I got up, yawning. My body hurt all over, it was painful, but it was also numb. Gently, I reached up and touched my stinging face. I winced, how did one hit hurt so bad? I got up and saw my mum, up and wobbling across the sleeping room floor. “Mum!” I cried, just loud enough to get her attention. I ran towards her, hugging her tightly. She turned around, drowsy from sleep, “Oh, hi bubba.” she said, hugging me back, “You okay baby?” I was about to answer her question when I realized it wasn’t for me. She never called me ‘baby’, just ‘bubba’. I had always prided myself in her having different nicknames for all of us, bubba for me, chickadeedeedee for Azaire (it’s a long story), pumpkin for Felipe. And of course, baby for Lyna. There were interesting and funny stories behind each of the names, like how Azaire’s was from his younger years, when he had thought that the chickadee was called a chickadeedeedee, and belived it for quite a while. Mine, bubba, was from when I had tried to say ‘bubble’ and did it wrong. Felipe ate a whole pumpkin pie when he was five. Lyna was the firstborn, therefore got rights to the least interesting and not-at-all-funny nickname of baby. I turned around and saw her, Lyna, with sleeplessness dark purple under her bright blue eyes, dulling them. Her hair was mussed up and naughty. Lyna nodded, clearly exhausted, “Yeah, I guess I’m fine.” she seemed to register that mum was up and about, but her reaction was much different than mine, “Wait, Mum?” Lyna asked, confused, “Why are you up? Shouldn’t you be getting your rest?” Mum shrugged, “I’ve been resting for two days, I’m fine babe.” I groaned. Another firstborn nickname. This wasn’t going to turn out well, I’d better put a stop to it. “Hey,” I interrupted their conversation, “I’m going to, you know, go make breakfast.” Lyna nodded, not taking her eyes off Mum, “That’s a good idea, go ahead.” I left the room, fully aware of the silent-but-deadly staring contest between Lyna and Mum, seeing who would win. It was going to be Mum. My guess was confirmed when Mum walked into the room, smiling victoriously, with a grumpy Lyna trailing behind her. I was attempting to make eggs, but I was failing pretty badly. Lyna had always been a better cook than me. Lyna came up behind me and tapped my shoulder, “I’ll take it from here Anya.” she said softly into my ear. I nodded, stepping back. I was relieved to be rescued from the egg-duty. Mum smiled at me from her perch at the small table, “How are you, Anya?” “Oh, I’m great!” I said, lying through my teeth. Mum raised her eyebrows at me, “Are you? That certainly explains why you have a bruise on your cheek.” I shrugged, “That shouldn’t ruin your day.” “But it could ruin yours.” “Not if I don’t let it.” I walked towards the door, my satchel in hand, “I’m going to go to school, bye. Tell the boys I said good morning!” I tried to channel some cheerfulness into my voice, then ducked out of the door before either of them could stop me. I wasn’t going to school, why should I? They had beaten me. They could wait for later. I ran through the clearing to get to the path, in case Mum and Lyna were watching. I walked down it for a while, turning sharply before I got into Shibuya territory. I settled down there, beside the path, hidden in the bushes. I opened my satchel and took out a book. It wasn’t one of the Shibuya school books, it was a storybook. I leaned against a tree and began to read, losing myself in the adventure of two children, venturing out to a land unknown to them while a war raged in their home country. Looking for something they couldn’t find, a dead tribe, and returning to spill blood on the stones...
