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I was surprised at not being the first car in the parking lot on the second practice session. On the third, I realized that a trend was forming. We practiced on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. Being a farming community meant most people were flexible in dealing with the practice times. The McAllisters arrived half an hour before the camp officially started with the intent of helping set up the field gear. Kisa's work at the factory had something of a flexible schedule, so long as her hours were put in she could start her shift early and head out early, or she could go in late and stay later if needed. I had a similar arrangement with the schools, especially during early summer when there were only maintenance tasks or the occasional emergency when something broke.

Jenna looked at me to confirm she had set the cones in a straight line and with proper spacing. She was literally bouncing with excitement, and after I gave a thumbs up, she took off running across the field. The nine year old demi-human and her mother are felines, each having shiny white fur with back spots, a long spotted tail ending in a black tip, and rounded triangular ears. Jenna sped past, having completed a lap around the field at a full out run and was working on her second. Her tiny whiskers were pressed back against her muzzle, her ears were back too, and her tail streamed behind as she raced ahead.

Kisa had finished up with the second goal and was walking towards me. While her daughter had on the mandatory soccer uniform, yes the Atlanta jersey was mandatory as far as Jenna was concerned, Kisa had changed from her work attire to a loose fitting blue tee shirt and relaxed fit shorts. In the short time that I'd known them, I quickly learned a few things. One of which was that demis generally dislike anything too tight fitting, and this included shoes, since it tends to rub at their fur. Jenna needed her specialty cleats for playing in, every player had to protect their feet and shins. Kisa had both work and causal shoes as well, just in case some place had a dress code or a social function required them. Out on the field though, she preferred to be barefoot. Like her hands, her feet reminded me of a cat's paw as she moved. Her toes spread out with each step and her claws just barely appeared at the end of her stride. These she had painted blue, the same shade as the claws of her hands. They matched the color of her eyes nicely.

“She's been like this every practice since the first," there was a happiness in her voice, the love for her daughter apparent as she spoke. “Honestly, I had my reservations about moving here. Atlanta wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but we weren't the only ones of our kind there." Her tail swayed at a measured pace while she watched Jenna bound around the field, the soccer ball getting punted yards ahead each time she made contact with it.

I'd heard about some of the troubles there. While there were large scale incidents, protesters and counter-protesters often clashed, sometimes violently, the more concerning troubles were the smaller scale things. An attack on a single person or family was all too common. The larger communities provided a sort of a safety in numbers, “Aren't there decent sized demi neighborhoods in New York and San Francisco too?"

Her ears went back and she shifted her gaze towards me, “Those are the bigger ones, yes, but they'd be no better than Atlanta. Too many people, and too many of those are angry at us for just being alive." She ended the statement flatly with a little sigh.

I could only guess as to what her family faced. As a society, we tend to forget the lessons of the past too easily when faced with someone different or new. It happened with gender, race, orientation… The demis are just the latest in a long line of people still dealing with these issues.

Her ears swiveled, catching the sound of the Harrisons' minivan well before I could hear anything, “But enough about that. You, Mr Kerrington, or would you rather I call you Coach, have a camp to run."

I groaned a bit, giving her a 'not you too' sort of look, “Fine, out here, Coach. Anywhere else, Todd. The kids have to use Mr Kerrington in school, but it sounds like I should be scooting along with a walker." She clearly found my narrative amusing, barely able to contain her mirth at my continued grumbling about tennis ball ends and hiked up pants.

“It's a deal then, Coach," there was a small chuckle at using my title, “so long as you refrain from any more Mrs McAllisters. I've said as much, it's Kisa, so long as I'm off work that is." She folded her arms across her chest in a motion that signaled a finality to the issue.

I shook my head, any verbal sparring was bound to end badly for me at this point, and if a first name basis was what she wanted, it was fine by me. I walked over to the van, the kids piling out as soon as the car came to a stop. Bess Harrison followed shortly behind carrying several sport bags along with a camp chair and a serious expression. “George sends his hello, couldn't make it today though, tractor broke." The woman was a flurry of activity all by herself. Before she even set her seat down, the cell phone was out and she was calling another parts store.

George was a father figure to many in the community, the man had helped nearly everyone in town at least twice. We had an agreement of sorts. When it came to plumbing or carpentry, he'd lend me a hand. Computers and anything tech related, and I'd swing by his place. Cars and tractors were somewhere in the middle, so I was surprised that he hadn't called me earlier.

By the time the kids were done with their stretches, Mrs Harrison finally set her phone down, a look of exhaustion on her face. I looked back to the kids with my hand raised high and in moments the chatter slowed and all their hands were raised too. “Alight, this time we're going to switch it up a bit. We'll be using four rows, two for each pair. The left cones are for are A, the right for B. First we dribble between the cones, weaving just like usual. At the end of the cones, pass it to your partner and they'll bring it back along through their cones. Kate and Perry will demonstrate, then the rest of you can start."

I watched as the drills were started, making sure the kids had the hang of it, then turned and walked over to the sidelines, “Hey, I'll give George a hand after practice."

“Nope. He said not to bother you on practice day. It's why he didn't call." Bess gave a exasperated sigh, “Besides, I got a half hour drive to pick the part up. Store'll be closed before I can drop the kids off and get there."

I took a quick glance back at the players, “I could watch them here, if it'd help. Just have them run a few more drills."

Mrs Harrison shook her head, “Can't. Kate's gotta be home for that on-line class."

“I'll go," Kisa had been listening to the whole thing and had come up with a workable solution to the logistics issue. Bess couldn't go, I needed to be here to coach, and most of the other parents had schedules and long drives back to their homes. “I'll talk it over with Jenna, but she should be fine if she stays with Coach until I get back, if you're OK with that." She had turned to me, making sure I was fine with the idea of watching over her daughter.

I gave a little shrug, I'd just offered to watch over four of Bess's kids and Jenna listened better than at least two of them, “Sure thing, so long as she's fine with it."

Kisa gave a quick nod turned back to Mrs Harrison, “I'll just need the address for the store and for you to arrange for me to pick it up."

Almost before Kisa could finish the explanation Bess had her phone back out again, “Oh, honey, bless you." She punched the numbers back in, flatly refusing to use the 'recents' tab on her phone in spite of me showing it to her several times. At the last attempt, she just looked at me with the stare that said enough and to let it drop. Technology wasn't her strong point and she knew how to dial a number, that was all she needed. “Hi, Bill. Yes, look I'm busy, but a friend's stopping by to pick it up." She waited for a moment, my guess is he was getting something to write the information down with, “OK, her name's Kisa McAllister. Oh, you'll know her when you see her. She's a demi, Bill, feline." Bess rolled her eyes and repeated, “A demi. Feline."

I could almost hear the man on the other side asking “What again?"

“Damn it, Bill, she's a cat woman," the usually level headed Mrs Harrison uttered a few things under her breath, “Yes, Bill, like on the TV." Now she was rubbing her temples, “No, Bill, I don't think so. Yes, uh-huh, about forty minutes. Yes, on my husband's account." A look of relief spread over her face, “Alright. Thanks, Bill."

The phone was set down and the tension visibly drained from the woman's features. After a moment of relaxation, she took a short, sharp breath, stood up, then hugged Kisa. People around here, especially motherly figures like Mrs Harrison, weren't reserved when it came to hugs. Not in the slightest.

Kisa stiffened for a second, ears set at odd angles from surprise at the sudden contact, and looked at me for assistance. I shrugged and made a motion suggesting she return the hug. I wasn't sure if Kisa was just awkward around humans or if she just wasn't used to public displays of affection outside of family members, but I decided she needed an out.

“Bess, she's gotta go talk to Jenna," I had just put myself square in the firing sights.

Mrs Harrison let go of Kisa and patted her on the shoulder, “He's right, go have a chat." Then she rounded on me, “And you, since when did you ever get permission to call me that? It's Mrs Harrison, thank you very much." She sat back down in the chair glaring at me, “Used to baby sit you, you know." It was generally good natured joking between us, but there was a part of her that absolutely hated any lapse in my manners, and she knew it was an easy trigger point just as much as I did. If I laughed or pointed anything out, I'd be hearing it all the next week and then some. So rather than tempt fate, I turned my attention back to the field as Mrs Harrison fumed behind me.

“… so you'll be with Mr Coach the entire time." Kisa was still explaining what the plan was to her intently listening daughter. “I'll only be a little past when practice normally lets out, so can you do this for me and Mrs Harrison?"

Jenna looked at me and for a moment her ears went back as a look of worry crept across her face. It wasn't long before she gave herself a little shake and the apprehension vanished, “Mmm-Hmm." I'd seen her do that before, some hidden specter reared up only to be squashed by the determined girl. Whatever haunted her, she should be rewarded for besting it, so I'd have to think of something to make the extra bit of time fun.

Kisa gave her daughter a hug then sent her off back to the other kids. As she walked back to the sidelines, she was visibly stiff, anxious even. She stopped in front of me, her eyes locked with mine. Whatever ghosts Jenna wrestled with, Kisa probably had one or two that she fought against too. She didn't say anything, deciding in the end to give my shoulder a quick pat before she got the address from Bess and headed out to the auto parts store.

* * *

“Alright, that's all for today. Don't forget, finish off that water. Have a great weekend and I'll see you back on Monday." We'd just finished the 'Go team!' break, and as expected Kisa wasn't back yet. It'd be a good ten to fifteen minutes at least, so the clock on my being the official babysitter started. “OK, Jenna, here, first grab some water. If you're up for it we can do a couple of the normal drills, or we could work on a couple of advanced skills." I pretended like I held the 'drills' in one hand and the 'advanced skills' in the other. “Which one?"

Jenna's eyes drifted to the other cars being packed and leaving the parking lot before she brought them back to the choices. I knew which one she'd pick, just about any kid would want the shiny new skills over the same old boring stuff. She tapped her tiny furred hand against my right one and answered, “Advanced, please, Mr Coach."

I went over to my bag, “OK, one second." I grabbed a water from my bag and downed two advil, then followed that with two more. In about 30 minutes, my knee would be satiated, but for now it'd just have to scream at me. I pulled out my own soccer ball, an older one from my college days that I kept in my bag so I could demonstrate something if needed. It'd be put to use today.

Footwork is one of the primary building blocks of soccer. Having fast feet opens up so many options to a player, it's difficult to overstate how important it is. At nine, Jenna was already gifted with natural talent in this area, so my job was to help show her how to take advantage of it. We went over two moves, the crossover dibble and a two step spin. My own renditions of the moves were slow for demonstration purposes, that and I didn't want to tweak anything in my knee before helping George with his tractor.

By the time Kisa got back, Jenna had the basics of each move down and was moving the ball all over the field using them while I packed up the cones and goals.The car crunching along the gravel announced her mother's return. Jenna looked up at the sound as well and turned to head back to the parking lot with her ball in tow. I grabbed the bag of cones along with one of the goals and was walking back as Kisa stepped out of the car.

Jenna jumped into her mother's waiting arms and Kisa used the momentum to carry her daughter in a little spin, “Did you have fun, honey?"

Jenna pressed her cheek against her mother's, “Mmm-Hmm, and I want you to see what Mr Coach taught me!" She ended the statement with a bit of a giggle and squirmed to get loose.

“OK, but make it quick. Mrs Harrison and her husband still need their part," Kisa said and turned back into the car. Her tail tip stuck out a little ways beyond the edge of the door, waving a bit as she pulled a bag out from the passenger side. “And this is for you," the bag was presented with a smile.

I inspected the bag's contents, a single plain looking box with a few stickers on the sides noting what it was and that it was a remanufactured part, “Ah, water pump. Well, if George has the old one out, it won't be too hard getting this back in. Tractor should be done tonight." I set the bag into the pickup and tossed the cones and goal into the back. “Thanks, Kisa. This really means a lot to Bess and George, me too for that matter. They've helped me out so many times I've lost count."

Kisa flicked an ear in my direction, I think it was her way of letting me know she heard, but her attention was on Jenna's running of the field. Her daughter was showing off now, changing directions quickly with the step over and blasting past imaginary defenders with a spin step. Kisa clapped excitedly, her hand pads making more of a soft thud than that sharp popping noise of a human clap, “Well done!"

Jenna absolutely beamed at the praise and gave an excited little bounce. She made one more spin step before punting the ball towards us and running over with an exuberant smile. I found myself grinning too as Kisa scooped her up in a big hug, the sheer joy between them was infectious. To my surprise I could hear both of them purr, a deep slow rumbling from Kisa mixed with the faster rasps that Jenna made.

It was one of those parent bonding moments that I didn't want to interrupt, so I picked up Jenna's ball and set it in their sedan, then walked back onto the field to grab the last goal. As I bent over to pick up the bag, I heard the thumping of rapidly approaching cleats on the grass, “Oh, did you forget someth.."

It was a good thing I started to turn when I did. I had just enough time to see the bounding feline jumping into me, arms and legs outstretched, tail streaming, and eyes shining. There was only a slight 'Oaf' as she collided with my mid-section, I didn't have the practice at gracefully handling the impact that Kisa did. Jenna looked up at me, whiskers back in the widest smile I'd seen from her yet, “Thanks, Mr Coach!"

This time it was my turn to be out of my element. I looked up at Kisa and she gave me a similar gesture that I made when Mrs Harrison had hugged her. I think she rather enjoyed the little bit of turnabout based on the not so subtle smirk she was wearing. Taking the hint, I gave Jenna a little squeeze, then knelt down to let her feet return to the ground, “Well, you did the work today, so thank you for being such a good student." I looked to each side and in a rather too conspiratorial manner added, “And that deserves a special handshake." I held my hand out, palm up as before, and Jenna placed her hand over it, “Now we add a fist-bump." I pulled my hand out from underneath hers and made a fist. I wasn't sure if such things were used in demi society, but she followed suit and we banged fists lightly. I even made the little explosion sound at the end while waving my fingers.

Jenna giggled at the act then raced back to her mother and their car. By the time I got back to the truck, Jenna was already in the sedan and getting her cleats off. Kisa waited for me by the pickup, she had that unreadable expression again and her blue eyes were locked with mine. “It's amazing how well she trusts you."

I couldn't help but be surprised by her statement and it must have shown plainly on my face.

“You're one of the few humans to actually see and treat her as a person from the outset, well us both, actually." Kisa looked away as she continued, “It's not that there haven't been nice humans, there have, but most take one look at her and she's a cute talking cat, not a person." Her voice had taken a hard edge to it, the unreadable expression lost and replaced with body language from both humans and felines. She grabbed her elbow and her ears went back slightly, clearly uncomfortable with even bringing this up. “Of course, there's also the not so nice ones, and we've had to deal with that on occasion too. Both can be just as bad."

Truthfully, I didn't know what to say. It explained a bit about Jenna's apprehensions, and given that she didn't have the same worries about the kids, it made me concerned about what the girl had gone through at the hands of adults. At the same time, I realized Kisa had probably been through similar things or worse. Based on Jenna's age, Kisa must have been among first demis brought here, and prior to being free... Well, I had stopped reading the court documents for a reason.

While I'd been thinking through things, Kisa had remained as she was with only her tail tip twitching. She was looking at me again, there was a quiet tension building, and I'm not the kind of person that's eloquent under pressure. “Kisa, to me, and really most everyone I know here, people are just people," I was saying whatever came to mind at this point, trying to fill the silence, “I guess it stems back to how things have worked here for generations. Sure, people are hired on for seasonal work in the fields, but that doesn't mean the families that own the small farms aren't out there side by side with them." I shrugged, “When people spend enough time with someone else, they see they're not all that different underneath. Unless they're just being hard headed." Sadly I knew some of these hard headed people, but thankfully, they didn't live close by.

Breaking free from that line of thought, I continued on, “You're right, though, I'm glad that someone with so much excitement for the sport is here this year, and I'm glad that she has a thoughtful and wonderful mom supporting her. As a coach, I couldn't ask for more." Even I didn't know where was I going with this, but it felt like the right thing to say at the time, “And personally, I'm glad you both moved here."

Kisa's ears swiveled forward, and her eyes widened just a bit while her mouth formed a silent 'Oh' just below her whiskers.

And then I realized exactly what I said. I'm fairly certain I turned nearly the color of the pickup, my face would have blended in with it's faded red paint pretty well.

My mind froze. It had done well up to that point, thinking of reassuring things to say, explaining why I valued the both of them at the soccer camp. Making sure she knew how I felt beyond coaching was important too, but there were any number of ways to take what I said. On a basic level, I felt that there was at least a friendship forming, and that's what I meant to point out. I wasn't seriously thinking of anything further than that, I'd only met them at the beginning of the week after all. I decided a long time ago to take relationships slowly. The rule was to get to know someone fairly well before even considering anything more than friendship, and I didn't really know much about Kisa at all. I didn't even know if she was single. She had filled out the registration as Mrs McAllister, but never had mentioned a husband in the times we talked. Jenna didn't mention her father either, which could mean any number of things or nothing at all.

As I stood there, mind locked in a cycle of over thinking everything, Kisa kept her eyes on me. It dawned on me in that moment that I hadn't even considered her feelings. A sense of guilt washed over me, adding another layer to the flush that I physically felt. The last thing she needed was someone making assumptions, or making potentially unwanted advances, even if it was just a poorly worded thought. “Kisa, that didn't… Look, I..." I fumbled lamely over my words, not sure how to recover the situation.

Her ears stayed pricked forward but her eyes softened as the brought her hand to her mouth, trying to cover up the giggle that had formed, “Oh, no offense taken. I know what you're trying to say, and thank you." She tossed me a lifeline to end the floundering that was taking place. “Besides, the longer you're here, the longer that part will be out of the tractor."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up and I nodded quickly, “Right, on it." We both waved quickly, granting a merciful end to the conversation, and I hopped into the pickup.

* * *

By the time 9:30 rolled around, we were testing the engine, letting it warm up and making sure the temperature stayed where it should. There were a few other things we took care of besides the pump, but the tractor would be in good shape for the rest of the year, so it was time well spent. By 10:15 I was finally walking through my front door. It had been an exhausting day.

The house was owned by my uncle James, it had been on his farm for ages but hadn't been used in decades. As kids, my cousins and I would sneak into it and play all sorts of games, usually involving an assortment of nerf weaponry. I knew the place was aired out every few months, but the years of disuse had taken their toll on the interior and just about everything else. What worked was a fairly short list, the septic system was still in good order, but that was about it. After I decided to move back to Edison, the immediate concern was finding an affordable place that wouldn't squeeze my finances too tightly. I'd been talking the matter over with James and had mentioned, half in jest, that I'd even move in there. He stuck his hand out, “Fix it up and it's yours, I'll even carve out a lot with room for a garden and give you the title."

That was several years ago and the house was still a work in progress. I'd fixed the structural issues, mainly floor repairs and a bit of water damage here and there, torn the walls out, gutted and redid all the wiring and the plumbing. It was a lot of work, but well less than the cost of a mortgage or rent. George helped out a lot with the planning and any questions I had while I supplied the labor and materials. The upstairs was still mostly open, it made for one gigantic bedroom, but the downstairs was presentable enough and I had working utilities and a solid roof.

I checked my phone before I headed to the shower. Kisa had sent me a good luck text a few hours ago, I think I was cursing at a radiator hose at the time, so I sent a quick reply, “Mission accomplished and back @ home". All the parents had my contact information just in case they needed anything, and I had their numbers in my phone with the rest of their information on file.

I was armed with a washcloth and lava soap to combat the grease and grime that came with any sort of auto work. I stood in the shower for a good ten minutes just letting the water roll over me. It was a bit of a waste but my shoulders and back needed it. Another five minutes of scrubbing my arms and hands and I was relatively clean looking. A short wash down of the rest of my body finished the shower, and after toweling dry I went upstairs heeding the call of the bed's siren song.

A few minutes after crawling under the sheets I heard the phone's notification chime. My hand came out and I felt for the phone on the small night stand adjacent to the bed. I squinted at the brightness of the screen as I entered my password. Kisa had responded, “Great. Sorry it's late, but is there a place close by that serves breakfast?"

I chuckled to myself and sat up to clear the drowsiness. Cities had convenience stores or the like close by. Edison's a rural farm community sporting a single general store which has some field and horse supplies in stock, gas pumps, and little else. There was really only one place within reasonable driving distance. About 20 minutes from my house is a truck stop along Route 80 with a diner. The factory would eventually have smaller supporting businesses sprouting up, lunch places, maybe a smaller department store or two and a UPS or FedEx shop. Aside from the truck stop (which actually does have great food), anything else was a nearly hour's drive north. “One truck stop, 20 minutes away from me. Good eats. Other places near the parts store."

A few seconds later I heard the chime again, “OK, is the stop kid friendly?"

The place was clean, a family run business that had been there a good 50 years or more. It had a small store with trucking related gear, shelf stable groceries, and a few pinball machines attached to the diner. The few times I'd been there the customers were well behaved. 'Yes. Charlie's Plaza on Rt 80,' I replied. If memory served me correctly, there was a sticker on the window beside the front doors that advertised the store's web site.

A few minutes passed by before her response came, “Thanks. Care to join us?"

I didn't have any plans, aside from working on the upstairs a bit. I had run network cabling at the same time I updated the wiring for the downstairs, and I was in the middle of running the cables for the soon to be rooms up stairs. I had the tough choice between breakfast with Kisa and her daughter or spending a few hours getting acquainted with the new network cable spool and some RJ45 ends. “Sure, what time?"

“Pick you up about 8?"

If I was up at about 7:15, that'd leave time to get presentable and still allow for a good night's sleep. I checked the charge on the phone, set an alarm, and then messaged back, “Works for me. See you then."