Respect

"Can anyone name the three defected families of the early guild?" The teacher didn't expect anyone to know, but was used to teaching somewhat Socratically. Oh, of course. The little know-it-all Alvis has an idea. How many eleven-year-olds know this? What parents teach their children about the defector families? As far as Miss Hanover was concerned, it wasn't anything small children had any business knowing about, but the curriculum was the curriculum. A little Guild knowledge, to know a bit about how the world worked, was the idea. Save that for later, when they're closer to draft age.

"Yes, Miss Hamilton?"

"Dagobert, Bassianus, and Hamilton."

Wow. Well, maybe a Hamilton… Miss Hanover immediately shut the thought out of her mind – it was the first thought, the only thought an adult could have, upon meeting a Hamilton, but it was patently impossible. The Hamiltons were hardly the only ones in the world… there was, in particular, another very prominent business family of Hamiltons in the area, who were not the Hamiltons. Alvis was almost definitely one of those. At any rate, Miss Hanover didn't care who was a defector, really.

"Miss Hanover, I just have a question. Why did you say defector families? They didn't defect, they were forced into hiding after nearly being killed off!"

"Ah. Well." This theory. Now it made some sense how much the girl knew, Alvis belonged to one of those hardcore families determined to make that crackpot political theory commonplace. Fucking great.

"Well, Miss Hamilton, you seem to know a lot about this – there's a lot of literature written about it on both sides of the argument, you should check out some of what the library has to offer."

"Okay! I have already, though."

Miss Hanover sighed as she dismissed the students for lunch a few minutes early. How could you honestly dislike a bright eleven-year-old? The whole class was just filled with adorable little rugrats, and that one blasted girl had to just creep her out. She had an odd way about her, like she never particularly connected with anyone. Miss Hanover walked to the faculty lounge, where Mr. John Finley was already a few moments into his comedy routine for the day.

"I swear. To. God. He said that to me."

"Well, I've never met him!" chimed Glenn Powers.

"Let me guess," Hanover interjected, "you're on that Mad Thane crap again!"

"Oh, Tina, you've met him! You know how pompous he is! No one talks like this!" Finley kept going, impersonating the mustachioed Admiral in an imagined conversation with himself, switching roles deftly. "I deeply appreciate the work you do for our nation's children, Mr. Finster. I am sure my daughter agrees. And while you're at it, how about you fellate me? Well, sir, I'd love to once you get my name right, Sir Mad Thane. What did you call me? Oh, so sorry your Excellency. I meant no disrespect. I'm sure you didn't. As you were. But I'm not a soldier… and so on, and so forth."

"Good lord, John, you love to go on, but I thank you to do that when I am not attempting to drink some water," said Powers, sporting a newly drenched tie.

"Besides, I've never heard him ask for any services of that type. Maybe he's intimidated by gorgeous women," quipped Tina.

"Or just not interested."

"Seriously, John!"

"Holly! Wait up!" cried Alvis. "Wait, what's wrong?" She ran over and grabbed her friend's shoulders, spinning her so they were face to face.

"Al, no… it's nothing."

"It's not about them making fun of your dad again, is it? I know they do that."

"What! Al, no! He's just… he never tells me anything, I don't know what to do – no one ever tells me anything about the war, what if something happens?"

"No one tells anyone our age about the war, you know that."

"But if he is so dumb, how is he an Admiral? Why does everyone want to insult him? Allie, I can't believe them! He's my dad!"

"Please, who do you believe – your dad, or random people who just know him politically?" Alvis loved talking about politics, she'd heard people talking about it and it always sounded fun, so why not bring it into all conversations?

"Oh I guess… but I don't hear that much from him anyway, there's so much more to hear from those stupid political people."

"Yea, well I've heard some fun stuff about my family, and I can't even admit that it is my family."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Allie… you're crazy."

"Sure, I am!"

They didn't really talk much the rest of the day, and Alvis went home hoping to just forget about the whole family idea. There were too many issues going on, maybe she'd have to wait a bit before getting back to Holly… she arrived at home to find the house fairly quiet.

"Guita! Guita? Oh, right… she's not coming by until tomorrow." Alvis walked into the kitchen, and quickly closed the door, almost reflexively, in a near panic.

"Why? Why? What do I do now? What do I do now!" Alvis walked to the desk of the study and picked up the scroll and paper. Through some twist of fate she managed to remember that day three years ago, as well as that one time last summer when her father had glancingly mentioned something like this to Guita. Then, instead of reading the paper in the drawer, she simply curled up on the floor, and waited.

"Guita… Guita!"