We lock eyes for a second, or rather I lock onto the one eye of his that I can see because the other is obscured by the hippo's big yellow ear.

'So, er...' He clears his throat and shakes his head back to sweep his soft black fringe off his forehead. His cheeks are getting so red I can practically see the blood pooling underneath. It doesn't take a genius to know what he's thinking about. 'Did you –'

'I confess!' I cut over him. As someone who hates speaking in awkward situations myself, I feel obliged to show solidarity to my fellow victims. 'I overheard you. On the phone. But' – I add quickly as he ducks his head in mortification – 'I'm trying to unhear it. Really trying, I promise.'

He lifts his head back up to search my face, tilting it slightly to work around the hippo statue. It's starting to become really inconvenient. 'Okay. I trust you.'

I blink. This catches me off guard. I was expecting him to yell, run away, never speak to me again, or all three. 'Sure. Great. Consider it forgotten.'

'Thank you.'

We stand in fidgety silence for a while, before I check myself and wonder what the hell I'm doing not talking. I'm Remy Griffin. Man, the bully on PhotoGloble is messing with my head.

'So,' I say, taking a step into the garden bed to make my way to his side of the hippo. It's harder than I thought it would be weaving around the seedlings, and I doubt Mrs Cirillo would appreciate feeding stomped-on lettuce to her kids. 'I'm Remy. You can probably tell I'm from here, and...okay, it's rude, but I'm just going to ask. Are you here to steal something?'

He lets out a soft laugh. The audacity, I haven't even said the punchline yet.

'Because if so,' I continue anyway, 'the auditorium has some spectacularly ugly trophies I can recommend.'

'Maybe another time,' he says with a gentle smile. I can't help noticing that everything about him is gentle, which is pretty cute. Not that I'm attracted to guys. For me, people who defy toxic masculinity norms get points without even trying. 'Kai. I just moved here. My dad sent me to check out the school.'

'That'd make sense. More so than the thievery,' I say, and he laughs again, accepting my enthusiastic handshake. 'All right, I have to show you around.'

'Oh. I've already been.' Kai adjusts his shoulder bag. It has a pressed green-yellow maple leaf pinned to the front. 'The librarian gave me a tour. Mrs Barlowe, I think her name was?'

'I didn't mean the school,' I say dramatically, stepping closer to him so our heads are almost touching and sweeping my arm across the horizon. He seems a little uncomfortable, so I move away. 'There's a whole neighbourhood out there. Fernsworth awaits.'

'I like it so far,' he says, following me as I traipse across the grass, though the pattern of his feet indicates that his mind is elsewhere. 'I miss Klento, though.'

I can tell he's holding something back, but I don't want to ask because it might be related to the thing I'm supposed to be forgetting. It probably is. 'Where's Klento? Haven't heard of it before.'

'Melbourne,' he says. We've reached the school gates now, where a group of kids are sitting at the bus stop shelter, still waiting for their ride. Jasmine Kwon looks up at me and smiles. Oh my goodness, she is incredibly pretty. How is she so pretty? I think I've forgotten how to smile and wave back. Or breathe, for that matter.

Kai's voice brings me back to reality. 'It's the suburb with the weird, huge stones? We call it Stone-on-Cone because they look like ice cream. Together.'

I have no idea what he's talking about, but my reaction to rocks that look like ice cream is the same regardless. 'That's insane.'

'Yeah,' he says, but now that my mind has finally shelved thoughts of Jasmine, I can tell there's a layer of sadness underneath. I hope that's not because of me.

We walk in silence for a minute longer. I kick at a couple of leaves that have turned crunchy on the sun-baked pavement, but are somehow still green. We're nearing the little kids' playground where I first met Hazel four years ago. It was pretty hard to ignore her, seeing as we were the only kids there over the age of about six.

I'm just about to point the playground out to Kai when he says, 'Tell me about you.'

It catches me off guard again. I shake my untameable, wispy puff of sandy hair out of my face and watch him as we both step over a huge wad of chewed gum on the pathway. 'What about me?'

'Anything.'

I hesitate for a second, then shake it off. 'Well, I'm in Year Eleven.' He nods for me to continue. 'I have an older brother. Gabriel, but everyone calls him Gabe. I...um...I've lived in Fernsworth for three years. And a bit?'

I try to think of something else that vaguely encapsulates me, but my mind draws a blank amidst the words I can't stop seeing. Self-entitled try so hard pities faking it no one no one no one would want to be friends with you.

'Cool,' Kai says. 'Where'd you live before here?'

'New Caledonia.' I drop my gaze to the patches of clovers on the grass beside where we're walking and pray he doesn't ask why we moved. That's a conversation I'm not ready to bring back up with myself, let alone a near stranger.

Thankfully, he doesn't. 'You're French?'

'Yeah,' I say, trying to keep the relief out of my voice. 'I mean, my mum is. Dad's British. But she's taught me a lot about French culture. Mostly food-wise, but that's the most important thing.' I look up at him to see if my joke cracked a smile, but his eyes have this glazed look. He's staring out to the horizon, where little weatherboard houses line both sides of the street as far as the eye can see.

'Did I say something?' I ask when he doesn't reply for a few seconds too long.

He gives a start and turns back to me. 'Oh. No. It's just...well...'

I listen and wait.

'Sometimes I...can we sit?' We've reached the large, cube-shaped stone seats outside the corner shop. Leanne, the friendly lady who runs it, waves at me from through the window, then makes an embarrassing winking and pointing motion towards Kai when his back is turned. I expect she's asking if he's my boyfriend. Poor, sweet, heteronormative woman. If only she knew.

'Sometimes I wonder what it's like,' Kai continues carefully, looking at me but not into my eyes, 'to have a parent who shares their culture with you. What is it like?'

It's not a question I've ever thought about before. My mum being French has just always been part of my life. 'It's like having a new side of you,' I say honestly. 'That ties in with who you already are and your family. I guess it's cool to know you're keeping traditions and that alive.'

He nods silently. I'm wondering if he's going to tell me the context of his question or leave it there when he says, 'Dad's mostly too busy to share our Taiwanese side with my sister and I. And my mum's...not around.'

'Oh.' I look at him, not sure what to say. 'Is she –'

'No.' He fidgets with the maple leaf on his bag for a few moments, eyes emotionless but blinking, fixed on the house opposite. 'She's still out there. I think. I don't know. I haven't seen her since I was eight.'

'Oh.' I still don't know what else to say. I feel like giving the standard response – I'm sorry, but I've always hated it when people say that and they've got nothing to be sorry for.

We sit for a second in silence. Kai exhales a little and tears his eyes away from across the road, giving me a slight, sheepish smile. 'It's a bit of an overshare. I hope you don't mind.'

'Not at all.'

He nods slowly before standing up from his stone seat. 'Well, my dad is expecting me home in an hour to cook dinner. With Isla.'

'Your sister?' I stand up too, bundling my headphones and jumper into my bag.

'Yeah. He's at a press conference tonight. Big one.'

'At the courthouse?'

'Yes.' He pauses and studies my face. 'How'd you know?'

'My mum was going to go, but the party chose someone else to represent them at the last minute...It doesn't matter. I don't think it's fair that you guys are by yourselves on your first night in Fernsworth.'

Kai shrugs, thumb hooked into the strap of his shoulder bag. 'I don't mind. We're used to it.'

'Mind. I demand you to.' I almost punch him in the arm like I'd do with Hazel, but then remember that we met less than two hours ago. 'What do you say we invite you to dinner?'

'Huh?' He seems genuinely confused. Like any newbie to the ways of Remy would be.

'Step one, we grab your sister. Step two, we all eat at my place and get to know each other over Mum's world famous pot au feu. Step three, you take the leftovers home for your dad. Easy done.' I conclude my speech with the same pose our orchestra conductor strikes when he's particularly satisfied with himself, or, less frequently, us.

'Uh...' Kai hides a smile behind his fist. 'I – we...'

'Come on, you know you want to.'

He doesn't argue with that.

~~🍃~~

'Rémy, les carottes, s'il te plaît...'

I accept the five washed carrots my mum hands me and set to work peeling them. Kai watches curiously from the bar stool counter seat he was forced to take as the whirlwind of red apron, bobbed greying hair, and knives that is my mother bustles continually from stove to countertop. She chats as she goes.

'Kai, dear, it's lovely to meet you. And your sister, the sweetest.'

Kai coughs to disguise a laugh. 'That's one way of seeing her.' He looks behind him to see Isla wandering around our dining room, studying the family photos and paintings hanging on the walls. Wispy reams of hair frame her face as she fidgets with her hands. 'Pardon. She's...a bit of a wanderer. Would you like me to get her to join us?'

'Don't worry about it. Now, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?' my mum asks, dotting at her eyes with her forearm as she quarters the onions.

'I draw,' he says. 'My friends and I were creating a mural before I moved.' I nearly run the peeler over my finger when I glance up at his expression. It's wistful, like his tone.

'I see.' Mum squints an eye at her casserole dish. For some inexplicable reason, she thinks the arrangement of the vegetables will make or break the meal. Personally, I can't see past the fact that everything gets mixed up in our stomachs anyway, let alone in the pot. 'Do you like to be actif as well? Play a sport? Like Gabe. Remy's brother, he loves football.'

Kai hesitates, and I say, 'Not all boys play sports, maman. All genders can play sports if they choose to, or not.' I sweep the carrot peels into our compost tub.

'Ah.' She contemplates this as she covers the pot. 'That makes sense. How about your parents?'

'They don't play sports either,' Kai jokes, leaning his chin on his hand, 'but my dad's a journalist.'

'Then we may meet!' My mum looks embarrassingly excited at the prospect, now that her casserole dish perfectionist tendencies are no longer needed. 'I'm an MP for Fernsworth.'

'I've heard.' He shoots a small smile in my direction.

'Your mother, is she a journalist too?'

He visibly freezes for a split second and I try to think of something to say, but his face has already smoothed over. 'She was, but I'm not sure about now. I don't see her very often.'

My mother nods sympathetically like she's an expert on the topic whilst simultaneously unbuckling her apron. 'Separated families. It can be hard.'

'It's not really,' a voice comes from the back of the dining room. Isla's still standing there, looking at us as we turn to her. 'Not for us. Kai is an amazing brother. He takes care of me just as well as our mother could. And Dad tries his best.'

It's meant to be sweet, and I see Kai gaze at his sister with affection, but of course my mum has to take offence. 'Mais non! You cannot substitute a mother's love with that of a brother's. Or even a father's. It's not the same.' I feel like hiding my face in my hands.

'You don't know us,' Isla says in a tight voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kai making frantic gestures in her direction. 'But...I respect your opinion.' She raises her eyebrows back at him.

There's a supremely awkward silence filled with nothing but the simmering of the pot au feu. My mother opens her mouth, then closes it again. Phew.

'What about your family?' asks Isla after a minute, probably to break the ice that has refrozen over the conversation. I can't wait until the pot finishes boiling, but last time it took an hour and who knows when Mum will declare it ready today. 'Remy has an older brother?'

'Yes, yes, dear Gabriel.' She looks relieved to be moving away from the subject of their mother. 'He'll be home in time to meet you both. Lovely son, but he seems to have an addiction to video games.'

'A crippling one,' I deadpan. 'If he ever gets fired when he's older, we won't need to ask why.' My mum tuts at me, but we're all laughing, and I feel the atmosphere in the room lift a little.

Isla is looking back at our family photograph. It was taken on a beach in Nouméa some years ago, and we're all smiling and holding up ices to the camera. 'How about your younger brother?' She turns her head back to me, and I feel a wave of blind panic in that instant, the kind that chases a cold sweat all over your body. Five of us in the photo. 'When will he be home?'

There's a resounding crash of shattering porcelain as my mother drops a plate she was bringing to the table. 'Sorry,' she calls weakly, voice strained. 'I'll get a...' She swipes at her face before leaving the room hurriedly.

I face Kai and Isla. 'My brother, Leo, he...passed away. In an accident.'

'Oh. No.' I can tell by Isla's face that she feels terrible. 'I'm sorry. I – I had no idea. I shouldn't have asked like that.'

'It's okay,' I say. 'Mum gets upset from time to time about it. I mean, we all do, but...' I trail off because I have no idea how to finish the sentence.

Kai doesn't say a word, but he looks at his sister and then at me before taking both of our hands and squeezing them. We stay like that for a few moments before I pull away. Mostly because I'm worried my mum will think we're engaging in some cult ritual if she comes back in and sees us.

'We know what it feels like to have a gap,' Kai says, studying my hand on the table, 'where someone used to be. But it's different when the person never meant much to you. The outline is blurry.'

I nod slowly. Isla gives her brother a light punch in the shoulder. 'That's deep,' she says. 'I think you should devote the rest of your life to writing therapy books.'

'Shush,' he says, but trades a side smile with me. A few seconds later, the moment is broken by the smick-smack of my mum's slippers on tile as she approaches with the dustpan.

'Maman...?' I trail off, as she bends down to sweep up the pieces in the fastest motion humanly possible. It's clear she's been crying – her mascara has left two streaks of grey down her face. 'Est-ce que ça va?'

'It's...' my mother says. She presses the back of her hand to her eyes and takes a deep inhale. 'I think you need to go.' It takes me a moment to register that she's speaking to Kai and Isla.

'But they just got here,' I protest. 'I thought we were going to eat together. They won't –'

'We'll go,' Kai interrupts quickly. He looks at my mum for a moment, eyes soft. Then he adds, 'Thank you for today, Mrs Griffin. I – we' – he glances at his sister – 'we're sorry to have upset you.'

'Don't speak for me,' Isla mutters loud enough for us to hear, elbowing him. She turns to my mum. 'It's my fault. I understand why we have to go.'

My mother turns from the fridge with a container of potato salad leftovers and hands it, with a wan smile, to Kai. 'For tonight.'

'Thank you,' he mouths, accepting the container and bending to sling his bag over his shoulder. 'We'll show ourselves out?'

'Don't.' I follow him and Isla to the front door, then realise there's nothing much for me to say. I lean awkwardly against the doorframe as they put their shoes on. 'Okay, um, well. If there's anything you guys need...'

'Thanks, Remy.' Kai looks at me with something that is not quite a smile, but his face exudes warmth. 'You've been – I'm really grateful we met today.'

'See you,' Isla says with a little wave, and I watch them walk down the driveway. Isla swings Kai's arm back and forth, and for a second I feel a desperate yearning for being an older sibling. It's something I think I've forgotten not in name, but in feeling.

When I return to the dining room, my mother is poring over a book at the table. 'Rémy.' She closes it hurriedly, but I can already see there's a photo album in front of her. It doesn't take Sherlock to guess why. 'Tu m'as fait un choc.'

'Are you feeling well, maman?' I ask gently, reaching a hand out towards the stove to turn it off before the pot au feu is completely evaporated. 'Did thinking about Leo upset you?'

'Un peu,' she says. 'Mais ce n'est rien. It's nothing.' She gets up nonchalantly and slides the album back onto the shelf as if nothing happened. 'I just remembered I have an...online conference. That's why I had to ask your friends to leave.' I'm no expert, but I'd say her lack of eye contact is suspicious.

'Wait, hold up.' I stand up straighter and clasp my hands behind my back. 'What about how you were –'

'I told you, Rémy, j'ai une conférence –'

'– crying? You've never reacted like this to a mention of Leo before, and –'

'Grief works in different ways,' my mother says softly, and lifts her head to look at me. 'Now, I have to go or I'll be late.' She pushes past me into her study and I hear the click of the door.

I stare after her for a minute. Then I half-heartedly push my fist into the wall next to me. Nothing makes sense. It feels like at some point, in the space between one blink and the next, the universe decided to play by a different rulebook. Hazel's distracted, my mum's temperamental, and the idiot on PhotoGloble with nothing better to do than torment me will not stop, for the love of God.

I still need air.

Good on you for reading to the end (long chapter I know!) Next up will be a little Easter egg to show my appreciation. Stay tuned :)