5

A Storybook Life?

"Are you serious? Or is this from another dead-parent story like The Miserable Misfortunes of the Breima Brood?"

Lottica wanted to punch something when Nick reported that he’d overheard their grandparents planning to take them to Lebreima. "Forget The Weirdest Witch. I've got my story right here." She wrapped her long hair around her chin and sat glumly, her eyes still puffy and red from crying.

"Well, you do look rather pitiful. Kind of Heidi pathetic.” Nick paused. “Is Heidi a dead-parent story, too?" he asked, hoping his attempt to match her dark humor would help nudge Lottica into a more helpful state of mind.

The danger, though, was that she might think he was mocking her and draw further into herself. Or go totally ballistic. Nick knew his sister was not generally the kind of person who would back down in a confrontation.

But, Lottica sat silently staring, as if transfixed by some inner vision of doom. Nick felt a bit helpless. Give him a story problem in math and—bingo!—he'd solve it. A chemistry conundrum? No problem. A tight spot in an online battle? A piece of cake.

This, though? Helping another person work through a crisis. Exploring their feelings. That was rocket science of a whole different nature. And he knew he sucked at it. The interpersonal stuff. Yet, he also knew he had to try to get better at it. Like right now.

"Earlier, Lottica, when you started crying," he began to explain, "I wanted Grandmother and Grandfather to know how important it was for us to keep in touch with our old friends. And visit the old neighborhood. That we needed to see…"

He took a breath and checked for Lottica’s reaction. She still sat motionless, so he continued, his heart beating faster. "To be honest, I need to see what’s left. I want to walk around the yard. To go inside. Look around. I-I-I just want…" Nick trailed off again, looking away fom his sister.

"To go home," Lottica said softly, as she stood up. "That's what we want, isn't it? To forget the brave face. To wish we weren’t orphans. That we could be back with Mom and Dad. Just growing up, being regular kids that nobody in their right mind would ever think to write an adventure story about."

Nick’s eyes locked on his sister's. "Exactly. I know I don't belong in any storybook. But the way you're talking, Lottica, you sure do. You‘re pretty amazing.” He sighed, “Because you’re right. I just want to be back where we were before the fire. Before…before…it all happened."

Lottica nodded. “I want to feel like a kid again. As much as I wanna grow up and act older, I don’t want to have to. Especially being whisked off to some forsaken place half way around the world. I mean, I don't even know where Lebreima is exactly. Isn't that sad? I've never been that curious. I can tell you how many light-years away the star Betelgeuse is, but I can't locate the country where Dad was born on a map."

"Me either," admitted Nick. "But we'll need to start finding out some things about Lebreima. And we'll need to try to get some advice on what to do. That's another reason to visit the house. We can talk to some of the neighbors and let them know what Grandfather and Grandmother are planning. They may be able to help us.” He started toward the door. “I'm going to go back downstairs and try to persuade them to take us over to visit our old neighbors next Saturday."

As he opened the door, Lottica stood up. "Don't you think we'll look more pitiful and convincing together? Especially with my pathetically puffy Heidi eyes."

“That’s the spirit. We’ve got to be clever about this. Use every resource, every advantage we have.” He went to open their door and then glanced back at her. “So, just for future reference, how far away is Betelgeuse?”

“Six-hundred-forty-two-and-a-half light years. Give or take a parsec,” Lottica answered without missing a beat.

“Like I said, Lottica. You belong in a storybook, as much as your Weirdest Witch does. Let’s go sell this to the grandparents.”