A/N: Multitasking hurts :(


Aphex Twin - Lichen


...

— Welcome to the Jugend, ladies – said a burmecian Dragoon, who stood before Freya, Hrist and Alba. He wore a deep royal blue coat and a pair of yellow scarfs tied to his neck – I hope you have a nice stay.

— Thanks – third day at the Dragoon academy, and Freya Crescent is still getting used to new faces.

— And you are? – while Hrist Chardonnay knows every single one of them. Well, almost.

— My name is Gizamaluke – the black-furred rodent knight presented himself, with a royalty tone in speech – the fifth son of Master Gizamaluke's lineage, protector of the sacred Grotto, ruler of Water's gift, grandson of Gizamaluke IV, who fought alongside King Graham in the Battle of Crystal Teardrops, defeated a horde of thousands Grand Dragons on its own, married a woman called Lydia and-

— Nice, nice – said Hrist, clapping while as well interrupting the heartfelt conversation of her comrade – very nice, Giza-chan.

— Pardon? – Gizamaluke is confused by the young lady's attitude – you called me... Giza-chan?

— Why, isn't that your name? – and Hrist smiles.

— No, it's not. I am Gizamaluke, the Fifth son-

— Oh, here we go again... – the purple knight keeps the smile at face, with her eyes staring at the sycamore tree and the clouds above.

— Can I continue, please? – said Gizamaluke, who demanded of attention to his words.

— There's a thing called monologue, you see – and Hrist doesn't give none. She pays more attention to the gray skies.

— Nice scarf – said Freya, whose eyes stared at Gizamaluke's uncanny scarfs. They were like an octopus tentacles, and the wind made them look as if they were sentient somehow – is it made of hundreds of beetle's guts?

— Why, yes – Gizamaluke said, as he layed his claw and gently touched his own scarf – it's made of the finest 30000 red palm weevil's entrails. How did you knew?

— Ezekiel owns one too – Freya recalled.

— Do you know Ezekiel Chardonnay?

— Yeah, he's my daddy – Hrist's mind came out of the clouds, right as she turned her eyes to the so called Gizamaluke.

— Excúse me, but I'm talking with the white-haired lady, please.

— (Gee, what a polite way to say shut up...) – said Hrist to herself, while holding of her breath and crossing arms. She'd also swollen her cheeks on purpose whenever the feelings of anger and disappointment hit inside – (don't you agree, Alba?)

— [INDEED] – Alba spoke to Hrist throught her telepathic flames.

— (Oh, how am I supposed to be angry while near you, ginger miss) – despite the headache which follows, Hrist enjoys of Alba's company.

— So, you are Gizamaluke? – as a kid, Freya heard the old tales of Burmecia before sleeping. Some of them were less fantastic than others, a few which sounded more like prayers than epics, though they had quite an impression on the little mice girl throught the years.

— The Fifth one, my lady. At your pleasure – Gizamaluke said, taking off his onyx helmet as he proceeded to kiss the crimson Dragoon's left arm – Freya Creedence?

— Crescent. Oh my... – Freya felt shiver sent at skin, together of a cold and warm sensation – I am flattered.

— And yes, I can guarantee I'm from a noble lineage, young pretty miss – Gizamaluke put the winged helmet back on his head, as he smelled his scarf like a rose's petal – my ancestors were responsible for the foundation of this well-regarded academy we're at. See that Dragon's face between the woods? The one covered in moss? It was a gift from King Heidegger to Gizamaluke II, one of the greatest headmasters of the Jugend.

— As great as daddy? – once again, Hrist found a way to meddle in the talk.

— Oh, you're Ezekiel's daughter – and Gizamaluke stares at her, with a surprise look followed of a gut reaction – I heard about you. You have, ahem... quite a reputation around.

— You smell nice – the purple knight said, with a smile on face yet again.

— What?

— My friend here told me you smell nice – Hrist said, as she pointed to Alba. The ginger burmecian giggled shyly.

— Okay... – eventually, Gizamaluke stopped thinking – anyway, I suppose you're in here for training.

— No, we're in here for a casual visit – Freya said, while appreciating of the view she had of the gardens around the Jugend. To think they barely remained unchanged for centuries... – it's not like we'll soon beat each other to death, is it?

— Hey, I am the one supposed to be sarcastic, what's that? – usually, Hrist ain't friendly at all with others.

— Sigh... Just feeling a bit nervous – and Freya is supposed to be the tough one, by the eyes of many.

— No, who said that we would beat each other to death? What the hell, Crescent? – no one can make a tough impression all time, Hrist reflected.

— Who said that to you? – even Gizamaluke is afraid.

— Well... you? – Freya looked right at Hrist.

— Me? – to which Hrist's hair creeped, in an agonizingly surreal way – I was joking.

— Given the way you said it all, I thought it was true.

— Yeah, you thought... wrong! – Hrist yelled, brushing her crispy and irritated hair with a claw – I'd never harm you, darling. A cute like you, who would!? Oh, did you said anything, Crescent?

— Were you listening to me? – Freya hated when no one listened to her worries and complains.

— I'm sorry, but Alba and I were trading knowledge – Hrist was smiling more than usual. She acts weird near Alba, almost like a completely different person.

— Not the fruitful kind – said Freya, who wondered whose kind of knowledge the two knights were sharing to one another. Gossips that do not interest me, unless they're about me, the red Dragoon thought.

— I won't lie, you'll get injured for sure. More than you did back when you were beating up a poor, innocent tree to its demise – Hrist never forgets.

— Do they still do it? – Gizamaluke wondered to himself – oh my... Gizamaluke the Third had to go throught same ordeal in order to get his Juglans javelin, and with that very weapon, he single-handed crushed a whole armada of alexandrian soldiers! Impressive, isn't it?

— Really impressive – Freya was not amazed at all, though the child within nurtured of those stories with fondness. All of sudden, she heard a tiny squeak noise behind Gizamaluke – ...is that a tail between your scarfs?

— Oh! – not only a tail, but a boy's yawning face popped up out of it as well – so you woke up...

— Who's that boy? He's d-d-d-adorable! – Hrist flushed after looking at the toddler, her cheeks turned red like plums.

— Behold! You are in the presence of Gizamaluke VI! – Gizamaluke's sight was filled of pride. As for his son's eyes... he blinked and looked around, confused and unaware of where he was – one day, he might become the King of Burmecia. It's his first day at the Jugend, and my heartbeat is all over the place.

— Is that why you wear all these scarfs? – they sure look comfy, thought Hrist, who looked at the little Gizamaluke holding on to his father.

— He likes them – Gizamaluke V said, as tears eventually rolled down his eyes – sob... guess fatherhood eventually comes to all of us.

— It sure does. Hi, Luke! – Hrist presented herself to the youngest member of the Gizamaluke family.

— Luke? Who's Luke?

— Yeah. He's Luke, and you are Giza – how Hrist enjoyed to leave Gizamaluke V with a vague and foggy look.

— And the 'Ma'? – ohgodIcantbelieveImdoingit, though Freya.

— Be a good Ma, Giza.

— Right... – Gizamaluke had no clear idea if he was being fooled by Hrist or not. Whatever that was – the young today... I don't get them at all.

— Hrist is in good mood, it's all you have to get – Freya said, leaving her usual quiet and insular self – trust me, you don't want to upset her.

— Of course I do not – the Fifth Gizamaluke heard the rumours about a teenager who broke the school's cobblestone path with her hair. As it seems, these were not rumours. The knight in royal dark blue colors felt a pull of hair out a tiny claw – huh? Oh, that's you. You want to say something, son?

— Daddy – the boy stared at his father with lucid eyes, his voice filled of joy, and then – ...I poop.

— Oh, my... – Gizamaluke V covered his nose – if you excuse me, I'll have to, to... I hate this. Where are my servants when I need them? No matter, a Gizamaluke is always there to do the dirty job! Hmm... that didn't sounded right, but you know what I mean.

— Yes, we do – Hrist said, waving her hand to the Gizamaluke rushing inside the academy – smell you later!

– That Gizamaluke guy is a walking info dump, don't you think? – said Gray Rhinehart, throwing a dice in the air as he walked outside the doors of Jugend – guy is so full of himself for belonging to a royal lineage and stuff.

— Hello, info dump number two – Hrist looked at Gray, with her eyes covered by her brown strands – I don't blame Giza, though. Had I been born in a cradle of gold, I too would act like my life is awesome and tell it to everyone else.

— You surely were born in one of these, Hairy – Gray could not stop throwing the dices in air. He was unsure of what to say and what to do next. As the dice's sides fall on his claw – four. Well, if not, your father afforded you with the best. Hi, Freya spelled without the 'j'.

— Not again... – Freya closed her eyes and took a heavy breathe. It's going to be a rough day, for sure.

— Five. Yeah, the neighbor's grass is always greener.

— For once in your life, could you talk like a normal burmecian being? – the throw of dices is getting on Hrist's nerves. Their relationship was built on a certain mutual acerbity.

— Normal, you say? Is there anything more repugnant than a muroid rodent be assimilated to an erect hominid and be either compared to a filthy rat to a disgusting human being? – said Gray, all cynical. As the dice told him to be. He throws them once again, and gets a number – two. Oh, my apologies. I got all worked out in front of you, pretties.

— Pretty, he said? – Hrist was not convinced at all that Gray has took a risk on its own – sometimes I want to believe you borrow of self-esteem, Mr. Rhinehart. Either that, or you lack everything, including shame.

— Three – another dice threw by Gray, he gets another result – you drink water, while I drink anarchy. As for self-esteem... it's all fake and illusion! That's what cool is about. That's what charisma is! Don't you agree with me?

— Whose you?

— Well – it doesn't take long for Gray to reply to Hrist. With a single threw of his pair of dices, by chance he's been afforded an answer. Even if it's not a clear one – gosh... see you later. I'm gonna eat some, eugh... snails.

— Have fun! – for a moment, Hrist felt the knight's frustation. He didn't specified if he was willing to eat raw or cooked snails – you see, Gray is like the kid who got hammered in the head by playing too much Truth or Dare.

— Hammered by life, as it seems – this place is full of eccentric people, thought Freya after seeing Gray hunt for his food in the garden – I heard he became a Knight by just throwing a dice to decide his fate.

— [Good thing is, he doesn't take things at face value.]

— Oooh! – Freya felt Alba's words burn inside her brain. She is miles away of getting used to that.

— Thanks, Alba! You caught me off guard too! – a bit of blood poured out Hrist's nose – whew, that was intense. You see, Crescent, Alba needs to concentrate a lot to say a full sentence throught her flames. Unfortunately, when she does that... why did you do that!?... Oh, you were testing your powers. See? At the tip of my finger, dripping red, do you see?... This is what happens when you try to talk with people who are not used to your kind of talk. You hear me? Please, don't do that ever again.

— Are not you being a bit harsh with her, Hrist? – despite the migraine on head, Freya slowly recovers her equilibrium.

— Oh! I'm sorry, Alba. I didn't meant to hurt your feelings – Hrist spoke softy, before hugging her flaming friend – I know how much you want to talk with your voice, sing to the birds crossing the midsummer skies, have people understand who you are without being afraid of your delightful skills. You said you're sorry?... Okay, I accept your apologies. You didn't meant to, I know that! Boop! Got your nose, hehehehe...

— The power of friendship, everyone – Freya could not stand Hrist's way of treatment to someone as powerful as Alba.

— Alright, whose snail should I eat? – Gray came out of the grass, with his body covered in by snails.

— Eugh... Why are you asking me? – Hrist felt disgust, thought burmecian crystal snails looked pretty on their own. The shells, at least – don't you have a dice to give you the answers?

— Well, I asked the dice, and he told me to ask to you.

— Really!? You've got to be kidding me – Hrist looked at Freya and Alba. Both shrugged – okay, why don't you ask your stupid dice if you really want to eat these snails? They did nothing wrong...

— If you say so – and the dice shall tell me, Gray thought to himself. With the dice, he could be more than the empty shell of himself and become someone else, whose life isn't dicted by strict rules other than the throw of a dice – odd goes to yes, even to no. Here we go... no? Thank God-oops, I mean, the Dice.

— That makes us even – Hrist said, feeling reliefed.

— I guess – so did Gray – I think one snail came inside my mouth, argh! They don't taste good at all, what was I thinking!? Whatever, I'll get rid of them.

— Finally, you're thinking for yourself! – more relief came to Hrist.

— What else can I say? I'm only human – while Gray's thoughts were a mess – a human that happens to be a rat too. I am flawed, living of a paradoxical existence in itself, I am lots of things while I wish I could be none of them. Phew! It'll take some time to let it go off these snails, ooh! So, be seeing you at training... or NOT! Aaaah!

— This place is full of eccentric people – Freya confirmed to herself.

— Eccentric, you say? – a thing Hrist already knew – Gray... he's just a weirdo. A goof, tragic and misunderstood weirdo. That, or he's just pathetic. We'll see if he's good or not at training. Same for you, Crescent.

— I'll be ready – Freya shared of a burning and striking look in face. The very confidence of a brave warrior – when Sir Fratley arrives, of course.

...

The Stepford's home.

— ...When Raymie was two years old, he learned to walk by himself. Do you remember?

— Yes, I do – today, April is feeling quite nostalgic. I could tell by her soft and shimmering voice.

— I wonder if he remembers... There was a day you left this house. Raymie stood in front of the door, sitting, awaiting for you. Soon as you came in, Raymie walked to you and, before falling, he grabbed your leg and holded tight onto it.

— I had the utmost care for walking around with that little thing glued my leg – five years ago, is it right? How time passes...

— To think Raymie would never be able to walk again if you haven't done something – I hear the washing of dishes. April's skin by the tip of fingers wrinkles and doesn't stop to wrinkle.

— If WE haven't done something, April – she still feels bad for the whole leech thing – sure, Raymie risked his life for a few tips. He had good intentions, though he also did it so to strengten his ego. Is that bad? I don't know. The bad is that he got hurt, so did we. It's complicated.

— Indeed. I believe Raymie won't do that again, am I a fool?

— I don't know, April. I recall something my father used to say... a quote echoing on my mind to this day. Something like 'When a man figures out how to fix problems between men, then he'll be ready to solve the problem between men and the world'; I was not sure of what he meant to say by that, but now I understand. The little issues one pretends to ignore are as important, if not, the ones that create the bigger ones. I can't imagine what would happen had not I walked right at Raymie and treated his bites.

— Neither I want. I prefer to ignore such painful moments and remember the times where Raymie holded tight on you, not letting go of your leg – that very scene still warms April's heart and often makes her cry of happiness. I thought I would not find a place in Burmecia to call home. Or even find someone as caring and loving as April – you know, my husband used to leave by the front door and Raymie waited for his return. So did I... sob.

— I see – and there was a day Albert never came back. Little I knew about that fellow, only that he and his wife were in some dire straits, in need of an extra money. And I in need of a dry shelter – do you ever regret not making the right decision when you had the opportunity to do so?

— Whose opportunity? – April offered me a cup of coffee like this. It's still good enough.

— You know which one – and then it turns cold. I don't mean the coffee – I could not convince Albert to not go to the field.

— Even if I told him the world was about to end, he was too stubborn to hear me – I haven't saw April cry ever since that day. It's the least of things I want to hear – besides, he had friends in the army.

— Were they more important than you?

— Albert has not fought for me, but the whole of Burmecia. He didn't had to die for that, though – I feel her heartbeat slow down for a moment, as if by every mention of her deceased husband... I don't want to further this talk, I'm done with that.

— Sorry if I am responsible for making you remember... you know, that awful moment in your life.

— Oh, please don't be! I have lost more people than I can count with my fingers, Albert as well, so it's not much of a surprise I miss him like I miss my father, my grandfather or my aunt Emma – April said, as she cleaned a dish after another – now this is the world and how things have always been, nobody lives forever.

— Of course we do! – and I help her with the dishes. Four hands are better than two – my father... I mean, my two fathers, they still live within me. All they told and teached me about this world and who I am to this world and myself.

— They say the blindmen are focused to see inward – indeed we are, April. I can feel the microbes scrolling through the porcerlain, nothing I touch isn't really clean, or free of germs and disease. It frightens me. To feel that everyone I touch is sick, even someone as loving and caring as April...

— We are all forced to picture an ideal world, but to live in the real one... that's a challenge for everyone – sure, I 'see' a lot of bacteria throught my fingers, but the majority of them are harmless, even good for the planet – sometimes, I wonder if humanity isn't made of parasites. I mean, we take to ourselves what Gaia has given us for free, and we call it our own, be its sugary fruits, its majestic forests, its brave and bold beasts...

— Not all of us are parasites. We benefit from the efforts of one another, like a brotherhood, a family, or a society. Sure, things are not as good as they might ideally sound, many are starving and homeless and living life by the edge of a knife, but as long as there is someone to fight against these odds, to show that there's hope for a better world to be soiled... Albert died together of his comrades. He didn't expected to be rewarded or anything the many times he fought and came back home, because he already had someone else. He grew a family, and to think he ain't here to see that.

— Well, I'm here, to anything you need – aaand! We're done with the dishes, thankfully.

— Thanks, Fratley – I do enjoy of April's company, she reminds me of my mother. How many burmecian mothers are not widowed ones? Better, how many of them are strong enough to keep life going? I'd say all of them.

— Anything, except being Albert's replacement.

— I see a bit of Albert in you – April said, as she ran her claws on my face, coolly. Okay... – courageous, daring, cunning... a doofus.

— A doofus, me?

— Not usually, but yes, it's undeniable.

— How so? A guy like me, who can tell the scent of the neighbor's flowers from here, and I don't mean his wife...

— Sir Fratley, you are a jerk!

— Oh, I love you too! – April is right. Guess I am a doofus.

/\/\/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\_

— Sometimes, you really get on my nerves – I feel April's heartbeat. She does not seem upset all, just amused. Maybe both – but you are of great help when needed, Sir Fratley. After all, you are part of the family.

— Am I? – did it took that long for you to realize what's going on? – well, thank you. A huge thank you for all these years of hospitability. You see, I never had a proper family. I had a mom and dad that loved each other as much as they loved their sons, yet, deep inside, they were a dysfunctional wreck. Dad was a traveller by nature, out of home most the time, while mom was a housewife who never left Burmecia.

— I too would like to leave this place. Feel the warmth of the sun, at least – maybe one day, April. You, me and the kids, we could visit the world outside – also, what do you mean by 'dysfunctional'? This if you want to talk, I'm not forcing at all.

— No, it's okay. I was too little to know. Too little to care... dad left home not because he or his sons enjoyed of an adventure, but that was his opportunity to run away from the problems surrounding his life. He saw mom as a problem, a stone in the middle of the way. He loved her, of course, but that does not mean they never had awful days.

— Let me guess... he was never the same after war – I nod to April.

— No one has felt like themselves after the Battle of Glass Tears from years ago. I do not mean the soldiers alone, but us too. The kids who were waiting eagerly for their parents to come home safe and sound. The good is that we were more united than ever.

— Not all of us. There were excluded kids, who felt dislocated with themselves and those around. The ones who didn't wanted to be paid attention to not look like, you know, weirdos.

— I was a 'weirdo' too, the way you said – ah, nostalgia... I should have realized. How much I suffer from that – for some lucky reason, I made a few friends.

— I had one friend whose mother was a very restrictive one – so does April – she could not spot a smudge on her son's clothes that she would wash then right away. She was all like 'do not poke your nose!', 'do not play in the mud!', 'do not climb the tree, you'll get splinters at the tip of your fingers!', 'do not touch Kyle, he got chickenpox!', 'do not eat sugar, it'll rot your teeth!', that one mom was tougher than mine, gee! And she told her son to not do these things everytime he left home.

— In other words, telling him to not be a kid – well, who am I to tell how a mother is supposed to raise her children? There are limits to everything, though – and this friend of yours?

— Patrick? That was his name, I guess. He was not much of a friend, our lifes barely touched. I heard his mom talking to him once, and I felt pity. Who would not feel same? So, I invited him to play hopscotch. While we played, he said things like 'I can't stand in the rain or else I'll get cold', 'I can't walk on grass or else a bug will bite me and infect me and poison me', 'I can't step on mud or else the vermins will crawl my feet and suck my blood and my skin will be yellow and it's gonna hurt'.

— I wonder from who he heard those words...

— Yes, Patrick was a weird kid. The other kids didn't liked to play with him, they called him boring, idiot, the one who ruined all the fun. I can't say I really liked him either, most of the time I was on the side of the bullies. What else could I do? Patrick was still a weirdo, no matter what. He was isolated from the rest, and prefered to live that way.

— I understand – perhaps a lot. That kid April told me about could have been me.

— One thing that fascinated me from Patrick is that he said to me and everyone he met that he could see the germs at the tip of his fingers. He saw it everywhere, little things moving amongst people, making them sick, dehibilated, injured, poisoned... it was as if the entire Burmecia was contaminated.

— Just one kid, by its mother's doing – and that's what I meant by having limits at taking care of children. To think my old family looks healthier by comparasion... – how's he doing today?

— I don't know. I heard no news of Patrick ever since. It feels like I became close of his due pity, and nothing else – the pressure is too much for April, as she sits on a chair to reflect.

— I too felt same way when I first met Jack and Dan, like they became my friends because they could not say no to someone, let's say... 'special'.

— You are pretty much special in an unique way.

— I mean as a kid. The feeling of discovery and need to show it to everyone, like when I read in a book about different types of corn – I explained to April, who's all ears. Not like everyone I knew back then – I rushed to my dear friends and told them that there is purple corn, red corn, a rainbow of corns at the highest mountains.

— And what they said?

— I can't remember. To each of my finds, my friends were like 'okay cool'. They didn't shared same amusement as I did. It's like I bored them out with my conversations.

— I'd listen to everything you have to say all day, but you see... – April stood quiet for a moment, reflecting about her compromisses. We all have these – oh, I almost forgot! I have to pick up Danny and meet the doctor. I hope my son gets better soon.

— Me too – Danny doesn't deserve to feel that bad. From here I can feel his faint heartbeats, together of his chin boiling like a volcano.

— That will be my opportunity to visit my sister as well – April said, as she went upstairs.

— Yes, that's right – I could cure Danny on my own, if I had the time to do it so – Newell and Dianne... what was I thinking...

— Who are these? – April heard me. I was caught off guard.

— Oh! – no need to hide anything from her – these days, I told Phoebe that her brothers were called Newell and Dianne...

— Really? Hmmm... wait, who's been reading my diary!? – that expression on her face... I wish I could picture that with my very eyes. As for the slap that's about to come in face, not really – it's hard to come up with baby names, you know.

— I know – OUCH!... well, have I been asking for a slap? April ain't of the kind who does that – your handwriting...

— It sucks, doesn't it?

— Not really. Specially when it comes to dots the i's with hearts.

— Newell? Who the heck is that!? – Ingus came in, yawning.

— Hey! Momma's gonna have another brother? – so did Raymie.

— What!? No way! No way you can't! – Archie pleaded to his mother.

— How many times do I have to tell you to not run at the stairs? – April said, disappointed with the boys.

— Sorry, mom – they all said, echoing of a kind of harmony.

— Is it true, mom? You're going to have a baby? – harmony that does not last long soon as Raymie comes up with a question.

— No, who said that? – April is confused.

— How are babies born? – Raymie is still waiting for someone to deliver an answer for that...

— We'll talk about it later – and we all say the same thing, don't we, April?

— Later, huh? I heard it a lot – Raymie is an unpatient kid.

— There's no need for another brother, mom. Four devils like us are already too much – said Ingus, upset with the very idea of having to watch another of his brothers. To be the older brother is a hard task – well, five if you count Phoebe.

— Your sister ain't a devil. She's an angel – April watched Phoebe crawl to her direction. How long has it been since little Phoebe learned to fled from her crib?

— Uh huh. An angel with teeth, mom – Ingus still felt the bite on his tail – I'm hungry! What's there for breakfast?

— There's bread, cheese, ham and oran-

— Help! My head got stuck! – before April could complete her sentence, Raymie began to yell. His head got stuck between stair rail.

— Not again... – I know, Ingus. Raymie tried to pull his head, desperately.

— Don't worry, my brother. I have the solution! – Archie said, before he swallowed spit and prepared to...

— Archie, no! – yes, April. That's not a good solution – I have a better idea. Fratley, can you bring some honey?

— Sure – did I heard 'Fratley honey, can you bring some honey'? No, that's not right. Honey... I can feel its sugary smell inside the cabinet, the jar that's right next to... oats? Close – here it is.

— Good. Bring it here – I have no exact idea what 'here' means, but I listen to April's worries and I follow to her location. I try to imagine some arrows pointing to where I should go, that or leave in absolute darkness – thank you, Fratley.

— Ouchie ouchie! – Raymie pulled his head out. He's all covered in honey – yum... that's delicious.

— Never get your head stuck again, stupid! – Ingus realy gets unpatient quickly.

— I'm not stupid!

— Yes you are!

— No I'm not!

— Yes you are!

— No, I am NOT! – me and April honestly can't tell whose side we are. Ingus, Raymie... Instead, we just hear the boys blather.

— Enough, kids – until it gets tiresome.

— Right, mom – they all obey April. Except Phoebe, she does whatever she wants. Her mother does not mind the chewing of hair.

— Hey Frattie, you read mother's diary? – Archie asked. I'm ashamed to admit I read it, even with a single nod – how the heck do you read?

— With my fingers – I explain how it works. It's actually kinda cool – I feel the texture of each page and density of ink. That would not be possible if I haven't learned the alphabet, so you know.

— Your fingers? Whoa... – Archie is astonished

— We already knew that – Ingus... not so much.

— I know. But it doesn't stop being so cool. Can you teach me that? – Raymie is the curious one. He often gets in a lot of trouble due curiosity.

— Later. I have to work.

— You have to work at the Jugend, don't you? Mind if you take care of my kids? – April makes a request – they will behave well... is that right?

— Yes, mom! – behave well? These kids? Not sure, but whatever.

— Why not, April? I'd do anything for you – what else could I say? April is at my side, in front of me. That feeling when you're so close of someone you can tell what that person ate by its breath...

— Kiss her! – Ingus took notice.

— Quiet, Ingus – April said, embarrased as much as I. She goes to the front door, holding little Phoebe at arms and Danny with a hand – well, I'd better be going. Be seeing ya.

— Bye – April's weary footsteps vanish in the middle of rain, slowly replaced by the noise of hungry stomaches and saliva drops. Soon I'll be taking care of the kids, and I don't mean those at Jugend, hehe.

...