Shuonun Møller

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

Stefan froze, rimrod straight, when he was addressed. When he was kissed, he tried to kiss her on both cheeks, as was the custom in his old home.

Laughing, the older woman ushered Stefan to the table with a warm, “oh please don’t worry about that, I understand. If they happen to need baby clothing, I’d be happy to dig around in my attic.”

Letting out a “hm” that could’ve served as a ‘that’s interesting’ or ‘I’m upset you already know this”, Alexander continued eating until he was finally instructed to “leave some for the others!”

"My mother is Ukrainian," Shuonun sniffed. "It's her fault I'm blonde. I don't have an accent because I was tutored in English from the time I was four years old."

It was obvious Alexander didn’t know much about Ukraine or most countries past Western Europe, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Instead, he sagely nodded and claimed that he had visited it once and found it to be, “not so bad.”

Alexander was already out of his seat and rushing to the room he shared with his siblings to pack. When he sped back, clothing shoved haphazardly into a bsckpack, he explained to his mom that he’d be “leaving forever…just kidding, until the morning!!” before looking to Shuonun.

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

Stefan froze, rimrod straight, when he was addressed. When he was kissed, he tried to kiss her on both cheeks, as was the custom in his old home.

Laughing, the older woman ushered Stefan to the table with a warm, “oh please don’t worry about that, I understand. If they happen to need baby clothing, I’d be happy to dig around in my attic.”

Letting out a “hm” that could’ve served as a ‘that’s interesting’ or ‘I’m upset you already know this”, Alexander continued eating until he was finally instructed to “leave some for the others!”

"My mother is Ukrainian," Shuonun sniffed. "It's her fault I'm blonde. I don't have an accent because I was tutored in English from the time I was four years old."

It was obvious Alexander didn’t know much about Ukraine or most countries past Western Europe, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Instead, he sagely nodded and claimed that he had visited it once and found it to be, “not so bad.”

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

Stefan froze, rimrod straight, when he was addressed. When he was kissed, he tried to kiss her on both cheeks, as was the custom in his old home.

Laughing, the older woman ushered Stefan to the table with a warm, “oh please don’t worry about that, I understand. If they happen to need baby clothing, I’d be happy to dig around in my attic.”

Letting out a “hm” that could’ve served as a ‘that’s interesting’ or ‘I’m upset you already know this”, Alexander continued eating until he was finally instructed to “leave some for the others!”

"My mother is Ukrainian," Shuonun sniffed. "It's her fault I'm blonde. I don't have an accent because I was tutored in English from the time I was four years old."

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

Stefan froze, rimrod straight, when he was addressed. When he was kissed, he tried to kiss her on both cheeks, as was the custom in his old home.

Laughing, the older woman ushered Stefan to the table with a warm, “oh please don’t worry about that, I understand. If they happen to need baby clothing, I’d be happy to dig around in my attic.”

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

Stefan froze, rimrod straight, when he was addressed. When he was kissed, he tried to kiss her on both cheeks, as was the custom in his old home.

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

"Good lord," Shuonun murmured. "Is that root beer flavoured ice cream? Could I have root beer flavoured ice cream in root beer? Ludicrous!"

Sticky hands and a full face pressed up against the chilled glass for a full two minutes before Alexander declared that he wanted the most colourful ice cream the shop had.

"Why don't you make him get what you want?" Shuonun asked. "Why do you always have to do what he says?"

Alexander didn’t know what those last few words out of Shuonun’s mouth meant, but he grinned all the less.

"If you don't take what you want from life," Shuonun asked, "How will you ever get it?"

Alexander thought about that for a while, finishing his own ice cream. When he looked up again to see Shuonun and noticed how he was practically digging into his dessert rather than spooning it, an idea surfaced to the front of his mind.

Shuonun began to protest. The deal had been that Alex would help him get clothes to blend in. But the promise of fresh fruit was just too enticing.

Grinning and neglecting to wipe the ice cream on the corners of his smile, Alexander took Shuonun’s clean hand in his sticky one.

Alexander, desperately wanting to sound cool toward someone from the city, nodded. Taking on a solemn tone, he ushered for Shuonun to lean in close before whispering,

Stefan didn't feel safe in many places but libraries had never given him trouble before. Back in France, his bibliotheque had been his safe haven. He had spent hours there immersed in old tomes with hardcovers.

Collin had been looking through the fantasy section, a book halfway in his hand, when Stefan noticed him too. Blinking a few times as if he couldn’t be bothered, he eventually cleared his throat with a simple, “you’re new.”

Stefan was holding "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte in his hands and the way he held it was as if he expected it to protect him from Collin's prodding.

“That’s a good one, Bronte wrote it in rebellion against Victorian critics claiming women should stick to pastoral scenes and high class happenings,” Collin said in return.

"That's my brother's favourite," said Stefan. He shook his head. "I've never read it. I take it you have?"

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Collin replied with mild surprise, as if reevaluating his assessment of Stefan.

"I did not say anything," Stefan said meekly. "I did not insult your library." He hid a little further behind his book.

Colin realised he was being untoward, a quality frowned upon within his social family. Offering an olive branch in the form of, “would you like to read side by side for a little?”, he then motioned to a set of chairs near a window. Although they were threadbare, they looked perfectly worn in by years of curious minds and parents needing a break from their unruly children.

Stefan's shoulders fell slightly. "Yes," he said. "I would like that." Truthfully, Stefan liked to sit in silence. It wasn't that he liked to be alone. He just liked to be quiet. He moved toward the chairs slowly, watching Colin out of the corner of his eyes.

Colin didn’t watch him back, already immersed in his book, shoulder length hair obscuring the sides of his face. That was one of the only things he kept slightly unkempt about his appearance, secretly enjoying how his locks matched his much more unruly brother’s.

“Clothing you don’t mind being potentially ruined,” Colin replied with a sigh, obviously not keen of how his family treated dinnertime.

"What are you doing here?" Stefan asked when he came face to face with Shuonun.

Giggling, Alexander nodded and explained that, “we almost died today. A bullet actually went into me, but I just pulled it out and kept going.”

"He's not lying," Shuonun said glibly. He folded his hands behind him. "I was there. I saw it."

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

"Good lord," Shuonun murmured. "Is that root beer flavoured ice cream? Could I have root beer flavoured ice cream in root beer? Ludicrous!"

Sticky hands and a full face pressed up against the chilled glass for a full two minutes before Alexander declared that he wanted the most colourful ice cream the shop had.

"Why don't you make him get what you want?" Shuonun asked. "Why do you always have to do what he says?"

Alexander didn’t know what those last few words out of Shuonun’s mouth meant, but he grinned all the less.

"If you don't take what you want from life," Shuonun asked, "How will you ever get it?"

Alexander thought about that for a while, finishing his own ice cream. When he looked up again to see Shuonun and noticed how he was practically digging into his dessert rather than spooning it, an idea surfaced to the front of his mind.

Shuonun began to protest. The deal had been that Alex would help him get clothes to blend in. But the promise of fresh fruit was just too enticing.

Grinning and neglecting to wipe the ice cream on the corners of his smile, Alexander took Shuonun’s clean hand in his sticky one.

Alexander, desperately wanting to sound cool toward someone from the city, nodded. Taking on a solemn tone, he ushered for Shuonun to lean in close before whispering,

Stefan didn't feel safe in many places but libraries had never given him trouble before. Back in France, his bibliotheque had been his safe haven. He had spent hours there immersed in old tomes with hardcovers.

Collin had been looking through the fantasy section, a book halfway in his hand, when Stefan noticed him too. Blinking a few times as if he couldn’t be bothered, he eventually cleared his throat with a simple, “you’re new.”

Stefan was holding "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte in his hands and the way he held it was as if he expected it to protect him from Collin's prodding.

“That’s a good one, Bronte wrote it in rebellion against Victorian critics claiming women should stick to pastoral scenes and high class happenings,” Collin said in return.

"That's my brother's favourite," said Stefan. He shook his head. "I've never read it. I take it you have?"

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Collin replied with mild surprise, as if reevaluating his assessment of Stefan.

"I did not say anything," Stefan said meekly. "I did not insult your library." He hid a little further behind his book.

Colin realised he was being untoward, a quality frowned upon within his social family. Offering an olive branch in the form of, “would you like to read side by side for a little?”, he then motioned to a set of chairs near a window. Although they were threadbare, they looked perfectly worn in by years of curious minds and parents needing a break from their unruly children.

Stefan's shoulders fell slightly. "Yes," he said. "I would like that." Truthfully, Stefan liked to sit in silence. It wasn't that he liked to be alone. He just liked to be quiet. He moved toward the chairs slowly, watching Colin out of the corner of his eyes.

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

"Good lord," Shuonun murmured. "Is that root beer flavoured ice cream? Could I have root beer flavoured ice cream in root beer? Ludicrous!"

Sticky hands and a full face pressed up against the chilled glass for a full two minutes before Alexander declared that he wanted the most colourful ice cream the shop had.

"Why don't you make him get what you want?" Shuonun asked. "Why do you always have to do what he says?"

Alexander didn’t know what those last few words out of Shuonun’s mouth meant, but he grinned all the less.

"If you don't take what you want from life," Shuonun asked, "How will you ever get it?"

Alexander thought about that for a while, finishing his own ice cream. When he looked up again to see Shuonun and noticed how he was practically digging into his dessert rather than spooning it, an idea surfaced to the front of his mind.

Shuonun began to protest. The deal had been that Alex would help him get clothes to blend in. But the promise of fresh fruit was just too enticing.

Grinning and neglecting to wipe the ice cream on the corners of his smile, Alexander took Shuonun’s clean hand in his sticky one.

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

"Good lord," Shuonun murmured. "Is that root beer flavoured ice cream? Could I have root beer flavoured ice cream in root beer? Ludicrous!"

Sticky hands and a full face pressed up against the chilled glass for a full two minutes before Alexander declared that he wanted the most colourful ice cream the shop had.

"Why don't you make him get what you want?" Shuonun asked. "Why do you always have to do what he says?"

Alexander didn’t know what those last few words out of Shuonun’s mouth meant, but he grinned all the less.

"If you don't take what you want from life," Shuonun asked, "How will you ever get it?"

Alexander thought about that for a while, finishing his own ice cream. When he looked up again to see Shuonun and noticed how he was practically digging into his dessert rather than spooning it, an idea surfaced to the front of his mind.

Shuonun began to protest. The deal had been that Alex would help him get clothes to blend in. But the promise of fresh fruit was just too enticing.

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

"Good lord," Shuonun murmured. "Is that root beer flavoured ice cream? Could I have root beer flavoured ice cream in root beer? Ludicrous!"

Sticky hands and a full face pressed up against the chilled glass for a full two minutes before Alexander declared that he wanted the most colourful ice cream the shop had.

"Why don't you make him get what you want?" Shuonun asked. "Why do you always have to do what he says?"

Alexander didn’t know what those last few words out of Shuonun’s mouth meant, but he grinned all the less.

"If you don't take what you want from life," Shuonun asked, "How will you ever get it?"

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

"Good lord," Shuonun murmured. "Is that root beer flavoured ice cream? Could I have root beer flavoured ice cream in root beer? Ludicrous!"

Sticky hands and a full face pressed up against the chilled glass for a full two minutes before Alexander declared that he wanted the most colourful ice cream the shop had.

"Why don't you make him get what you want?" Shuonun asked. "Why do you always have to do what he says?"

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

"Good lord," Shuonun murmured. "Is that root beer flavoured ice cream? Could I have root beer flavoured ice cream in root beer? Ludicrous!"

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

Shuonun turned his head away. "My mother is a mathematics tutor," he said. "And my father designs automobiles. That's why we moved here. He could get transfered to work at the factory in Lawrence."

Alexander’s eyes brightened at the prospect of there being a mathematics tutor nearby, mind shutting out the rest of Shuonun’s response. Standing up, he resumed fiddling with things around the room before sighing. “My parents are boring. My mom stays at home, managing my siblings and I, and my dad does something. I don’t know what, probably something in an office.”

Shuonun raised an eyebrow. "Ah," he said. "I see. How riveting."

“Oh, you don’t have to apologise, I figured city living wouldn’t prepare you for this” Alexander started before starting to snoop in the taller boy’s closet. Not recognising any of the brands or fashions, he crinkled his nose before realising he too was being impolite.

"...Deal," said Shuonun. "You show me the way into town and help me to blend in. I'll even buy you something in return."

Alexander was already pulling Shuonun with him down the stairs and out of the house. Rushing out a, “I’m taking your son to town” to the boy’s parents, he didn’t slow.

"...What is a thrift?" Shuonun asked, cocking an eyebrow as he kicked a pebble down the road while they walked. A look of realization dawned over him quickly and he muttered under his breath in French. "I think I know. Un friperie. Secondhand clothes. Right?"

Summer, 1987. A dry breeze wafted through dusty Stull, Kansas. That breeze brought little relief to the farmers in the fields wiping the sweat from their brows. It brought little change to the direction of the weather vanes on the barn rooftops. It brought little rustling to the cornstalks in the fields or the leaves on the trees. That breeze blew the Møller family right into town. Colden, Lilla, and their three children had landed in the country less than three hours prior. They had bought a house in Kansas through a friend of a friend. They had needed to leave their home in Paris for... reasons. Reasons the oldest son, Stefan wouldn't reveal except under waterboarding, reasons the younger son, Shuonun, thought were stupid and sort of funny, and reasons the youngest daughter, a bouncing baby girl named Sarpedon, were oblivious to. Stull was to be their new home, much to the chagrin of Shuonun. He was not excited for country life like his parents were. He was not relieved to be in America like his brother was. He was not blissfully ignorant like his six-month-old sister was.

Shuonun turned his head away. "My mother is a mathematics tutor," he said. "And my father designs automobiles. That's why we moved here. He could get transfered to work at the factory in Lawrence."

Alexander’s eyes brightened at the prospect of there being a mathematics tutor nearby, mind shutting out the rest of Shuonun’s response. Standing up, he resumed fiddling with things around the room before sighing. “My parents are boring. My mom stays at home, managing my siblings and I, and my dad does something. I don’t know what, probably something in an office.”

Shuonun raised an eyebrow. "Ah," he said. "I see. How riveting."

“Oh, you don’t have to apologise, I figured city living wouldn’t prepare you for this” Alexander started before starting to snoop in the taller boy’s closet. Not recognising any of the brands or fashions, he crinkled his nose before realising he too was being impolite.

"...Deal," said Shuonun. "You show me the way into town and help me to blend in. I'll even buy you something in return."