[Lauchenoiria]

Camille Pierre and Imogen Robinson walked home from school together, having the same conversation they’d had every school day since Gabrielle’s visit. The pair were quite a sight to an outsider. Camille was wearing a navy knee-length skirt and a pale blue blouse, her hair tied back in a French braid. She wore tights and sensible boots, a warm jacket and a plain blue warm hat. She looked foreign, yes, but boring foreign.

Imogen, on the other hand, was flaunting her Kerlianness for all it was worth. She wore tight but flexible trousers in bright purple over a pair of pink boots with tiny kitten heels. Her tight pink top was made of sturdier material than it looked, and hung down longer at one side than the other, creating a semi-dress like effect. Her long jacket had a military-style design and her hat literally had a Kerlian flag knitted on the front.

“You see how they treat me in the playground,” Imogen said once again. “The Eirians, laughing at me for being Kerlian.” They were actually laughing at the fact she was standing on a bench giving a speech about the virtues of gynarchism, but Imogen would not let truth get in the way of a good argument.

“Yes, yes, and they will never fully accept us, so I should call my mother and ask her to take me back to Kerlile and, oh yes, bring you too,” Camille recited in a monotone. “You ask me this every day. The answer is still no.”

“I’m going to keep asking until you come to your senses,” Imogen informed Camille, skipping ahead as they approached the house. Camille rolled her eyes and hopped past, and they ended up racing up to the door, laughing. They’d had this conversation before; Camille had chosen to find it amusing.

The pair went inside, throwing their schoolbags down in the hallway and play-fighting with each other all the way to the kitchen where they found Natasha, waving away residual smoke from a tray of slightly-burned muffins.

“I’m getting better!” Natasha said to the pair as they entered. “I didn’t set the smoke alarm off this time! And I think they might even be edible!”

Natasha had taken to spending her days learning to bake and cook. It turned out she did not have a natural talent in the kitchen. Still, she was determined to learn, and it wasn’t like she had much else to occupy her days. She didn’t want to start a general education course only to pause halfway through to have her baby. She preferred to wait until the baby was born, so she had to do something with her time.

“Well, let me try then,” Camille said, reaching, only for Natasha to slap her hand away with an oven glove.

“Hot!” Natasha scolded. “There’s fruit tubs in the fridge.”

“You are definitely ready to become a mother,” Imogen grumbled as she headed for the fridge, passing Camille one of said fruit tubs before taking one herself. “Denying us muffins in favour of healthy food.”

Natasha snorted, chasing them away with more instructions to do their homework. The rest of the evening was uneventful until Carmen got home from work. Once Carmen had returned, and the family had eaten, Carmen gathered everyone around the table, sat down and looked serious. The girls became uneasy.

“We need to discuss the incident with Gabrielle,” Carmen began. “Each of you has told me that I apparently overreacted, as have numerous foreign media outlets. I have taken the time to consider this, and I have concluded that I was both right, and wrong.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Mum,” Imogen pointed out.

“Wait until I finish. I was right to be cautious. We are, all of us, in a precarious position. The Zongongians want us returned to them; and the Kerlians could change their minds on the matter of permitting us to live at any second. I do not want to lie to you, so I am being very blunt here. We cannot trust anyone, and we must always exercise caution. That said, I did overreact around Gabrielle. I should have at least heard her out before demanding she was removed.”

“Thank you for admitting that,” Natasha said. “Will you apologise to the Pierre family?”

“Will I…” Carmen began sounding outraged, then sighed. “Fine, I will. Show of good faith, and all that. Camille, I am sorry, to begin. I should not have prevented you from speaking with your sister, if that was your desire.”

Everyone turned to Camille, who hesitated for a long time before answering. “I didn’t know if I did, when she came. This is all really hard. I… I miss Kerlile. And I’m scared of Kerlile. I never know what to think any more. But, well, yeah. I would have liked to speak to her.”

“Then I’m sorry,” Carmen said. “And I will try to rectify it however I can.”

The timer beeped, and Natasha’s attempt at a homemade crème brulée was brought out onto the table. Everyone tried it, made fake choking noises and then finished their plates regardless. They laughed, and it seemed like everything had been sorted, and everyone was happy. But deep down, almost unnoticed, an unease remained. And only time would tell if anything became of it.