Catherine's not in her room, so I go downstairs to look for her. As childish as it may sound, wishing her good night has been my habit for far too long to give up on it now. I move silently, unwilling to disturb the quiet of the dark house, interrupted only by the occasional dripping of water in the kitchen. Raven must be asleep already, too. Lately, he's been going to bed early.

I find Catherine on the sofa in the living room, her eyes closed, probably lulled to sleep by the table clock ticking nearby. I stop next to her, considering if I should wake her up or just cover her with some blanket. From where I stand, I can see a corner of the kitchen counter with the dishes drying on the rack.

"I told you."

I look down and find her smiling at me sleepily.

"I told you he would eventually do his chores."

"Yeah, right." I roll my eyes. "Won’t you go to bed?"

"Nah, I'm too cozy here." She yawns. "Just throw that quilt over me, will you?"

I pick a quilt up from the armchair and cover her with it.

"Oh, and Jamie," she mutters, her eyes already closed. "I forgot to remind you, Raven's Birthday is this Friday. You should get him something. He's been such a good boy. You need money?"

"Nope, I still have my summer cash." Almost two thousand dollars left from my lawns mowing days that provide me with some independence when small expenses are required. "Good night."

"Night, sweetie."

I go back upstairs. There's no light under Raven's door. I suppress the urge to check on him. I did that a few times during the last few nights, and every time I found him in his bed, his mop of thick black hair resting on his pillow. Such inspections feel less necessary now. Perhaps he has indeed changed for the best, like Catherine said. Maybe I do need to show some support by getting him a Birthday present, maybe a "Fake Drug" cap or something, since he's so crazy about them.

I get into my bed and turn my bedside lamp off. I pull my blanket up to my chin, listening to the silence. It feels peaceful again, now that Raven is less confrontational. I smile to myself. Maybe the talk I had with him did help. Maybe he has understood something.

A muffled sound makes me freeze.

A window latch.

In Raven's room.

I roll out of my bed, my feet tangling in my blanket. I free myself, cursing under my breath. My heart beats fast, the first waves of anger circulating through my body. Is he trying to sneak out again?

I get out into the corridor and stop, listening. It's quiet now, but there's a thin line of light under his door. I walk over and try to turn the doorknob. It's locked from the inside. I frown. He's not allowed to lock it. I don't think he ever did before.

"Raven," I growl, shaking the doorknob. "Open it."

There's movement inside the room, but no answer.

"Open now," I hiss, "or I will break this damn door, and I will tell Catherine what you've been --"

The doorknob turns under my fingers and I let go of it. The door opens and Raven looks at me with one eye, rubbing the other with his hand.

"What happened?" he says.

I look past him into the room. The nightstand lamp is on, and there are books and notepads spread on his bed. The window is closed.

"What's the fuss, James?" He walks back to his bed and plops onto it, picking up a pencil. He's wearing the strawberries pajamas Catherine has given him on his first day here. They look ridiculously cute on him, making him seem like a kid half his age, and create a bizarre contrast to the hard rock posters decorating his walls.

"I was just…" I rub my forehead. "I thought you were asleep."

"So, you decided to barge in and fix that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"No, but… It's kind of late. What are you doing?"

He shrugs. "I went to bed, but then I remembered that I had to finish an assignment." He nods at one of the notepads.

"Why did you lock the door?"

"Because you have developed this tendency to burst in uninvited." He holds my gaze, unperturbed. "Do you think I don't hear you check on me when you think I'm asleep?"

My cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

"What did you do with the window?"

"I closed it. It was cold." Then, a look of understanding dawns on his face. "Oh, James…you heard the window? You thought I was --"

"No, no," I say, taken aback by his wounded expression. "You're okay. My bad. Sorry. Good night."

"Night." He follows me with his eyes as I step out of the room, closing the door.

I pause in the corridor, cringing with embarrassment. This was ridiculous, bursting in on him like that. And by the look of things, he didn’t do anything wrong. Why can’t I just relax around him, to take it easier on him? Maybe show him more encouragement. What would I feel like if I tried to change my ways but people around didn't believe in my intentions?

And then, suddenly, I know exactly what I should do for him. It's crazy but's it's also so perfect that the moment the idea appears I know it will be done.