Chapter 30 Lurielle #3
Lurielle laughed, nodding in agreement. Her daughter was a force to be reckoned with.
And no one gets to dim her, serene selkie toddlers be damned.
She turned an ear back to the mothers a few feet away.
They were discussing language immersion programs, early math literacy, and whether Trollish or coding was the more strategic second language focus.
“We loved the philosophy,” a kitsune was saying about the Orcish language immersion camp her child would be attending that summer. “It just aligned with our values.”
Values was a code word, she had discovered.
Values in this context often referred to nothing more than how exclusive the program was, how sought-after it had become in parenting circles, and how much social currency inclusion in it carried in places like this.
An Orcish language program would be good, though. You should look into that.
“How immersive do you suppose it will be if the parents aren’t speaking the language in the home?” Tate wondered under his breath, a low voice for her ears only, his eyes never moving from where the girls were playing. Yeah, that’s a good point. You should start your lessons again.
Kael was building with several other children, laying the foundation of the blocks like a structural engineer — carefully, consideringly, his movements precise.
When the gnoll jumped up and bumped the table, he protected the structure.
Lurielle could almost see his tiny brain recalibrating.
She didn’t know whether the glow of pride she felt was appropriate.
He’s good at this. Not ‘he makes you look good.’ You know how to be better than that. You’re not your mom.
“The program we chose is such a good fit for Wylie. We interviewed at a few, but I know this is the right one.”
“That’s code for ‘this is the one that accepted us.’ As if preschoolers need interpretive water dancing.”
Lurielle turned away, disguising her choked laughter with a cough.
Tate was a bitch. It was the addition the playgroup sorely needed.
It was what she needed, at the very least. Confirmation that she wasn’t the only one occasionally thinking unkind thoughts about the conversations undertaken by the other parents, the constant churn of signing their children up for whatever they could, preparing them for far-off futures, without enough consideration into whether there was any enjoyment involved.
When snack was served, they watched the children line up.
Kael waited patiently in line while Kora reached out for a cup of the cheddar frog crackers.
Lurielle tensed. Kora’s eyes raised to hers as if she could feel the telepathic command.
“Wait,” Lurielle mouthed. She watched her little kaiju’s hand still, her jaw tighten .
. . before her arm dropped to wait for her turn.
Lurielle gave her a thumbs-up. Another tally on the board.
She grinned down at the little elf when the children found their way to them, the girls still holding hands.
She was dressed exactly the way Lurielle would have assumed Silva’s daughter would be dressed, in an A-line pinafore dress and a matching cardigan that looked as if it cost as much as her monthly car note.
“Is that from the shop in town?” Yanna asked, holding her toddler on her hip as the little selkie glared down at Kora.
Oh, he wants an enemy? Fucking bring it. Lurielle winced, berating her internal voice. NO. That’s not what we’re going to teach them. They don’t need to be as competitive as you.
“You know,” Yanna continued, smiling serenely up at Tate, the fathers in this group have their own little hang session with a few of us and the kids; you might want to exchange numbers.”
“The sweater was made for her.” Tate’s smile was cool, his voice clipped, ignoring the selkie’s other words entirely, his eyes already down on the little elf, who’d taken his hand back and was gripping it tightly. “Aelin, do you want to ask your new friend to come over and play soon?”
Yanna opened her mouth to answer, blinking in shock when Lurielle beat her to the punch.
“Doesn’t that sound fun, Kora? And Aelin’s mommy is one of my good friends, so we can make a day of it.”
The selkie stepped back, eyes tight, unused to not being centered in this space, quickly glancing around for one of her inner circle.
This is what it felt like to be friends with one of the cool kids, Lurielle realized, almost snorting at how ridiculous she knew she sounded. She had never been a part of that circle, had never even been cool-kid adjacent in the club. Does that mean you’re friends with Tate? Oh no.
The entire ride home was spent with Kael singing a song he’d learned at school, Kora loudly adding her own babble, not to be outdone.
Lurielle winced, glancing up in the rear-view mirror with a smile.
She understood the pressure of perfection, maybe better than anyone.
But they were this young for such a short amount of time.
“When we get home, I think it’s time for a story.
And you can play for a bit while I make lunch. ”
“Blocks go boom!” Kora exclaimed, making her brother laugh.
“We can make the blocks super high,” Kael assured her.
“Go boom!”
Lurielle laughed along. She now had Tate’s number in her phone and had tentative plans for a playdate for the following week. The spiky barkeep, whose breakfast sandwich had put her marriage in jeopardy. Silva was back, and so was he. And she was going to need to explain that to Khash. Boom indeed.