In which Kolyat does not have to live with his aunt

"Koly, come on, we're going to be late for your cousins," Irikah called down the hall.

Already dressed in his best clothes, he came as far as halfway down the hall, stubbornly refusing to give in all the way until she made it clear he had to. "Mama, why do we have to go? And why doesn't Dad have to go, too?"

Irikah paused, putting on her scarf; now a thin, sheer fabric, only a remnant of the thick wraps they used to wear to guard against dust-storms. Sunset-colored eyes looked hesitant, as if she were deciding what to tell him. "Father's working, Koly. You know that. He'll be back next week."

Kolyat sighed dramatically, heaving every bit of his frustration and don't-wanna out in a gust of air, then crumpled to the floor. "But Mama, I don't even like my cousins. And Auntie Sarya is mean." She was mean, too. She was always saying cruel things and hurting people's feelings. Once, she'd caught Kolyat playing with a toy that wasn't his, and she'd started by asking if he was a thief. By the time she got done talking, Kolyat had been shaking and crying too much to even explain to his mother what had happened. Much as he didn't like his little cousins, they shouldn't have a mom who was so meeeeean.

Irikah knelt next to her boy, rubbing his back. "I know. But she does not intend to be. And you cannot choose your family. Now, let's go. I promise we will not stay for long."

Sighing once more, Kolyat climbed to his feet, following his mother out the door. He'd go, but she couldn't make him enjoy it. At least it would only be a couple of hours, he reasoned; his mother would soon take him home.

He kicked his feet lightly on the drive there, not quite making contact with the dashboard. "Mama, why doesn't Sarya like Dad?"

Irikah's lips pursed. "You call her Aunt Sarya, Koly. And she doesn't like him for very grown-up reasons that I will explain when you are older."

Kolyat rolled his eyes. "It's always grown-up reasons. Is grown-up reasons also why you wouldn't let me bring my toy gun? I was gonna at least play soldiers with my cousins, and now I can't do nothing."

"You mean, 'I cannot do anything,' Koly. And that's not true. There will be games, and toys, and frozen kelo treats. You are going to enjoy yourself." She glanced over to him. "Straighten up, please. You are wrinkling your clothing."

Wriggling up higher in his seat, Kolyat pouted. She hadn't answered him about the guns. He pooched his lower lip out, wondering whether he should ask again. I think she doesn't answer me on purpose, too.

Well, she can make me go, but she can't make me have a good time.