Three

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My brother has no imagination. But what he lacks in creativity, he makes up by being annoying. When I step into the living room, I'm greeted by Rodrigo's contrite smile and an I'm so sorry. Before I can ask what's happening, my brother's voice booms inside my mind like a loud speaker in a club.

BA~BY SHARK DOO DOO DOODOODOODOO, BABY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOODOODOO, BABY SHARK DOO DOO DOODOODOODOO, BABY SHARK!

"Why?" I wail, throwing my bag to the ground as I search for that jerk.

"I'm so, so sorry," Rodrigo says out loud. "He asked me what song I hated but couldn't get out of my mind for hours and I answered without thinking."

"Árpi, you bastard, I'm going to strangle you," I shout, tracking his obnoxious thoughts to the kitchen.

Language, Rodrigo thinks, which is quickly followed by another Sorry. Árpád turns to me with a shit-eating grin that's meant to be innocent.

"Why so angry, Dóri?" he asks, barely containing his amusement.

My eyes narrow as he moves on to the Daddy Shark part. Without breaking eye contact, I lean out through the kitchen door to address my brother-in-law.

"Rodri, have I ever told you about that time Árpi–"

A broken eggshell comes sailing at my head that I catch with one hand. For a second, we're both impressed, then: "Run your mouth and you'll end up homeless."

Even without the ability to read minds, I'd know he's not being serious. Only yesterday, he threatened to kick me out for eating the last slice of pizza.

"What're you making?" I ask as I begin to hum doo doo doo doodoodoo under my breath. Damn him.

"French toast," he answers.

"For dinner?"

He looks down his nose at me, which isn't much of a feat since the top of my head barely reaches up to his shoulder. "Feel free to take over if you don't like it."

"Don't be mean, she made you ratatouille this weekend," Rodrigo says, poking him in the ribs on his way to the fridge.

We both splutter in indignation. "I made it," I say just as Árpi butts in with "She made it," before finishing in unison, "for you."

"Sure, you did," Rodrigo agrees amicably. He knows full well that ratatouille is my brother's favorite dish but because he's a decent human being, he changes the subject instead of insisting. "How was your day, Dóri?"

"Horrible," I say, slumping into the chair behind me. "We got a transfer today and he's the worst."

I feel my brother roll his eyes at me while Rodrigo leans against the fridge, willing me to elaborate.

"He's a daydreamer and he never stops. And to make it worse, Maes made him sit with me."

Árpi snorts. "That guy's still alive?"

Mr. Maes had been Árpád and Rodrigo's homeroom teacher back when they'd been in high school, over a decade ago.

"Some legal guardian you are," I mutter, loud enough for him to hear. "Don't even know who teaches me."

Light brown eyes, identical in shape and size to mine, cut over to me. "You know, I hear the leaves in the park are beautiful this time of the year. Maybe you should–"

"Mi amor," Rodrigo interrupts before turning to me again. "Is there any way for you to sit somewhere else? I can go talk to your teacher if you like."

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