Patterns of Behaviour
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Elena of Avalor
Copyright: Disney +
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How in the Ever Realm did I get stuck with babysitting duty? Fourteen-year-old Esteban Flores grumbled to himself as his seven-year-old cousin pulled on his sleeve for what felt like the millionth time. Doing his schoolwork in the garden had seemed like a good idea at first, but the rustling leaves and buzzing insects were more distracting than calming, and absolutely anyone could interrupt him. A nosy little cousin, for example.
"What are you working on?" Isabel chirped.
"Math problems."
He scowled at his textbook, papers, pencils, compass and ruler, which he'd been stewing over for so long the triangles, numbers and letters were an incomprehensible blur. All three cousins shared a tutor, and if Elena outshone him in class tomorrow, he'd never hear the end of it. Elena might be the heir and everybody's favorite, but he was the smart one in this family. He wasn't letting anyone take that away.
"Can I see?"
She peered over his shoulder, leaving an inky handprint on his white sleeve. He brushed her off and shielded his half-finished, scribbled-over paper. "It's geometry. You're too little to understand."
"No, I'm not!" Isabel pouted.
"Don't you have schoolwork of your own?"
"I finished it all. It's too easy. I'm bored." She looked up at Esteban with imploring brown eyes. "Please, primo? I wanna study something interesting."
"How you can find any of this interesting is a mystery to me … " He struck a thinker's pose, one hand to his chin, momentarily forgetting to shield his paper. The little girl took advantage of his distraction to snatch the paper and run away with it. "Hey!"
Esteban jumped up out of his chair and grabbed for the paper, but Isabel skipped along the garden path with surprising speed, reading as she went.
"You got this one wrong," she informed him loftily, "This one too," as she snatched up a pencil from his desk and started scribbling corrections.
"I did not!" Esteban's teenage voice cracked into an embarrassing yelp. "How can you possibly know that?"
"The library, of course. Geometry's not that difficult." The blue bow in her hair wobbled as she shook her head in frustration, looking more like their tutor than such a young child had any right to look. "All you have to do is see how it fits together."
Esteban seethed. If there was anything he hated, it was feeling stupid. It reminded him of his first weeks at the palace after his parents' deaths, always using the wrong cutlery at meals or addressing someone by the wrong title or otherwise not fitting in. His family had been nice about it (mostly), but the other noble children had made it obvious what an ignorant oaf he was. Well, not anymore. He'd worked hard to catch up academically and socially - even the Herrera girls were friends with him now - and no way in the Dark Side was he going to be shown up by a seven-year-old.
"Can you not do that?" he snapped.
"Do what?" She blinked up at him innocently.
"Be such a bossy little know-it-all?" He snatched the paper back out of her hand, tearing it in two as he did so. "For once in your life, can't you leave me alone?"
"I was trying to help!" Isabel snapped back, stamping her foot. "But now I don't care if you fail tomorrow!"
It was so rare for his youngest cousin to lose her temper that Esteban recoiled. Even through his surprise, however, he couldn't help seeing the hurt she was hiding underneath. Her lip trembled, her eyes glazed over, and when she whirled around to run back inside, he saw her raise an arm to wipe away tears.
He felt like the lowest scum imaginable as her blue-ribboned head left his line of sight.
He hadn't meant to hurt her, just to give himself some space. Why was communication so difficult, no matter how much he practiced? He certainly had his space now, but somehow it didn't seem appealing. There was no way he would be able to concentrate on geometry. Every triangle looked like a torn-up sheet of wrong answers, and every circle like her tear-filled eyes.
He hadn't meant to hurt her.
Besides, Elena was going to kill him when she found out - and she always found out when someone made her little sister cry.
So it was with selfish as well as unselfish motives that Esteban cleaned up the shreds of paper, gathered up his things, and went looking for Isabel where she was most likely to go when upset: the Royal Library.
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He found her curled up in a tiny ball of blue skirts and white petticoats in one of the big leather armchairs, playing both sides of a chess game and crying. She might be a genius, but she was still young enough to leave wet spots on her dress because she'd forgotten her handkerchief. He wanted to run. He wanted to hug her.
He cleared his throat and sidled slowly into her line of vision, so as not to startle her. "Um … Isa?"
"What?" she sniffed, trying to look regal with red-rimmed eyes and a shiny upper lip.
He hated apologizing, even when he knew he was wrong. It made him feel weak. One thing he liked about Isabel was that she didn't demand apologies, no matter how upset she was. She always let him make things up to her through actions instead.
"I, ah … I have to admit, I can't make heads or tails of this rubbish." He smiled sheepishly and took out the geometry textbook from under his arm. "I could really use a study partner."
"So you don't think I'm a bossy little know-it-all?" she said, her high voice sharp with sarcasm.
"Oh, you are," he couldn't resist saying. "But that can be a good thing. The world needs people like you, or … " What was geometry supposed to be good for, again? He scrambled to remember their tutor's lectures. "Or we'd be living in caves instead of a palace, and our aqueduct wouldn't exist."
"You think so?" Isabel brightened, as if comparing her to the designers of Avalor City's aqueduct was the finest compliment he could have given her.
"Absolutely."
"Okay." She smiled shakily and scooted over to the side of the big armchair, patting the spot next to her. "Now then, young master, let's start from the beginning," she said, pushing up an imaginary pair of reading glasses, sounding so much like their pompous Enchancian tutor that Esteban burst out laughing.
"Thank you, Professor," he said, with mock deference, "But you might want to blow your nose first."
"Oops." She rubbed her face and sniffed ruefully. "I forgot my handkerchief. Again."
"Take mine."
He handed over his monogrammed pocket square and didn't even make a face when she handed it back crumpled and soaked. He gathered her into his lap and opened the book in front of them both, following her tiny finger as she traced the patterns on the page. Somewhat to his chagrin, she really was a good teacher.
Listening was the least he could do to make her smile again.
