>> ”Well, usually it’s a coffee bean that’s coated in chocolate, but they still look like they’re something tasty, like chocolate covered peanuts.”

Chase grimaced and stuck his tongue out at the notion, giving a fake shudder at that notion. He'd have to be more careful about picking up nondescript chocolates. They could be coffee in disguise.

>> ”It’s cool Chase. I bet that I’ve got songs older than you on there. Here, this is my brother’s favorite.”

Chase listened to the song attentively, perching on the stool and listening attentively. He balanced himself on his hands whilst Locke dipped a pretzel into the fudge mix.

"In the town where I was born,
Lived a man who sailed to sea,
And he told us of his life,
In the land of submarines, "

Chase blinked. Land of submarines? He listened closer.

"So we sailed on to the sun,
Till we found the sea green,
And we lived beneath the waves,
In our yellow submarine,"

The eight-year-old grinned at this, and giggled as the song went into the chorus. They lived in submarines?! Fantastic! He continued grinning as he shifted his weight, and turned to watch Locke work.

"Can I try dipping something in?" Chase inquired.

The Beatles officially ruled. How many generations away was Chase from the first fans? Locke could tell that Chase was digging it. There was that same look of “Oh I like this!” that happened whenever his friend Eaan was introduced to a new song. The songs were just too catchy, even if you were too young to get any meaning behind the words. ”Sure, you can dip something in, but you gotta answer a question first,”

His little brother and sister had tried to pull the wool over Locke’s eyes many times before. They would come saying that they were hungry, wanting him to give them sort of sugary sweet, be it chocolate or a fruit roll-up. Every time he questioned if it was a candy hunger or a meal hunger. If they turned down a healthy snack, then they weren’t hungry enough to have a Snickers. ”Are you sure it was your candy sense and not a grilled cheese sandwich craving in disguise?” Making the kid a sandwich was no big deal. The butter was out already for it, and that was one of the three ingredients.

>> ”Sure, you can dip something in, but you gotta answer a question first,”

"Oh, okay," Chase agreed readily. He was a smart kid. He figured Locke was going to throw a math question at him, or something. Older people liked to do that-- randomly quiz kids with math or spelling, just because they felt like it. Chase put his hands in his lap to show that he was ready for whatever question Locke threw his way.

>> ”Are you sure it was your candy sense and not a grilled cheese sandwich craving in disguise?”

Chase grinned at the inquiry. He wasn't of the sort that mindset where candy to precedence over food of actual sustenance. He liked to be fed, and wasn't too particular about what he ate.

"I was just hungry," Chase answered genuinely, "But if I get candy to eat, all the better."

There were few moments when Locke felt like he was in total control of the situation. Surrounded by the earth was one, but the times when the teen was his most confident involved kids. Locke just knew that Chase hadn't come into the kitchen only because of the prospect of candy. He hadn't even opened a bag of marshmallows before the shrimp came in. "No fudge until after you eat a sandwich," Locke ruled. Kids needed to eat more than just cupfuls of sugar, chocolate, and melted butter. Such a diet led to round bodies that had to be rolled out the door.

Taking out two slices of bread he handed them to Chase. "Want to make it?" he asked the boy. A grilled cheese sandwich was pretty basic, and if the boy was careful, something that he could make without having someone hover over his shoulder the entire time. A butter knife was provided to the small kid and the tub of butter slid over. "I'll supervise, make sure that you're safe. You start by buttering the bread on one side."

>> "No fudge until after you eat a sandwich."

Good. Chase didn't have the patience to wait for the fudge to be ready. He'd have a sandwich to hold him over, and then he'd get fudge to go with it.

>> "Want to make it?"

But before Chase could answer, two slices of bread were deposited in his hands. Chase had never made a grilled-cheese sandwich before, to be entirely honest, but he was indescribably independent.

"Sure," Chase agreed, surveying the two pieces of bread. It couldn't have been too hard, if Locke was trusting Chase to be able to do it. A butter knife was passed to him, and a tub over butter was placed in Chase's proximity.

>> "I'll supervise, make sure that you're safe. You start by buttering the bread on one side."

Chase could butter bread. He set the slices of bread down on the counter, and pried open the tub of butter. Chase then began to lightly butter one side of one slice of bread. He did that, then looked back at Locke, picking up the second piece of bread as if to butter it, too.

Locke didn't say not to, so Chase did.

As Chase buttered the bread Locke grabbed the smallest possible frying pan. Sometimes the butter spit up hot grease as you grilled a sandwich. A smaller frying pan would help to keep that from happening to the kid, since the bread would be taking up most of the heating space. Also the more space the sandwich took up in the pan, the less room there was for a little hand to slip in and burn fingers. Safety was a big issue when it came to cooking, and Locke was trying to get Chase to like cooking.

"Are you a one slice or a two slice of cheese guy?" Locke asked once he had set the frying pan down on the stove top. There usually was a few different types of sliced deli cheese in the fridge. Swiss, pepperjack, and of course the humble American. Well, Swiss cheese had holes in it, so there was less cheese in the sandwich, and pepperjack had a kick to it. American it was. Chase informed Locke that he was a one slice person. "I'm a two slice guy myself. Pepperjack usually, maybe sprinkle some garlic salt on the bread. When you get to be my age, anything tastes good."

He turned the heat on the burner under the small frying pan and grabbed a spatula for Chase. "Ok, I want you to hold this with both hands when you're near the frying pan alright? I'll hold the pan, but you're going to do the flipping."

>> "Are you a one slice or a two slice of cheese guy?"

"One," Chase mumbled, watching as Locke retrieved a frying pan.

>> "I'm a two slice guy myself. Pepperjack usually, maybe sprinkle some garlic salt on the bread. When you get to be my age, anything tastes good."

"I like yellow cheese," Chase murmured. He had never tried the other cheeses, some of which was white, "Or the yellow-and-white-speckled cheese." He didn't know technical names for cheese, he just new that he liked those kinds. Chase didn't know half of what Locke had said about ingredients.

>> "Ok, I want you to hold this with both hands when you're near the frying pan alright? I'll hold the pan, but you're going to do the flipping."

Chase took the spatula into his hands, and looked down at the bread and the lone slice of cheese. Obviouslly the bread would go on the outside, the cheese would go in the middle, but... Chase looked towards Locke.

"Okay...?" he breathed, "What now?"

Watching the food network had given Locke knowledge about some cheeses. Nothing extravagant. He couldn’t identify any with his eyes closed other than his favorite, pepper jack, taco, and Velveeta. The teen didn’t even know what countries were suppose to be the best ones to get cheese from, though he thought it might be Denmark. In his mind he could see that yellow and white cheese that Chase described. Grocery stores sold it in blocks didn’t they? There was sharp and extra sharp cheeses, and Chase’s was one of them. ”Do you think the different colors taste different? Like the white bits taste like one kind of cheese and the yellow another one?” Locke asked, keeping the conversation light.

Yellow Submarine ended, and May by James Durbin started. A beautiful song, and one that didn’t so much tug at his heartstrings as pulled with all its might. ”Skip to next song,” Locke spoke into his laptop and the song halted, jumping ahead to Aqua’s Barbie Girl. Although the song had some suggestive lyrics, Locke felt that it was safe for Chase to hear it. He probably wouldn’t even think of anything other than the plastic toy. That and the song was so stupid and annoying that it was catchy and he just didn’t have the will power to skip to something else.

Locke twisted the frying pan so that he could hold onto the handle and be able to pull it safely away from Chase in case of accident. ”First slice of bread goes in butter side down. Unless there’s something between the pan and bread it’ll burn. The butter is what makes it that golden color.” Locke explained, putting the bread on the pan for Chase, ”Then comes your cheese. Then on top of that, the last piece of bread. This time, butter side up. Know why?”

>> ”Do you think the different colors taste different? Like the white bits taste like one kind of cheese and the yellow another one?”

"Kind of," Chase mused, adopting an intellectual tone as they discussed the flavors of specific cheeses, "But the yellow cheese tastes stronger than the white one, so the speckled cheese and the yellow cheese tastes similar enough."

>> ”Skip to next song.”

The computer obeyed, and Chase looked up with wide eyes as it switched songs. He froze for a moment, and only returned his attention to the cooking endeavor when Locke spoke once again.

>> ”First slice of bread goes in butter side down. Unless there’s something between the pan and bread it’ll burn. The butter is what makes it that golden color. Then comes your cheese. Then on top of that, the last piece of bread. This time, butter side up. Know why?”

Chase blinked, paused, and hesitantly replied, "Because... I'll flip the sandwich over... right?"

He carefully began to lay the slice of bread down, butter-side down. The griddle hissed at Chase in boisterous protest, yet Chase persisted, and unsheathed the slice of cheese, laid it on the bread, and laid down the final piece of bread, butter facing upwards. Awesome. Chase looked towards Locke for approval.

”That’s right,” Locke praised Chase. For a kid that had never done any cooking before Chase caught on pretty quickly. This sandwich was really going to be made by just by Chase. He was prepping the ingredients, following the recipe, and was armed with the spatula to flip it over. Having Chase make something at least slightly healthy to eat made Locke feel better about having so much sugar and candy about. ”Do you like your grilled cheese burnt black or golden yellow?”

The fudge was slowly cooling now, and Locke didn’t want it to solidify inside the pot. He hadn’t buttered it before hand and didn’t think that the fudge would come out easily. Even if it did that would be a massive hunk of chocolate, more like a solid cake than a tender treat. With a fudge cake any student could go on a massive sugar rush. Images of the younger students, bent over in half with a sour stomach and chocolate covered face, flooded Locke’s mind. He grabbed his spoon quickly and stirred the fudge. How long until it set up? The recipe hadn’t mentioned anything like that.

When Locke was Chase’s age his school sometimes had grilled cheese sandwiches in the cafeteria. At first there was always a bowl of tomato soup that went with it. Since Locke hated cold, the days that the soup and sandwich were offered were his second favorite, with the first being tacos. ”How’s school going?” Locke asked Chase. On Halloween school had been the furthest thing from Locke’s mind, even though it fell on a school night. Halloween was for being scarred and getting candy. He really did want to know how things were going for the kid.

Whether or not the sandwich would be flipped was a matter of logic. For Chase, it had been as good as a stab in the dark.

>> ”That’s right. Do you like your grilled cheese burnt black or golden yellow?”

But he'd guessed right. For this, Chase was praised, and the child smiled victoriously.

"Golden yellow," Chase replied, wriggling the spatula back and forth absently while he waited. The buttered side of tge sandwich hissed against the frying pan.

>> ”How’s school going?"

"It's... different," Chase replied, "There aren't a lot of kids my age here." So few that most of the elementary school-aged children were all lumped together in one class, "But I like it. I have some friends. They're really nice."

Locke had to admit that there weren’t that many kids Chase’s age running around the school. He wondered who even was teaching the little ones. It wasn’t as though they needed to know about physics or alliteration at this point. Teaching someone like Chase had to be easier, not only because Chase was incredibly polite, but because they are young enough to not feel like they know everything. At the same time the risk of being punished held more weight when you’re young. Parents and teachers are more frightening, and you actually care about the principal of the school. By the time he was in middle school Locke didn’t even remember the name of the principal. If you did not teach one of his classes, you didn’t exist.

”Small classes can be good,” Locke told Chase. The grilled cheese sandwich was sizzling, sounding as delicious as it was sure to be. Grilled cheese was one of the two classic sandwiches for a childhood and one of the guaranteed to eat baby sitting dishes. ”You can flip it now if you want. Anyways, I had big classes when I was your age. Thirty something kids, and when I knew the right answer the teacher never called on me. It was only when I didn’t know something that they noticed me.”

Big classes had big problems. Teachers, from Locke’s experience, were worn too thin. As a result of this all students start to blend together. Things got even worse if your teachers had multiple class periods throughout the day. There was always a point in the day where they just didn’t care anymore. The most unfortunate experience Locke had with that was when he had math for his final class of the day. His teacher no longer wanted her students to learn anything, and could not understand his simple request that she explain a term in simpler words. Unfortunately the rest of the year’s work hinged upon understanding that one concept. On the plus side he got a slightly better grade simply because he didn’t talk in class. ”Any subjects hard for you?”

>> ”Small classes can be good... You can flip it now if you want. Anyways, I had big classes when I was your age. Thirty something kids, and when I knew the right answer the teacher never called on me. It was only when I didn’t know something that they noticed me.”

Chase awkwardly wedged the spatula under the sandwich at Locke's command, and flipped the thing over, listening as Locke explained how small classes could be a good thing. Chase politely disagreed. He didn't like small classes in the least.

"I don't like it when the teacher calls on me," Chase mumbled. He didn't like talking in class. And of course, once his teachers figured out that he was actually a relatively bright child, they seemed more inclined to call upon him when nobody else in the class was getting the right answer. Chase didn't like the limelight, in that respect. He was all about blending into his environment.

>> ”Any subjects hard for you?”

"History," Chase answered, lifting his attention from the sandwich to the older boy, "English. I'm really good at math, though-- I can do multiplication tables up to ten-times-ten. What subjects are hard for you?"

The teen smiled. Several kids didn't like to be called on in class, and Locke understood why. Having a brain that actually worked wasn't a good thing with your peers. Nobody wants to be a brain. "I've got problems with my math. It got too hard for me once the numbers starting hiding as letters. I can tell you a trick though. Anything times ten is going to be that number with a zero after it, like two times ten is two zero. Ten times eleven is going to be eleven zero." It was about the only trick that Locke knew for multiples in numbers past twelve. Math was just going to be one of those subjects that Locke would always have issues with. His mind functioned based upon logic, but math made no sense.

History and English he could do though. Locke enjoyed writing, so essays held no fear to him, and reading wasn't bad either. As far as history went, well, his father was to blame for that. He had read Locke Don Quixote, and when Locke protested the point in which the story repeated itself, Hugo explained how important history was. "You know, your hardest classes are my favorites. Funny huh? If you need it, I could help you."

Just as Locke knew how dumb it was to answer a question in class, he knew how having someone who actually understood a subject help out with homework was. At first he had depended upon his dad to get him through math. Now he relied on Eaan's help to get a slightly better grade on his homework. Chase's history class was probably not that complicated compared to Locke's, so the teen was confident that he could help the boy out.

"They have math with letters?" Chase gasped. That sounded really confusing. How could they add a letter? That sounded an awful lot like English to him. Chase shuddered at the notion that math could one day be profaned with English... then again, there was always word problems, "That sounds like English."

Locke then offered to help Chase with his History and English, and Chase smiled at the offer, "I'd like that."

He glanced back down at the grilled-cheese sandwich, which sizzled and crackled on the pan as it grilled, and Chase watched closely, his stomach growling quietly at the promise of food. Locke stepped away for a moment to retrieve a small plate, and in his rumbling voice, announced that it was okay to remove the sandwich. Chase carefully wedged the spatula beneath the grilled-cheese sandwich, and with the same amount of carefulness, slid the sandwich onto the plate.