After spending three perfect days with her friend Georgina, Emily settled back into ordinary life. She was quieter than normal that month, which made Sophia worry, and may have been why Elijah chose to take his holiday in the dry season for once. Emily started to take long, solitary walks in the fields each night with her earbuds in. Elijah decided to go with her a few times, and the dry season turned into a couple of months of shooting, fighting and stalking practice by night, coupled with crazy amounts of study by day.
Not convinced Emily wasn't quietly suffering from her trauma, Sophia invited a psychologist friend to talk with Emily over supper and give her opinion.
Subtle as Sophia's friend tried to be, Emily saw straight through it. In the kitchen before they took the food out for supper, she asked her mum, "Mom, why didn't you tell me your friend was a head doctor?"
"How? Never mind. Talk to her, please? For me? If she says you're ok, I can stop worrying. Ok?"
Emily narrowed her eyes. "No, it's not ok. It's awkward, probably embarrassing and definitely uncool. But – I think she speaks Spanish. So, if you let us do it in Spanish, I'll let her do her thing. If, and only if, she swears to let me decide exactly how much she shares with you. Final offer."
"Sly, aren't you? Except she doesn't speak…"
"No?" Emily interrupted as she picked up a pan to help serve up. "Then how come she favours Hispanic pronunciations and structures so much?"
"Just where she grew up, Em. She might know a bit, but…"
"Trust me, she speaks Spanish. You still haven't agreed to my deal."
Sophia told her off. "Em, no. This is for you. I want to know if you need help, that's all."
"I don't. So can she leave me alone?"
"Emily Evelyn, which of us is a doctor?"
Emily swiped some of the sauce from the rim of the pan and tasted it before she answered with a cheeky grin. "You. Mm, you're a better cook, too. That still doesn't change my offer."
"You don't get to play hardball with me, Miss Court. I am your mom, and I think you might be unwell, so you will talk to this doctor." Emily opened her mouth to retort, but Sophia popped a meatball in it and told her, "No more back chat. Or that's the only one you'll get."
"Mm-nom," Emily complained as Sophia picked up a couple of plates to take them out. "Nice. But…" She swallowed half the hastily chewed mouthful so she could say, "I never said I wouldn't talk, just that I'd do it confidentially in Spanish. Can I still have my meatballs? Pretty please with sauce on top?"
Sophia used her back to open the kitchen door and said, "We'll see. If you don't talk with food in your mouth at the table." Then she left, and Emily reached for the bowl of spare meatballs. Before she touched them though, Sophia called, "And if you don't pinch any more, you greedy little fox."
Emily grinned and carried out the other two plates.
In the end, Emily got her way, although by the end of the evening she wished she had just forgone her favourite meal and point blank refused. Even in Spanish so her parents didn't know what was being said, having to be this open and honest about herself with a stranger made her squirm. She joked, in Spanish of course, that she might need another check-up after such a traumatic evening.
The psychologist passed on her diagnosis to Sophia in the hospital cafeteria on the following day. "She's fine, Sophia. More than fine. She processed it by growing up a lot, judging by what she told me. She's obsessed with using every moment she has, in a good way. For example, at first she was sarcastic and tried to escape me like every kid her age, but then after the meal I got the distinct impression she saw our talk as therapy for you. You told her she could ask to keep every detail secret except my diagnosis, but she actually asked me to say as much as you needed to hear to get a proper night's sleep. Which, by the way, she said you haven't had since they got back."
Sophia frowned. "Did she say how she knew that though? If she was awake to know I was…"
"Nothing like that. She just noticed a pan in the sink every morning that's been used to heat milk after she goes to bed."
"Ah."
"She's an amazing girl, your Emily. You said she was into foreign languages, but you never told me she spoke such excellent Spanish."
"If my girl's into something, she's all out," Sophia declared with a smile. "When she was little she'd pester the asari at the spaceport to teach her new words. Now she's doing xenolinguistics she's insufferable. She downloads more alien vids, books and audio books than we can afford."
"You should be careful about that. How much alien propaganda has she already read? The First Contact War should have taught us to be careful, but they're sucking all the young people like Emily in with their bright lights and fancy tech. Just watch, it won't last. If you don't keep an eye on her she'll be on a million watch lists when it comes to war, and that's before all those books make her a sympathiser."
Sophia frowned. She wanted Emily to be an explorer or a pioneer, because it would suit her perfectly, but she was worried for all the reasons her friend said, and because bigots like her friend would make Emily's life hell. She shrugged and said, "Right now, she's my thirteen-year-old baby girl. She's healthy, and that's enough for me."
Emily turned fourteen that April, and sat the exams for her first year of Harvard Xenolinguistics in June. She wouldn't tell her parents what mark she achieved, except that she passed. Once again, Sophia was concerned that "the adventure", as Emily now called it, had set her back. So Sophia wrote to Emily's professor, and got quite a rapid reply.
"Dear Mr and Mrs Court," it said. "I received your letter of concern regarding Emily's grades. If she has decided not to tell you I won't spoil her secret here, but they should be on the education grants tracker if you need them. However, rest assured she is humble, not ashamed. She has an intuitive grasp of the fundamentals of language, and a true passion for communication itself which make her a joy to correspond with. She is a privilege to teach.
In light of this, I would raise one concern. Emily has the potential to become a truly great linguist, perhaps a leader in the field one day, but she needs to commit. Apparently, she went on a two-month hunting holiday this year, and spends hours every day training in athletics, martial arts, and even firearms. While she managed to keep pace with her studies in that time, I cannot help but wonder what she could accomplish if she dedicated more of her time to her studies.
Are you aware that she is eligible for better scholarships? There are foundations that fund colony students to study here on Earth. I can think of two who would compete to have her name on their books. I understand that you, Mrs. Court, are a neurosurgeon of some repute. No doubt you could find ready employment here if you wished to accompany your daughter. The value of attending lectures in person cannot be understated, especially in language studies. She would have access to much wider support and learning material here, to say nothing of exposure to actual foreign languages. I did broach this subject with her, but her last email ignored it. Please consider it carefully. Emily performs well, but she may miss a great opportunity, and I would hate to see such passion and talent as hers go to waste for her love of fighting sports."