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chapter nine! the wee russian
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"A reading from the Holy Gospel," the priest spoke loudly from the front of the church, in which the O'Malley, Quinn and McCool family stood. Mary and Eileen had for once allowed all four of the teenagers to stand together, in hopes they would be able to find their exchange student faster.
"Which one's ours?" Orla asked, looking between her three cousins, Erin and the O'Malley twins, Aoife and Orin.
"You can't own a person, Orla," Orin sighed, shaking his head at his naive cousin.
"She didn't send a photo. Her family probably don't even own a camera," Erin spoke up, her own eyes scanning the seated exchange students at the front, "She'll find Derry a bit overwhelming at first, just because of how advanced everything is here. All the cracker stuff we have."
"They have some pretty cracker stuff where she comes from, too, Erin," Orla disagreed, still peaking at the new people on the alter.
"Oh, really? Like what? Disease? Poverty?" Erin dramatically wondered, snapping to face Orla who didn't seem the slightest bit fazed.
"No. You can get this wee woman made of wood, right? You pull her apart and inside her, there's an even wee-er wooden woman," Orla began to explain, "and you pull the wee-er wooden apart-"
"Do you mean Russian dolls?" Aoife asked, her attention drifting from the Priest to her tall cousin, "I think you can get them in Derry too, Orla."
After the collection basket was passed around the church, the Priest began once again, "And today we welcome some very special guests, the weans from Chernobyl, who've come over to give their wee lungs a bit of a clear out, because, ah, sure, there's all sorts wafting around in their neck of the woods."
"Lovely job so far, Seamus, but you know, keep it moving. Raw Hide's on in fifteen minutes," Sister Michael told the old Priest before she looked between the congregation and the new arrivals, "Now, one might question the wisdom of sending you here, of all places. Out of the frying pan into the, well, maybe not the fire, but certainly a different type of frying pan. Or some sort of wok at the very least. But please don't worry yourselves too much about the whole civil war, sectarian conflict carry on. There's just one thing you need to know. We're the goodies. Welcome to Derry."
• • • • • • •
"It's class, isn't it?" Erin asked the Ukrainian they had been assigned, as the jumbled family walked back to the Quinn household for their weekly breakfast. Caoimhe and Imogen ran ahead, holding tightly onto each other's hands as the teenagers and Conor, who had gotten free from the group of parents. Erin had pulled Katya in front so she could have her all to herself.
