked by talk of how they would go on "proper" dates once Dillon was old enough to drive. Chilena, who had taken some photos of the excursion (including getting the kite-flyers to shoot one of Dillon and her together), was enshrining this day as one of the happiest of her life. Forty-nine percent of her desperately wanted to tell everything to Alipang; but fifty-one percent of her desperately wanted him _never_ to know. It was not that she expected Al to be jealous, nor to chase off Dillon for kissing her; she was certain that Al would not regard the boy as having done wrong. But she simply choked at the thought of telling _anyone_ about that kissing.

Al's opinion of her date was not at once forthcoming. When she came in, he was online at the family computer, intently researching a report for Professor Mom on the subject of the gas-giant planets and their assorted moons. He routinely did more summertime studying than Chilena; and he had been applying himself to this today in order to resist thoughts of biking out to spy on his sister. She, guessing that he didn't want her to feel interrogated, gave him only a passing hello before she began preparing supper--which had been a set price for allowing her to go out with Dillon.

That night, when the house was still, Alipang sat on the living-room couch alone, ostensibly watching television. He had not actually _said_ to Chilena, "Let's have a downstairs meeting tonight," but he expected her to want to tell him about her date.

She didn't show. She _knew_ where he was, because his bedroom door was standing ajar to reveal that room's emptiness; but she still didn't want to go down and tell him everything. Even though she was certain Al would not object to anything that had gone on with Dillon...she just was not yet ready for things to _change_ between herself and her brother. It did not occur to her that refusing him a late-night talk was _more_ of a disruption than it would have been to talk to him about the boyfriend he was already okay with her having.

Al fell asleep on the couch with the TV still on. Dad found him in the morning, but had no particular comment.
 
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