A/N: Sorry it's been so long you guys. It's been a rough few weeks both school-wise and personal-life-wise. Plus I got distracted by other projects and then 13 Reasons Why happened and my life is just a mess. But I don't plan on abandoning this story, even if the updates do come a little later than anticipated. Thanks for sticking through this with me. I love you all so much, and I hope you like this chapter. Until I was writing this, I had no idea how many guys were standoffish, so this may just read like "Gen gets rejected by literally everyone and it drives her crazy" - which I thought was pretty funny. Just so you know, there's an OC of mine making an appearance in this chapter/story but they won't be stealing any of the limelight away from your guys, promise. Also, if your guy doesn't get featured much in this chapter, don't worry (there was only so long I could make this)! More introductions and fun times to come! Enjoy! :)
Meet the Parents
Introductions with the Selected were to start at nine sharp.
Naturally, that meant that Gen was just rolling out of bed at eight forty-five with the worst case of bed-head she had ever seen. She grumbled as she stared at her reflection, resenting her parents for the umpteenth time that week. They knew she was not an early riser. Paired with the fact that she didn't get to bed until nearly sunrise examining her conversation with Arlo and fretting over the joys the day would bring, this was a rough start to a what was bound to be a rough day.
"Votre Altesse, look at you," Elyan fretted, practically running circles around Gen as she frantically tried to make her look presentable.
"Why didn't you wake me?" Gen asked, wiping at her eyes while her maid pulled a brush as gently as she was able through the knotted mess atop her head.
"You specifically told me to never wake you before ten unless I wanted to be banished to Portugal," Elyan replied, twisting the now-tamed hair into a bun atop her head.
"I did?" Gen asked, not remembering that at all.
"It was the morning after Bastille Day," Elyan supplied, yanking perhaps a little harder than needed. "You threw a pillow at me."
"Oh," Gen said, needing no more explanation. Bastille Day was...rough...to say the least. She remembered something about Jell-O shots and daring Beau to jump in the Fountain of Latona but the rest was a blur. "Désolé. I repeal that order."
"As you wish," Elyan complied, moving on from Gen's hair to her face. First she scrubbed it raw, then beat it with so many brushes and products that all Gen could breath in was powder particles. Her maid was a flurry of motion that she could barely keep up with, pulling Gen up out of her seat and into the closet. Gen didn't even get a say in what she wanted to wear (not that even Elyan would let her out for such an important moment in sweats). Suddenly, fabric ambushed her vision in a sea of blue; all she could feel was the caress of silk against her torso and legs and the metal of a zipper being yanked across her spine. A dress then, Gen surmised. The next moment she was being yanked to the opposite end of her closet, her feet jammed in shoes she didn't even know she owned. Only then, on her way to her jewelry drawer, did Elyan put Gen in front of a mirror.
"Elyan, you are a miracle worker," Gen praised as she admired her reflection, completely unrecognizable from the monster that first rose out of bed twenty minutes ago.
"Glad you approve, Votre Altesse," Elyan preened as she positioned Gen's favorite purple cameo tiara atop her head, pinning it in place. With the last diamond accessories fastened on her ears and wrist, Gen was free to go.
"I'll be back later...hopefully," Gen said, praying to be released to her own devices after breakfast.
She was only slotted an hour to greet all thirty-five of her suitors, and thanks to her overwhelming need for sleep, that time was now further reduced. She would only have time for a cursory greeting and a 'comment allez-vous?' before moving on to the next guy. Not that it was devastating...well not to her. The guys might feel a little jipped, but oh well.
Gen took the stairs by twos, going as fast as she could in heels. She hated the damned things. Screw perception and screw the rules; she wanted to wear jeans. It was another five minutes (would have been two if she were in sneakers) before she got to where she needed to be. Unfortunately, there was already someone waiting for her: her brother.
"You do know this was supposed to start ten minutes ago," Beau said dryly, already waiting for Gen at the foot of the stairs. He was clad in coral-colored suit with silver paisley tie and pocket square, the colors making his blue eyes pop. On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous, but Beau had a penchant for pulling off the un-pull-off-able. It almost made Gen feel self-conscious about the simple blue lace dress Elyan had picked. But then she remembered that she didn't really give a damn what these boys thought of her, and if they thought she was too casual then so be it. It would be easier to send them off if they didn't like her.
"A princess is never late. Everyone else is simply early," Gen replied curtly, squaring her shoulders to face whatever was about to come through those doors.
"Quoting Julie Andrews, really?" Beau asked amusedly.
"Just shut up and smile," Gen sighed, not in the mood for any of Beau's antics. "And for the love of Dieu, please do not fuck this up."
"Me? Fuck things up? Never," Beau said as he pretended to be offended. One glare from Gen was all it took to shut him up. "Okay fine, my lips are sealed."
The first one out the door was a small New Asian guy dressed in a simple white button down, sweater, and black pants. He was lithe, almost fragile looking, with wispy black hair that fell just below his ears. His eyes were cast towards the ground, his hand fidgeting nervously as he approached. Gen could see him shaking from yards away, though she admired the way he still managed to smile through what she assumed was a terrifying experience. Was she really that intimidating? It wasn't like she was some sort of monster.
They stood in silence for a minute before Gen spoke since he refused to make the first move.
"Bon matin," she said cheerfully in the hopes of picking things up.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he replied shakily, like he had been rehearsing the line off a piece of paper. "I'm Lucas Aubry."
"Nice to meet you Lucas," Gen smiled, though his smile in return was rather tight, like he was uncomfortable. He made no move to continue the conversation, so Gen swayed on her toes, grasping at something to talk about. His name was pulling strings in her head, like she'd seen it somewhere before. "You're in the music industry right?"
He nodded, both pleased and surprised, like he wasn't expecting her to know him. Gen didn't know what it was, but something about her made him flustered.
"I write songs for popular musicians," he answered briefly, not giving her much more to run with. Gen bit down on her bottom lip, mind working frantically to keep the conversation afloat.
"I would love to hear one sometime," Gen continued honestly. She'd hung around musicians and celebrities before; they'd been great company, and watching them work was incredibly inspiring.
"Ummm..." he stammered, running a hand through his dark hair. There was a pinched, somewhat worried look on his face, like he wasn't comfortable with the idea but had no clue how to tell her no. "I really...don't uh...perform for people. I'm sorry."
He looked so guilty, so upset about possibly hurting her that it freaked Gen out. She didn't know what to do, didn't know how to make this better. When the hell had this conversation gone so wrong?
"That's fine," Gen assured, not wanting to work him up any further. "I'm sure we can figure out something else to do."
Lucas nodded but said nothing else, returning to his fidgeting.
"Well, if there is nothing else then...um...breakfast is right down the hall," Gen instructed, pointing Lucas in the direction of the dining room.
Lucas gave an apologetic smile before dashing away. If Gen wasn't mistaken, she could almost hear a sigh of relief coming from his direction.
"That was weird," Gen told Beau, worrying the hem of her dress between her fingers. "Are they all going to be like that?"
"I doubt it," Beau replied, trying his best to be assuring. "That poor kid was scared out of his mind."
"Am I really that horrible?"
"You're the Crown Princess of France," Beau reminded her. "You might forget you're royalty sometimes but these guys...that's all they've seen you as. They don't know the real you. For all they know, you're some uptight bitch who will have them beheaded if they forget to bow."
"That's not me at all," Gen refuted, frowning.
"I know that, but they don't. Not yet at least," Beau said, gesturing for the next guy to be let in. "Just give them a chance to relax and warm up to you."
Gen swallowed thickly and nodded, trying to get into a better headspace. She could do this. She was the future Queen of France. There was nothing she could not face.
A few more unmemorable introductions were made, though nothing as rocky as the first one. There were a few sweaty hands, dozens of generic compliments, and one boy who almost fainted when she touched his hand. Even though she had only been through a third of the list, it felt like ten years had gone by in the span of fifteen minutes. Just when she was about to call it quits, something remarkable happened.
A tall, pale blonde boy walked their way, smiling wider the closer he got. That smile was infectious, like he was radiating sunshine, exactly what she needed after a wave of insecurity. That, and Gen couldn't help but find entertainment from his brightly patterned shirt and yellow bow tie. He was carrying a bouquet in his hands, failing at keeping them hidden behind his back. When he approached Gen, he tipped his head respectfully.
"Lucas Travert, Votre Altesse," he said, green-blue eyes alit with joy. He was such a happy person. Gen was slightly envious.
"Another Lucas," Gen quipped, secretly hoping that this interaction would go better than the last one. "You can just call me Gen."
"I-uh...I brought you these," he stammered, looking away as he held out the bouquet of yellow roses and daisies.
"That's so sweet of you," Gen gushed, unable to stop the warm feeling in her chest because no one that came before had been that genuinely thoughtful.
Lucas flushed, a bright pink spreading up his cheeks to the tips of his ears, and he ran a hand through his blonde hair. "The yellow roses are supposed to stand for friendship, and I-uh though that um the daisies were pretty...like you..."
He seemed shy, sweet, and so innocent that Gen couldn't help but melt a little. Even if she couldn't love this guy in the romantic way, she was definitely falling for him in the way she fell for small puppies and kittens.
"I love them," Gen assured, enjoying the way he lit up around her. He really seemed to like her, and while that would be worrisome later, for now she was enjoying being liked. It was refreshing. "Thank you."
"I hope they brighten your day."
"They have," Gen said, her mood successfully lifted. "Enjoy the rest of yours."
He smiled one last time and ducked his head, making his way to the dining room like all the others before him. Gen took a moment to sniff the flowers, enjoying the sweet scent. They made her feel warm and happy, two things she did not expect to come from the Selection.
"He is wayyyy too pure for you," Beau commented.
"What the hell does that mean?" Gen snapped, feeling affronted.
"It means you would tarnish his soul as soon as he heard you curse," Beau pointed out, Gen's fingers subconsciously moving to cover her lips. The speech was so routine that she didn't even know she had cursed. She would have to work on that. Not only to be polite, but to save the face of the royal family. The last thing Gen needed was rumors flying around that the royal family had trash mouths...even if it were true.
Gen nodded to the guard to let the next guy in, and if there were ever an inkling of a time when Gen doubted her sexuality, now was that moment.
The man walking out her way was more than the 'tall-dark-and-handsome' type. He was drop dead gorgeous; even she could acknowledge that. His dark hair was pulled up neatly into a knot at the top of his head. His navy suit jacket pulled across his broad shoulders, his shoes were a bit scuffed, and if Gen looked closely, she swore she could make out a size sticker still stuck to the leg of his pants, but somehow those things just made him more interesting. More specifically, his looks made Gen's mind immediately jump to Samara. Even with all the hurt that lingered there, her damned heart still leapt in her chest. He had those same dark, soulful eyes, that same coffee colored skin that made his bright, white smile stand out. For a moment, Gen was stunned while Beau was practically salivating, too distracted to do anything but stare.
"S-salut," Gen stammered when she finally returned to a good headspace. She had no idea how long she had spaced out, but his smile was now edging on something between embarrassed and uncomfortable. Must've been a while then.
"Salut," he replied, relieved that Gen snapped out of it. But in the next moment, his eyes fixed on the bouquet and he froze with fear. "Should I have brought you flowers or something?"
Gen chuckled, handing the bouquet off to Beau who was still gaping like a fish. "No, you're fine, promise."
"Okay...okay," he repeated, seemingly to calm himself back down. "Sorry, it's just I'm a bit nervous. Not really sure what to do."
"That makes two of us," Gen admitted, trying to break the tension and smiling when it looked like she got him to relax. But then it was her turn to panic. "I'm sorry, I totally forgot to ask for your name," Gen apologized, slapping her hand to her forehead. Snap out of it Gen! You don't even like guys! What the fuck is wrong with you?
"Dante Sial," he answered.
"Sial?"
"It's Saudi. My Dad and his family immigrated to France when he was younger."
"And your mother?"
"French born and raised. I don't think she has any intention of ever leaving," he said, but the light in his eyes died as he spoke about his mother, so Gen decided to leave that topic alone.
"Well, I look forward to learning more about you, Dante," Gen replied truthfully.
"As do I," he said, smiling brightly again.
"See you at breakfast."
Dante nodded and walked off.
"Mine," Beau proclaimed a moment later, not even bothering to hide his gaze as he ogled Dante's ass the entire way down the hall.
"Beau, you can't just call dibs on - "
"Mine," Beau repeated, and Gen sighed and decided to let this one go.
A dozen or so more went by, all the same level of awkwardly polite. Amongst her suitors was the famous model, Merlin Philipp. Beau nearly lost his soul and went to heaven when the model came strutting out like the hall was a catwalk. He was very attractive, Gen would give him that, though she couldn't really get a word in edgewise with Beau asking a million and one questions. Once she had finally pried her brother away from Merlin, they were introduced to an artist named Ulysse. He certainly looked the part, as he was the only one to show up not in a suit, but in a pair of paint-stained jeans and an untucked flannel, his thick black framed glasses on the bridge of his nose. He smiled easily and was actually kind of funny, though she got the sense that he was way more comfortable around her than Beau, which was interesting.
After Ulysse left, the next one out the door was a well-built, tan-skinned guy who was clearly on the older end of the age-range. He was filled out in places that Gen didn't even know could be filled, his traditional black suit practically straining to stay on his body. His golden brown hair was shaved on the sides and sculpted into a bump on the top of his head, his dark eyes holding hers in a startlingly intimate manner. Gen felt strangely overwhelmed, and then promptly suffocated by his copious use of cologne and aftershave.
Gen barely knew how to react when he bent down swiftly and took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. "May I say you look lovely this morning, Votre Altesse."
His voice was deep and accented. Italian, her mind supplied while he was straightening back up. Well, that would explain the impulsively romantic behavior. Queen Nicoletta always did say that the Italian men were forward ones.
"Merci..." Gen said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear while swishing her dress idly around her knees. "It was actually kind of a struggle getting ready. I woke up later than I expected so my maid just sorta threw this on."
"Well if this is you running late, I am sure you dazzle when you really take the time."
"Wow," Gen said, taken aback by all the flattery. "You really know your stuff."
"Maybe," he shrugged his shoulders, trying way too hard to look casual. "You're just so easy to talk to."
"And who am I talking to?" Gen asked, playing along.
"Salvatore Esposito," he introduced with a suave (or at least that's what he thought), somewhat cocky smile. Gen could tell that his ego was inflated to the size of Illéa and that he probably spent more time studying his reflection in the mirror than the textbooks. Not that those were bad things per say, just not attractive traits in anyone. Poor Salvatore...not only were they not compatible romantically, they probably weren't even compatible to be friends.
"Well, Salvatore Esposito, I would love to chat all day, but I have over a dozen more candidates to talk to before the hour is up."
"Then perhaps we can chat over dinner?"
"I'll think about it," Gen told him with a polite smile, though she really had no intention of following up. She had only just gotten used to speaking to these guys; it was way too soon for a date.
"Don't think too hard," he replied with an easy smile before turning and swaggering down the hall.
"Do you think it would be easier for him to wear a sign saying 'horny and DTF' or does he really have success picking up women like that?" Beau asked, and Gen snorted so loudly that she had to peek over her shoulder to make sure Salvatore hadn't heard.
"I give him props. Speaking to the princess like that is ballsy."
"It's also creepy as fuck. Not to mention borderline rapey," Beau pointed out, frowning.
"It is not rapey. Don't be so dramatic," Gen chided. Her brother was always jumping to conclusions, and while she appreciated his active participation in feminism and protecting her, this was one situation where guys coming onto her would have to be excused. "If he tried to touch me, that would be one thing. But it's not like he did anything unwanted. He is here to date me and has to compete with all these other guys. To be that bold takes initiative...something most of these guys do not have."
"Yeah, you really did seem to get a crop of nervous nellies."
"It's kinda worrisome," Gen said, wondering if she would be able to pull off a fake Selection if the guys were going to fight her the whole way. "They do know they're going to have to go to public events and do projects and actually talk to me right?"
"I hope so. Or else this is going to be a long few months."
The next guy to come sauntering out of the doors was unlike the others. For starters, he was dressed impeccably, far more formal than anyone before him. Not a single dark hair was out of place, pulled back from his sharp, angular face. His skin was Middle-Eastern in complexion - Indian if she had to guess - and flawless, his dark eyes taking in everything with critical analysis. Gen felt like she was being studied, like she was being assessed. He was such an overwhelming presence that for the first time, the power in the room switched from her to him.
"Lochan Bellerose. A pleasure," he greeted formally. He seemed rigid and unwilling to relax. It made Gen feel inadequate, like she was being lazy.
"I hope you've settled in well."
"Yes. Everything here is so quaint," he replied, the smile on his lips practiced and, in Gen's honest opinion, not very friendly.
"Well, the palace is hundreds of years old," Gen tried to joke to lighten the mood, but all she got was another simpering, thin-lipped smile.
"Oui, and it surely shows," Lochan answered, his tone failing at carrying the humor, instead sounding condescending, like he was insulting her home. Gen felt affronted; even Beau stiffened by her side. But Gen let it pass. Maybe he was just nervous. Or maybe he was just an entitled rich kid. It was too soon to tell, but she was gunning for the latter.
Gen cleared her throat as the tension in the room grew awkward. She found herself shifting where she stood, trying to avoid his shrewd, intense eye contact. "I believe you have yet to meet my brother, Beau."
"Charmed," Lochan said as the two shook hands.
"Love the suit," Beau complimented.
Gen had to admit, the guy had nice taste. Expensive, clearly, but nice. His black three piece suit was cut and tailored to perfection, clearly one that he brought with him and not one of the one's supplied by the personal stylists in the palace. The only pop of color came from the deep maroon of his tie, pocket square, and...holy shit - ruby cufflinks! No wonder Beau was impressed. However, Lochan's eyes slid up and down Beau's more ostentatious ensemble with something akin to disapproval and disgust hidden behind a thin veneer of politeness.
"Merci," Lochan replied, though Gen got the feeling it was only because his good manners told him to. "Shouldn't we be getting on with something?"
"You're completely right," Gen smiled and gestured behind her. "The dining hall is just down this way."
Lochan inclined his head cordially and continued on his way, hands clenched in fists at his side. Gen had no idea why. It took all she had not to knock him down a few pegs.
"What a douchebag," Gen said to her brother once Lochan was gone.
There was nothing about that guy she liked. He was rude to Beau, he insulted her home (albeit indirectly), and he acted holier-than-thou as if he owned the place. Just who the hell did he think he was?
"Well that douchebag happens to be part of a very wealthy family that could look really well paired with ours, so I wouldn't count him out just yet."
"How the hell do you know that?" Gen asked, now a bit freaked out about how much Beau knew about the Selected. "Have you been spying on them?"
"I've done my research."
"Beau," Gen fumed warningly, her brother treading on thin ice. "There are boundaries."
"Be thankful one of us did," Beau shot back, not an ounce of jesting left in his tone. "You wouldn't remember one of their names if it were written across their forehead, nonetheless anything about their personal lives."
"That's not true!" Gen protested.
"Please," Beau scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You've been cycling through these guys as fast as you can, willing it to be over so you can go back to your room and pretend that they don't exist. I know you don't want to do this and that you asked for help, but Jesus Christ Gen, this is your Selection. Pull your own weight. If you don't, people will talk."
"Is this a bad time?" came a familiar voice. "If it is, I can just come back later."
Or not at all, Gen read between the lines. At least, that's what she assumed the voice in Arlo's head was thinking. Judging by the look on his face, she was certain he was still hoping to get the boot.
"Arlo," Gen replied jovially, enjoying the way Beau's face contorted into surprise as he was forced to eat his words. "No, not a bad time at all. How are you this morning?"
"Just fine," Arlo replied curtly, hands in his pockets as he rocked on the heels of his black converse. "This the brother?"
"Yes. This lovely ray of sunshine is my brother Beau. Beau, this is Arlo..."
"Moreau," Arlo supplied, extending a hand for Beau to shake. "Nice to meet you."
"Right back at you," Beau glanced down at Arlo's hand before shaking it, though eventually he accepted the gesture once the strangeness of the situation wore off.
Arlo stepped in a bit closer than what was considered proper and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. "Are we going to talk about - "
"Later," Gen assured with a smile, taking a step back and gesturing to the hall that led to the dining room. "Breakfast is two doors down on your right. I trust you won't get lost."
"Well, you never know," Arlo said dryly before walking away, and Gen sniffed a laugh.
"Okay, what the hell was all that about? Did you two fuck or something?" Beau asked as soon as Arlo was out of earshot, casting a glance back to make sure the coast was clear. "Because if you've discovered that you are instead bisexual, then I need to hear the deets right now."
"Still gay, no fucking," Gen dismissed. "I ran into him in the library last night."
"How scandalous," Beau gasped, though purely for dramatic effect. He was already bored of the story now that the sexual connotation had been removed.
"Hardly," Gen rolled her eyes, trying not to check her phone for the time. "Are these almost over?"
"Just two or three more, then you're home free."
"Great because I am starving," Gen moaned, desperately craving food.
The last few meetings seemed to drag on, if only because Gen was tired and over it and just wanted to curl up with a plate of croissants and watch her favorite soap opera for the rest of the night. It didn't help that one of the guys, Sébastien, said all of three words to her - each one mumbled under his breath, and the next one after him, Hugo, essentially did the same thing except responded in short, clipped sentences. The last one, a nurse named Anatole, was actually entertaining to talk to, if only because Beau immediately got on him about how pulling a blue blazer over a black dress shirt was a sin and then they started bickering which essentially turned into a 'who can out-compliment the other' match that Gen was loathe to break up. Anatole mumbled something about how they were lucky he showed up in actual clothes and not scrubs before walking away, and Gen cuffed her brother upside the head for being an ass.
"Tu me fais chier," Gen grumbled, practically dragging Beau down the hall where they could finally get food. The smells had been taunting her the whole time, and her stomach rumbled the closer she got to the heavenly banquet.
When Gen walked in, she desperately tried to ignore the fact that all eyes were on her. She made her way to her seat, same as any morning. Delphine was still sneering at her through poorly disguised side eye, Evangeline was had her nose stuck in a new book, her mother was working on her daily stack of legislature, Louis was poking his eggs refusing to eat them, and her father had yet to show.
"Bon matin, ma chérie," Maman said, not even looking up from her pages. "I see all your suitors have settled in. Any catching your eye?"
"Too soon to tell Maman. I've known them for all of five minutes," Gen sighed, heaping her plate full of warm, carb-filled goodness and butter. Fuck her dietician. She deserved this.
"I knew I was going to marry your Papa the first moment I saw him," her mother reminisced, though it seemed more like an odd warning. Like a why-didn't-you-open-yourself-to-love-and-recognize-the-signs? kind of thing.
"That's wonderful and all, but not everyone is you and Papa."
Her mother was going to say something, Gen could tell. Her lips were pursed, her brow furrowed. Like this, Gen could actually see her mother's years. Not that she was old, but she was worried about something. Gen didn't get the chance to ask, because the doors were being opened once more, this time to let her father in.
"Now this is a sight I haven't seen since Eady's Selection," Papa commented as he made his way to his usual seat next to Maman, placing a kiss on her forehead before sitting down. "At least they're smiling this time. Eady held a surprise elimination right before breakfast on the first day. Over a third of them got sent home, and the ones that were left were terrified."
"Don't go getting any ideas," Maman warned, eyeing Gen as she pointed a fork her way.
"Damn it, you've foiled my evil plan," Gen joked in a deadpan, already tired of being home. Was it too soon to call Oncle Kaden and take another trip, this time for forever?
"So Gen, mind telling us why you were up so late in the library last night?" Papa asked, look towards Gen expectantly.
"I was just brushing up on some Late-American classics," Gen lied with a smile, trying to get him to drop the subject.
"Really, which one?"
Damn it Papa, Gen cursed. Like she really knew any books that fell under that category. When was the last time she even pulled a book off a shelf in that dusty old place? She had no idea, and her father knew it too. Still, she wracked her mind, hoping that something she learned from her lessons would come in handy.
"Twilight."
Laughter broke out amongst the table and Gen flushed a bright pink. Of course that heaping pile of trash about sparkly vampires would be the only thing she remembered from her lessons. It wasn't her fault that she didn't find Le Petit Prince and Les Misérables enthralling. There was a reason that boring shit was left in the past.
"I think we all learned enough about history to know that Twilight is a far cry from classic literature," Beau commented snidely - as if he knew a damn thing about literature himself, waving his fork in the direction of the guys. "Sorry to offend you Arlo, I know you have the whole children of the night thing going on"
Arlo scowled deeply while the other guys chuckled. Gen took the time to survey them - this collection of unlikely suitors from all different walks of life. They all seemed to have friends already, making connections and talking as if they hadn't just met the night before. It was strange to watch, even stranger to think that this would be a staple of her life for the unforeseen future.
"Wait, Mamé 'Merica wrote a book?" Louis asked, thoroughly confused.
"No Louis, your Mamé America was named after the country America, which is now Illéa," Maman told him, but he still seemed lost.
"So Mamé 'Merica was a country?"
There was more laughter from the table. Louis' face was getting red, like he was going to throw a tantrum, but as bad as she felt for him, Gen couldn't help herself from laughing too.
"We might need to talk to his tutors about some extra history lessons," Gen suggested, taking another bite from her pancakes.
Her parents nodded along, seeming to agree with her on the first thing in a while. Gen reached out and ruffled her little brother's hair playfully, enjoying how he pretended to still be upset when he was trying not to smile. Everything felt so normal that she almost forgot that there was a table full of strangers right in front of her.
Maybe this wasn't going to be too terrible after all.
