Chapter Text
“We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going--”
“Argh, please, Duusu, will you quiet down? It’s like you want everyone to know you exist…” I griped as I continued pushing boxes from my room down into the hall. My father was lugging them out to the moving van while my mother organized the back so that everything would fit.
The cobalt blue peacock-like Kwami ceased its bouncing on my bare mattress and curled in on itself apologetically, “Sorry…I’m just excited! Aren’t you excited?! Because I’m excited!”
“Yeah,” I agreed monotonously. “Totally excited.”
Unfortunately that was all the Kwami needed to get going again. It spun around with a squeal before zooming about my room, its long antennae, tipped with feather plumes rippling behind it.
I tried not to smile but it—she, I’d ended up deciding given its personality and voice—was too darn cute. I sighed, flipped my blackish-(color) hair away from my face, and slumped against the box I’d just moved, “If I’d known you’d miss Paris so much, I would have fought harder for us to stay.”
Duusu gasped dramatically as she came to a screeching halt. I might have assumed something was wrong with it if she didn’t do these things so very often. As it was I simply rested my chin in my palms and watched her zip over to me, “Oh no, [Name]. Thank you but your art is more important than me wanting to stay in one place. You simply had to go to Rempli Vol Art School!”
“Yes, well, fat lot of good it did, huh? Since we’re going right back to Dupont. I knew it was a lie,” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice but I’m sure I failed. I mean, seriously, my one chance to go to a real art school—one that would set me up for life—and it turns out to be a huge scam. Seriously disappointing!
Duusu trilled sadly and pressed herself up against my cheek, “Oh, I’m sorry, [Name]. But at least you tried, right?”
The poor thing’s voice trembled and I sighed, “It’s fine, Duusu. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll just try again.” Huge, impossibly sad, yellow eyes stared back at me. They pulled at my heartstrings in the most irritating way. The blue Kwami had a way of making me feel guilty even if I hadn’t really done anything. “C’mon. I thought you were excited to go back to Paris. You can’t go back on me now.”
She tried to stay sympathetic, she really did, but I could see the tension budding inside of her even before she unleashed it. Two seconds later, her top blew and she was back to bouncing around the room so fast the only way I could keep track of her was by following the navy blue contrail she left behind, “We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going back! We’re going back!”
“Great…and now we’re back to that,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes before going back in my room to push out another box. It would be the last one. After that, all I had to do was wait for everything to get loaded and we’d be on the road.
“Do you think it’ll be any different?”
I scoffed, “Please. Paris has been around for centuries. I doubt it’s changed in a couple months.”
“Oooh, you’d be surprised how fast things can change! It seemed like only yesterday that the Great Roman empire--”
I winced, “Yeah, that’s right. I keep forgetting you’re like a bajillion years old.”
Duusu sniffed, affronted, “Well at least I don’t look it!”
I wrinkled my nose, “How would someone that old even look? I’m pretty sure their body would be like…all wrinkled and crusty and just ew…” I trailed off and flicked my eyes to my companion.
The little Kwami gasped.
It held that pose for a good moment, probably thinking I would take back my words. When I didn’t its yellow eyes narrowed and she crossed her tiny forelimbs, “I’m not speaking to you anymore.”
“Ugh, Duusu, don’t be so dramati--”
“Nope! Not until we get to Paris! It’s all your fault!” She said even as she yanked open my backpack and stuffed herself in with the extra tissues and menstrual pads I always kept around.
I stared at the place where she’d locked herself away in for a while, debating on whether or not I should apologize. In the end I decided against it. It was hard enough keeping her a secret on the daily. If she was going to purposefully shun herself, then there was no way I was going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I lugged the backpack, much heavier since it was carrying way more than just school supplies, onto my back with a grin, “Okay just remember you’re the one who said it, not me.”
I found my parents bickering outside much like I expected I would. And also, as predicted, they stopped their hushed argument and plastered on bright smiles when they noticed me coming. I resisted the urge to sigh. They hated when I did that and besides it really was a bad habit. Unsurprisingly, it developed around the same time I found a ridiculously pretty hairpin…
“Hey, baby! All ready to go?” My mom said as she jumped down from the back of the moving van.
“Yep,” I replied and left them to climb into the cabin. Being the smallest, I already knew I would be forced into the middle even if my parents did want to sit next to each other. My sister was already there and stubbornly refused to move from the window seat when I tried to get in.
I called her a really bad name which she pretended not to hear because of her earbuds as I left to climb in from the driver’s side.
“Aww, no one wants to ride with Daddy?” My mother cooed when she came and saw her two daughters already settled in. I might have thought she felt bad for Dad if she didn’t look and sound so pleased with the situation.
Honestly I’d forgotten that someone had to drive the family car back into the capital. I thought about going but my sister quickly volunteered.
“I’ll go,” she announced as she scrambled down from the truck. I flipped her the bird when she looked up to shut the door, using my body as a shield so Mom wouldn’t see. She slammed the door with excessive force in response.
Mother frowned, “I wonder what’s wrong with her?”
“She hates it when you talk to us in your baby voice,” I supplied easily. It wasn’t exactly a lie either since she really did hate it. Mother pursed her lips as if trying to remember if she’d actually done so and I smiled. “You did.”
She blushed and cleared her throat noisily, “Well. Anyway. Let’s get going shall we?”
“Don’t you want to take any last photos or say a few inspirational words before we leave our house for the last time?” It was something she would normally do. She did it with a lot of tears when we left Paris to come here.
To my utter surprise she snorted and might’ve sneered if I was her best friend instead of her daughter, “Oh, honey, I hated this place.”
My chest lurched with the force of holding back my astonished laughter, “W-Well, wait. Don’t you want to wait for Dad t--”
“He can catch up,” she interjected. With equally disturbing enthusiasm, she started the car and stepped on the gas. I gasped and scrambled to put on my seatbelt. All of a sudden I wished I’d chosen to ride with my father instead.
I heard a giggle to my right and whipped my head around to regard my mother incredulously. She was staring out the rearview mirror. When I looked in the side mirror, I saw my dad practically tripping over himself to do a final check of the house and garage before diving into the car to follow behind.
Only belatedly, after a few miles down the highway, did I realize that meant he most likely left my bed behind.
Fantastic.