Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who sent energon for my muse's revival. She's on the mend, but not quite there yet.

I've been working on the next chapter for quite some time. In the end, it got so huge that I had to divide it into three parts. With a bit of luck (and a hopefully recovered muse) the final part should be up around Christmas. Coincidentally, the story's setting falls nicely into place with the time of the year. :)

I hope you enjoy the first part of three, and please feel free to leave some more energon goodies (aka reviews) for my muse after the reading. ;)

– chapter nine –

Amity to Kin (1)

Usually, once Thanksgiving was over, the weather clearly showed that the year was coming to a close. Rain would turn to snow and the temperatures would drop considerably if they hadn't already throughout November. Beginning of December was the time for first snowball fights, the first snowmen to be built and rising Christmas feeling. The first decorations would be attached to the houses, many people going over the top to attract visitors. My family had so far – thank Goodness – celebrated this important holiday with a small family charm only; anything that wasn't overdone was welcome.

But the only hint I got that Christmas was approaching fast was the self-made cookies Grandma sent us, her note saying that she didn't know whether or not we would get cookies here.

Over the last months, I had somewhat gotten used to the tropical climate that dominated Diego Garcia – meaning high humidity year round. But the only change between summer and winter – which, due to the archipelago lying a few degrees south of the equator, were reversed – was a rise in temperature making the overwhelming heat pure torture. How anyone could survive a day being outside rather than inside air-conditioned buildings was a mystery to me. But somehow I still lived to tell the tale.

It was a Friday when I saw the place where Annabelle lived for the first time. She had forgotten a notebook at lunch but I hadn't been fast enough to catch her. So once school was out, I took my bike and went over to give it back. I didn't know whether the math equations in the notebook were important for her studies so I didn't want to wait till Monday to get it to her.

Her family had a house quite a bit outside the town, a long driveway leading up to it, passing by partly really dense wooden areas; the Lennox's certainly lived remote from the rest of the island's population. The tranquil scenery was completed with a white garage next to the house and a quite large front yard where various colorful flower beds grew. Annabelle was outside and cleaning her father's monster pick-up which sat next to the garage. When I rounded the final corner and first saw her, she stood on the bumper and leaned forward to thoroughly scrub the hood in front of the windshield.

Frowning, I slowly climbed off my bike, pushing it the rest of the way. "Hey," I called in greeting. "What did you do to earn yourself such punishment?"

Annabelle jumped when hearing my voice and nearly lost her foot on the bumper. She regained her balance in the last moment though. "Primus!" she exclaimed. "You scared me, Chloe." When she turned toward me, she had a hand placed over her surely wildly beating heart.

"Sorry," I said, feeling guilty for nearly having caused her to get injured.

While climbing off the bumper and then putting away the sponge, she appeased, "It's all right, nothing happened. And I didn't do anything. I volunteered."

I ogled at her. "Voluntarily wash your Dad's pick-up? Wow." I whistled in appreciation.

Annabelle sniggered. "It's fun," she said, sobering up a little and shrugging. "And it doesn't belong to Dad. It's his friend's, Aaron Hyde's. He… only sometimes lets Dad… borrow it." Nodding toward where I had left my bike on the lawn, she said, "What brings you here in this heat?"

"Oh," I made, remembering the reason why I was drenched in sweat. "You left your notebook at lunch so I wanted to bring it to you." I pulled it out of my rucksack and handed it over.

Annabelle had frowned at first, then it dawned on her. "Oh! Of course. I already missed it but thought I'd just misplaced it in my room. Thanks!"

"You're welcome." I gave her a smile which she returned.

"So, you wanna come in and have a drink to cool down again?" Annabelle proposed. "I don't want you to melt in our front yard."

Laughing, I replied, "Sure."

The house was bigger than ours but similar in architecture. The kitchen and living room were arranged like at home and the stairs leading up to the second floor looked like an exact copy of the ones in our house. Annabelle handed me a lemonade from the fridge; it was heaven.

"I can give you clean clothes too if you like," she offered.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no need. I don't want to impose on you. Just came here to give back the notebook."

"Naw!" Annabelle exclaimed. "You're not imposing! You're welcome to stay. Then I have someone to talk to while I wash the truck."

I grinned. "Sounds like a plan. But I only stay if you let me help with the work. The heat must kill you as much as it kills me."

Annabelle snorted but shook my offered hand. "Deal."

And so I found myself outside once again, next to the most monstrous black pick-up I'd ever seen. Taking the hose Annabelle handed me, I proceeded to rinse out the truck's bed. How a pick-up like that Topkick could have gathered so much dirt and dust in the bed was a miracle. It mustn't have seen water for at least a year, I thought while spraying an especially dirty corner.

"You know, usually Mom would wash the truck," Annabelle said, "but she's at the store, doing some Christmas shopping. A new food delivery arrived just this morning and since we're having quite a few people coming for Christmas dinner, she wanted to go as soon as possible to get what she needs."

I nodded. "Makes sense. I should tell Mom about the new delivery – or even better, do the shopping myself when I drive home."

Annabelle was done with the hood and had moved to the passenger side. She looked at me. "And you can carry the shopping bags while on the bike? Isn't that dangerous?"

I shook my head. "In the states maybe, where people drive like maniacs. But here? There's hardly anyone around."

"True," she agreed and concentrated on the particularly grubby door. "But still. I could ask Mom to drive you when she's back. She's gone for a while already and should be home soon."

"That's really kind, but I'm sure your mom has more important stuff to do than play chauffeur for me," I replied.

"Nah. What are friends for if not for something like that?" She grinned and I returned it.

Returning to rinsing out the truck's bed, I asked, "Where does all this filth come from anyway? The bed looks like it has seen battle with the beach."

Annabelle at first only giggled, trying to suppress it, but then she burst out laughing. Tears were streaming down her cheeks while she tried to say, "We wash it regularly; if not every week, then at least once a month. Have to ask Hyde what he always does to get so dirty."

I nodded. "You do that." But because Annabelle couldn't stop laughing, I started giggling myself.

A few minutes later a minivan came up the driveway, making for the garage next to the house. Mrs. Lennox got out and went straight for the trunk. "Can you help me, Annabelle?" she called over. "You can finish the wash and wax later. I'm sure Iron—"

"Sure," Annabelle called before her mother had finished. "Care to help, Chloe?"

Mrs. Lennox looked up and over to us. "Oh, hi, Chloe. I didn't see you there."

I climbed off the truck's bed and dried my hands on an old towel. Going over to the minivan with Annabelle, I shook hands with Mrs. Lennox. "Hello. And no problem. What can I do to help?"

Annabelle had grabbed a bag right away and was already on her way into the house when Mrs. Lennox handed me another one. "That's very nice of you. If you could take that into the kitchen? Just put it onto the table."

"Of course." I quickly followed Annabelle and handed the bag to her; she had already begun putting the groceries away. As I was free to carry another bag inside, I hurried to the minivan and relieved a struggling Mrs. Lennox of her burden.

"You have no idea how much that helps, Chloe," she said amiably while we walked back inside together. "In this heat the food will go off quickly and I could start anew with the shopping."

Nodding, I said, "Mom has the same trouble, and since she's expecting, she can't do too much anymore. Or at least Dad tries to make sure she takes things easy instead of overworking herself."

"Which is only reasonable. But it probably drives your mother nuts, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically, winking. Annabelle grinned while I nodded in agreement; Mrs. Lennox had hit the mark with her assessment.

While I then helped them unpacking, I couldn't miss the chance commenting on the large variety of ingredients Mrs. Lennox had purchased. "You seem to like baking."

Mrs. Lennox smiled at me, grabbing the first package of flour to stow them away in one of the cupboards. "My guests come with a variety of tastes."

"And Mom prides herself in having everyone's favorite food whenever someone comes to dinner," Annabelle added. Mrs. Lennox threw her an affectionate grin.

I nodded absent-mindedly and handed over another package of flour. "Mom's not much into baking. She really hates it. If it weren't for grandma, we wouldn't have anything like cakes or cookies, ever." I sighed.

"Are you going stateside for the holiday, Chloe?" Mrs. Lennox asked.

I shook my head. "No. As far as I know, Dad is on duty over Christmas. But we'll go during the summer break." I paused, then added, "So it'll be just us three – or four, if you count the unborn baby."

Annabelle looked at me pensively before saying, "Why don't you come over for the dinner on Christmas, Chloe? I'm sure you'd have a great time. Mia, R.C., Hyde and everyone else will be there and –"

Mrs. Lennox tightened her lips. "Honey, we don't want to rush things, do we? Let's talk to your father first before we… decide on whom else to invite."

"But…" Annabelle began, looking toward her mother in confusion. My eyes went back and forth between them. After a moment, Mrs. Lennox raised her eyebrows, like she wanted to tell her daughter something I shouldn't know. Annabelle's confusion grew, but then her eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh," she just made. Biting her lip and playing with her fingers, she turned toward me, embarrassed. "Well…" she stammered.

I relieved her. "Don't worry. I'm sure Mom and Dad have made plans for the Christmas break anyway." I shrugged nonchalantly, although inside I would have loved to accept the invitation – which Mrs. Lennox didn't want to hand out. They were having a party, so? It was hardly a reason to not invite me, was it?

Annabelle looked really chagrinned. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

I shrugged again. "Like I said, don't worry. Another time maybe." And I sent her a smile.

She tentatively returned it, the guilt still visible in her eyes.

…

I came home to Mom and Dad arguing noisily in the kitchen. "— irresponsibility whenever I saw it," Dad was just ranting, somehow managing to still sound calm and composed despite the anger being audible in his choice of words. "What were you thinking, Linda?"

Huffing in irritation but not turning around to look at him, Mom replied, "I told you I was and still am fine, James. Stop fussing!" She was unpacking grocery bags when I glanced into the kitchen; apparently, Mom had been out shopping without Dad, and he was very sensitive toward her overstraining herself during the pregnancy.

I ducked out again before I got caught in the middle of the argument and crept upstairs, but either Mom had suddenly grown eyes at the back of her head or I had made a traitorous noise. She called out to me. "And where exactly have you been, Chloe?" she demanded in a no-nonsense tone. "I had to do your chores. You were supposed to take out the garbage."

"I was?" I asked automatically. Cringing and biting my lip at that slip, I halted and turned back to look at my parents. Mom's eyes were narrowed. I gulped and then explained, "Annabelle forgot her notebook at lunch and I went by her house to give it back to her."

"That was nice of you," Dad commented before Mom could say something.

That statement didn't sit well with her, though. "Oh, so her being in parts unknown is nice whilst I plod to make sure the garbage is taken out in time for the removal?"

"Of course not—"

"Then why are you defending her neglecting her chores? It's not as if she's overscheduled. Taking out the garbage won't hurt her."

Dad took a deep breath to stay calm. "Linda, the garbage won't be collected for another two days. Right now you're blowing things out of proportion. Why don't we discuss this at a later point, when you had the chance to sit down and relax?"

Mom bristled. "And now you're making it sound again as if I'm overstraining myself. I told you I'm fine." She whirled around and continued unpacking. When Dad took a step in her direction, she shot at him, "Don't you have chores to do too, James? Just leave me alone."

Not waiting for the explosion, I ran up the stairs and hid in my room.

About two hours later, while I was deeply immersed in my Spanish homework, Dad came in, carrying the phone. "Annabelle for you, hon," he said.

Sitting up in a flash, I took it. "Hey. What's up? Why are you calling?" I asked while Dad left my room again.

Annabelle's laughter reached my ear. She sounded a little breathless. "Guess what. I called Dad after you left, asking him whether you could come to the Christmas dinner. Mom wasn't happy," she admitted contritely, "saying this was something that could have waited till Dad was home for dinner. But I just had to know, you know?"

I could sympathize with where she was coming from. And she obviously really wanted me to be there for Christmas dinner. "So? Did he say something?"

She hemmed and hawed a little. "Not really. He said there's nothing that would make it impossible for you to come over, but he would have to think about it." She sighed in annoyance. "I don't understand why adults always have to be so complicated. It's really just simple: either you may come, or you may not. What's the hold-up?"

I shrugged. "Yeah…"

"I'll just keep asking him until he gives in. That usually works with Dad," Annabelle said confidently. "You'll see, at the end of the weekend I have them convinced that you'll just have to come to the Christmas dinner." I could easily see the grin that must have been plastered on her face right now. "You'd come if you may, right?"

"Sure! Anything to get away from Mom."

I could literally see how Annabelle perked up at the other end of the line. "Did something happen?" she asked, concern audible in her voice.

Sighing, I replied, "The usual. Mom went all hormonal." I sighed again. "How much longer is this pregnancy going? Can't the baby come already?"

Annabelle laughed. "Well, in that case, how about a get-away option for tomorrow? I messaged Mia, and she agreed to teach you." The breathless excitement of earlier was back in her voice.

Then it clicked with me what she'd been saying. I blinked. "What?" Teach me? I had hoped to not have any studying to do for the next two days; that was why I was doing my homework on a Friday night rather than enjoying the end of the week.

"Nothing to do with school," Annabelle appeased. "Mia is an excellent sniper. She taught me how to shoot. With real, actual weapons."

I raised my eyebrows. "Guns? And your dad allowed that?" I asked, a little incredulous.

Annabelle laughed out loud. "Pistol. And not really. He about had a fit when he found out, but Hyde calmed him down. Guess he's by now accepted that his daughter can handle side-arms. Mia's a great teacher, and she makes sure we're safe. Nothing will happen. So, you game?"

I hesitated. It sounded interesting and would be a great opportunity to not having to spend every waking hour with Mom and Dad over the weekend. I hated weapons, though. They were loud and could easily kill people. I didn't know whether I'd be smart enough to not shoot myself accidentally, but without trying, I'd never know. "Why not? She doesn't happen to have bow and arrow, by any chance, though?" I asked, half-jokingly. Compared to guns, archery was something I wanted to learn one of these days as handling bow and arrow was something entirely different to guns. It was an art.

Annabelle made a pensive sound. "Not sure. I don't think she has, but I could message her to make sure. Would that be more your métier?"

"It's something I'm interested in. But if she hasn't, it's not a problem. Side-arms will be fine for now." Anything to get away from Mom was fine with me, and if Miss Mia made sure I didn't shoot myself, I could live with learning how to handle side-arms.

"Cool. I'll tell Mia to fetch you tomorrow at ten?"

"Sure. Looking forward to it."

…

Miss Mia was punctual. Mom and Dad still sat at the breakfast table when the doorbell rang, but I had been ready for the last hour and had been waiting in my room. I literally flew down the stairs and got to the door before either of my parents could get up. "See you later!" I called before slipping out of the door.

Dad – probably only due to his training over the years – caught me before I could completely bolt out the door, however. "And where exactly are we going?" he asked while I froze on the threshold.

"Well, 'we' – that is Annabelle, Miss R.C and her sister Miss Mia – are going to… the beach," I wildly invented. No need to tell him what we really had planned. I wasn't sure how Dad would react, but Mom certainly would have a fit.

"And where's your swimsuit? Towels?"

Darn! "Ehm… we're not going swimming, Dad. We're having… a picnic."

He regarded me for a moment speculatively, but then he waved with his hand, dismissing me. "Have fun."

"Thanks! Will be back for dinner."

Miss Mia's bike parked just off the curb again. "You certainly have a hand with your parents," she commented, holding out the blue helmet.

I blushed and slammed the helmet onto my head with more force than necessary before getting onto the bike behind Miss Mia. "It's nothing," I mumbled, hiding my face in her back.

She laughed and revved the engine once before slowly driving off down the street. "That was meant as a compliment, Chloe," she told me over the wind. I barely heard her and had to strain to listen. "No need to feel embarrassed."

"Thanks," I mumbled, doubting Miss Mia's seriousness while my cheeks heated in another blush.

Then, as soon as we rounded a corner and were out of sight of the house, Miss Mia suddenly accelerated until we literally flew down the street. Everything around us turned to nothing more than a blur. I clung to Miss Mia like my life depended on it, and due to the speed I had difficulties keeping my feet securely placed on the passenger footrests. The wind whipped around my face – unlike Miss Mia's, my helmet didn't have a visor – making it hard to breathe. I therefore tried to make myself as small as possible behind her back so that I could catch some air every now and then.

Despite the blurry surroundings, I quickly realized we were heading toward Annabelle's home. Miss Mia approached the house without taking away from the speed; only at the very last moment she braked, fishtailing, with the gravel flying in all directions. I screamed until my ears rang and tightened my hold until I surely nearly suffocated Miss Mia. Even after the motorcycle had stopped and straightened up again, it took me a moment before I could climb off with shaky knees. When taking off the helmet, I noticed Miss Mia looking at me with mischievousness shining in her eyes. I blushed furiously.

"You sure know how to scare someone," Mrs. Lennox admonished when she came across the front yard. She hugged me against her side, at the same time glaring in the young woman's direction. "Really, Mia, I thought better of you."

Miss Mia shrugged nonchalantly, opting for an innocent expression. "Fi— Annabelle doesn't get scared."

"Chloe's not Annabelle, remember that." Pulling me away, Mrs. Lennox led me into the house. "Don't take it personally," she told me. "Mia likes to get rowdy every now in a while. She would never hurt you though."

Still a bit shaky, but mostly composed again, I nodded. "Thanks. And it's okay. I just didn't expect her to drive this…" I trailed off, fishing for a word.

"Recklessly?" Mrs. Lennox provided.

"Yeah." I nodded in agreement. "She didn't when she, Annabelle, Miss R.C. and I went for the beach across the bay."

Upon entering the kitchen, Miss R.C. sent me a grin in greeting. "Being reckless with someone is Mia's way of showing her affection," she said; apparently, she had overheard Mrs. Lennox's and my conversation. "She'll keep you safe, though, so don't worry about it."

"I won't," I mumbled into the glass of water Mrs. Lennox had pushed into my hand, feeling a little light-headed all of a sudden. Miss Mia liked me? Wow. After emptying the glass, I asked Miss R.C., "And what brings you here?"

Her grin widened even more. "Our Spanish tutor sessions of course."

I blinked and groaned. "I thought Miss Mia is going to teach me how to shoot."

"And I will," came the reply from the hallway before the speaker herself entered the kitchen.

"But whenever you don't hit the target like you are supposed to, you'll have to do some Spanish grammar tasks," Miss R.C. explained. I groaned again.

"Take it like a femme," Miss Mia advised, hugging me against her side like Mrs. Lennox had earlier. "Besides, I'm not a 'Miss;' that's for wusses. I'm just Mia. Say it," she ordered.

"You're just Mia," I dutifully replied.

"Good. Remember that," she said sternly with a playful grin on her lips.

"And while we're at it," Miss R.C. piped in, "I'm just R.C. Stop calling Mia and me 'Miss.' It makes us feel old."

Before I could respond in any way, Miss M— Mia said, "Now that we've fully discussed that… Come on. The earlier we start the more practice you'll get." And thus she pulled me out to the back yard where there was a small table with various side-arms as well as a target hung up on one of the trees approximately fifty feet away. Annabelle was preparing one of the guns, but put it back when seeing me.

"Hey," she greeted and briefly hugged me. "Ready for some action?"

Glancing warily at Mi— R.C. coming to sit on the veranda, I answered, "Sure – but not for the Spanish in case I miss."

Annabelle laughed. "Well, there's a simple way to get around Spanish." At my expectant look, she said, "Just don't miss." There was booming laughter from all around me, but at least everyone meant well, not to embarrass me. It was a small consolation.

…

Shooting with guns was an interesting experience. You had to stretch out your arm but tighten your muscles to keep it straight. However, the moment you release the shot, you need to loosen the muscles again in order to soften the repercussion resulting from the power with which the bullet is fired. I had my fair share of trouble with it; either my hand was shaking too much until I got used to the weight of the pistol, and then the repercussion of the shot let me stagger back, once even so much so that I stumbled over an uneven part of the ground and fell onto my butt. Mia was at my side in a flash, inquiring whether everything was all right, and then she helped me stand up again.

"Don't stress too much," she said. "Take it slowly and shoot only when you're certain you can keep your arm steady." She gently pummeled me back into position and came to stand directly behind me. Taking my wrist, she steadied my arm and aligned hers to mine. "Take your time with aiming," she advised. "Nice and slow. Deep breaths; that helps with finding your inner strength. Now, steady, slowly pull the trigger…" Her finger lay over mine and pushed down until the bullet shot free from its hold. "… and once you fired, pull the pistol up." With our arms aligned and her finger holding mine captive over the released trigger, I had no choice but to make the same arm movement she made – with the result that I hardly felt the repercussion.

I was floored. "Wow," I said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She nudged me playfully. "Only next time no last-minute shaker when you pull the trigger. You might even hit the target then."

I blushed in embarrassment. "I'll try."

R.C. then called down from the veranda, "Translate the following sentence: 'I will shoot straight next time.'"

Since it was Annabelle's turn to practice, I could concentrate on my tutoring lesson. It took me some time though. "Yo disparo derecho la próxima vez?" I eventually tried and looked at R.C. warily.

She sighed. "You mixed up the tenses again, Chloe. 'La próxima vez' indicates future. It describes an action to come. Can you follow?"

I slowly nodded. "Yeah…"

"Then try again."

I rummaged in my mind, trying to remember how to conjugate in future tense, but came up empty. R.C. apparently noticed because she grabbed one of the various books lying open around her, shoving it in my direction. I walked up to where she sat and read the passage she pointed out for me – twice, just to make sure I had really gotten it. I translated the sentence in my head, testing how it sounded, then nodded absent-mindedly to myself.

R.C. took that as her cue to ask, "So, how does the sentence have to be translated correctly?"

"Yo dispararé derecho la próxima vez," I said, this time certain that I got it right.

"Grammatically correct but rarely used in common speech. There's the futuro próximo for everyday usage."

"Err…" I glanced at the book again, but R.C. covered the page so I was left to my own devices. However, in that moment, I remembered. "Yo voy a disparar derecho la próxima vez."

R.C. nodded approvingly and smiled. "Correct. Now back to shooting. It's your turn again."

And that's how we spent the morning until Mrs. Lennox called us to lunch. She had prepared pasta, and it was delicious. The topic over lunch was – of course – my progress with target practice. "Still shaking, but she's nearing the target more and more. I'm sure by the end of today she'll have the hang of it," Mia said.

R.C. nodded. "Until then, we'll have the tenses ingrained into her."

Mrs. Lennox glared at the two. "You talk about Chloe as if she wasn't here. Stop being so rude." Turning toward me, she asked, "Do you want some more cheese on your pasta, my dear?"

"Please. Thanks, Mrs. Lennox."

Annabelle downed her glass of water. "It took me a while to get the hang of it as well," she said while refilling the glass. "Nobody's perfect right away. You'll learn eventually."

Before I could answer, the front door opened and Mr. Lennox came in, followed by Mr. Hyde. There was the general commotion when everyone greeted the newcomers, then Mr. Hyde sat down next to Mia while Mrs. Lennox filled a plate for him. "Are you sure there'll be something left for Will?" he asked bluntly when the plate filled to the brim was set before him.

Mrs. Lennox laughed, already filling a second plate for her husband, piling the pasta on it. "Of course; there's more still in the oven, Hyde. Nobody'll starve at my table."

He nodded, digging in. "Good. I don't want to be responsible for the death of one of my family."

Mr. Lennox snorted, amused. "That's a first, Hyde," he retorted playfully.

Mr. Hyde huffed amidst the laughter of Mrs. Lennox, R.C. and Mia.

I leaned over to Annabelle and quietly asked, "His family? I thought he's just a friend."

Annabelle nodded. "He is, but he and Dad are really tight," she answered in the same low voice. "They've worked together for years already and been in enough tight spots. That sort of work forged a bond between them. Dad's like family to him, and so are Mom and I. Mia and Hyde are an item as you'll probably already noticed, and with R.C. being Mia's sister, we've all become like a big family. That includes all the others." She smiled.

"You mean your father's co-workers, right?"

"Yes." Annabelle nodded.

"That sounds really nice," I commented, my mind coming up with images of a large family where everyone loved everyone.

"Yep, it really is," R.C. said from next to Annabelle, apparently having overheard our whispered conversation. "The Lennox's are kin to us and will always be."

I of course knew the word 'kin,' but to me it sounded like it had a much deeper meaning the way R.C. used it. From what I've witnessed, the Christiansen sisters were really close, more like twins than just sisters, and even though it looked like brawling to me the first time I'd seen them together, Mia and Mr. Hyde gave the impression of being deeply devoted to each other. That the Lennox's were close with the three was obvious, but I had never thought that these two families were more than just friends. And they included their fellow comrades, too. There was a small sense of longing within me that wished to be part of this kinship.

…

After lunch, we went back to the shooting practice. Mia helped me some more until I hit the target dead-on. Annabelle cheered and I grinned goofily. It was a great feeling of having accomplished this much in such a short time. But as soon as I was left to my own devices, my aim was off again, sometimes even quite far which resulted in more Spanish grammar tasks for me to solve.

Mr. Hyde had opted to sit down next to R.C., watching us practice shooting. Whether or not it was a male thing or just a personal quirk of him, he continuously gave comments like "hold your hand steady before shooting," or "where in Primus' name did you learn to aim?" or even "the target already is as big as it can be. You must be blind to miss like you just did."

Eventually, Mia lost her patience with him. After another miss from my side and an unnecessary commentary from Mr. Hyde, she whirled around and hissed in his direction, "I can handle her. I know how to teach a youngling."

Annabelle added, "Mia's a great teacher, Hyde. She taught me after all."

Mr. Hyde wasn't impressed. "I know Mia can teach how to shoot, and with parents like yours, Annabelle, there was no way you wouldn't have learned fast. However, I wasn't discriminating Mia's teaching abilities. I merely advised Chloe to aim straight."

I blushed while Annabelle defended me. "She knows that. She still has trouble with her arm shaking too much. Give her time; your comments don't help speed her up learning how to shoot straight."

Just the moment Mr. Hyde opened his mouth to reply, Mrs. Lennox came onto the veranda, carrying a tray with drinks. "Be nice, everyone. This day is too beautiful for hurting words. And if you need something to do to keep you occupied, Hyde, why don't you go into the garage to Will? You could help him with washing the car."

The Christiansen sisters smirked at each other and then R.C. said, "Have fun, warrior."

Annabelle added in a playful ribbing, "Yeah, go help Dad wash the car, Hyde. Leave us femmes handle the weapons."

Grouchy at not being wanted, Mr. Hyde got up and walked around the house, all the way grumbling something along the line of "Primus, what did I do to earn kin like them?" It was obvious, however, that he took it all amiably.