I am there for it, but I don't know until after that I was there for it.

We're all gathered in the kitchen, around the counter, rice with too many spices bubbling on the stove, voices vibrating the water. Over and over, I tap my hands on the underside of the wood, trying and failing to figure out a rhythm to the vibrations everybody's making.

This morning, Parro came into the storefront and found me swimming in loops checking price tags, and said we weren't opening the store today so we were going back to our house with Mum and Da.

We're all gathered in the kitchen, and nobody's signing anything, and I have a box of stale kelp cakes to stare into instead of meeting Mum's gaze across the counter from me. But I have eaten none of the kelp cakes yet.

Parro also said in the storefront that Da suggested having a "normal" conversation "for once" instead of "all this handwaving" for me when I wasn't even "paying attention." Parro asked me if I was paying attention in the back room.

"Not really," I signed. "I was..." I was...holding onto the shelf with one hand and frantically trying to avoid having anyone notice the writing on the price tag roll... "busy."

"Good, I'm not in a mood to argue about it," he signed, and I sunk to the floor a bit, I didn't mean I was just ignoring everyone...

We're all gathered in the kitchen, nobody's signing because Da wants a "normal" conversation "for once" without "all this handwaving" and Parro doesn't feel like arguing about it.

So I am there for it, and don't know it until after.

Da's voice vibrates faster, Mum hugs Ange and squishes him in her huge red arms, Parro says something with eyes narrowed at Da, I avoid meeting Mum's eyes and I eat my first kelp cake--it's stale. Parro and Da are probably arguing about band shirts selling in the store, but then what are Mum and Ange hugging for?

Then Parro grabs the bubbling rice off the stove, and Mum takes over getting bowls ready for everyone, she plops one in front of me and signs that I need to eat healthier things than only snack cakes but I have only eaten one and the spices wafting from the bowls dotting the counter make my head nauseated so I don't eat any more.

But I make myself stay at the counter, staring into the flimsy kelp cake box, not ignoring everyone. Da's vibrating voice repeats something over twice and Parro glares back and vibrates something else and my arms prickle with staying here this close to everyone with my nauseated head, I quiver out my ankle fins.

I take my rice bowl around to the cupboard by the stove, behind Ange. I hide the bowl in the very back, put the kelp cakes in front of it, and the spice taste is so much stronger closer to the stove with the pot of leftovers. I try not to breathe and turn away. Mum's right there, too close, perfumed like oyster oil shaking up the rice spices, signing something at me but it fuzzes in my head and the spices attack my gums and throat and I can't can't stand Mum's gaze anymore or the vibrating or the spices attacking my prickling skin but I tried I did I work my fingers into "tired" sign and go to my room. Nobody--not even Mum--signs after my disappearance to ask me to come back, or--after I shut my door--thumps a vibration asking if I'm okay. My back fins quiver, I roll out my neck. Squirming under the quilts, I try to sleep, to forget about the bowl's greasy texture clinging to my hands, ignore the spice taste stuck under my lips.

After, late at night: I'm hungry, still unable to sleep, I go to the kitchen and Parro's curled up at the table.

So I stop in the doorway, stare back at his room but the door's closed. My wrist fins fidget.

Parro sits up. "Hey," he signs. "Why are you up?"

"Why are you awake?" I sign back. Mum and Da are sleeping at the store, but I still glance through the archway into the front room, looking for them. "I was hungry."

"I'm overanalyzing Da's statement today about if we're sure we're ready to take on a baby."

I stare at him. "You told them."

Parro lifts his hands. Lets them fall. Raises them again, "right. No one was signing anything."

"Rude," I blurt. My heart skips, "I mean--"

"I'm so annoyed at Da," Parro signs. "I should've just, started signing anyway. This is our house and our store, not his."

"But you didn't," my skin prickles, a feeling leaking its way out from my stomach. "And I ate stale kelp cakes and I don't even miss Mum or Da."

His eyes go half-lidded. "What?"

I bend my fingers back and forth. "You told Mum and Da about adopting."

"Yeah. Mum was predictably excited about having grandkids, Da said some dumb stuff about if we're really ready for the responsibility," he hesitates. His gaze slides away from me. "He thinks you and the store is enough responsibility for us."

"Oh," my body weighs me to the floor; what that means closes over me. "What?" But I get what he's saying, I know it, my stomach burns like lava. "You're not responsible for me."

"I know!"

"What did Mum say?"

Parro shrugs. "Nothing? I don't know, maybe she missed the implication. Maybe she was too busy hugging Ange."

"What did you say?"

Parro's gaze sinks to the table. "I told him we could handle a baby and that our store sign wasn't cute. I knew he'd complain about that, too."

"I thought...I thought you and Da argued about not selling band shirts."

His eyes go half-lidded. "We argue about...most stuff, actually," he smiles, weakly. "Not just band shirts."

"Oh," my stomach's hot. "What stuff?" is it my name on the store sign? Is it about me needing taken care of?

He shrugs. "You said you don't miss Mum or Da. What... When was the last time you even saw them? I don't remember."

I glance around the dark kitchen. The counter's bare. But my bowl of rice sits cold at the back of a cupboard. "My birthday. Almost eight years ago."

Parro nods slowly. "I remember that. You don't miss Mum?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I shrug. "I don't know," I bend my fingers back and forth. "I don't get it."

"I think I miss Mum sometimes. She does get a bit...naggy though."

No, Mum nagging about homework or store work has nothing to do with it. My fingers shake through the water, "I don't get why Mum taught everyone signing except Da and why she doesn't mind that he doesn't ever talk to me and why you all agreed to listen to him today and not sign anything so I just sat there bored I thought this was our house and we signed like regular and I'm not your baby responsibility but then why can't I live alone somewhere like Sta or your other friends do?" my heart jitters and my stomach wants to explode and hot prickles race up my fingers, spreading to my wrists and toes and limbs.

"I'm so annoyed," I sign, staring at the floor, back fins shaking hot.

Parro gets up from the table. "Da has this...he always makes me feel guilty. I hate it. Like, for not doing what he suggests. He's super nice the rest of the time and he likes everybody, so it makes me feel like a jerk for not doing what he kindly suggests would make things work better for everyone. Does that make sense?"

"No," I shudder my back fins. "Da has never spoken to me my whole life. I thought that was normal until..." until signing in the house, until getting invited to do things with the group in the store. "No, that doesn't make sense."

"Well," Parro signs, "maybe Mum thinks it's normal too," he nibbles his lip. "I know this is rude, but sometimes it's hard to tell if you're paying attention. So putting forth the effort to ask if you are paying attention and making sure to include you is... I'm sorry, maybe we all just thought that was normal. Or still do. Or I don't know."

"And today Mum made me anxious about what she might think of me and I don't like feeling that way and I don't think I have anything to say to her."

Parro sinks back to the table. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't..."

"I'm still sorry. For life, or whatever, or thinking not including you is normal."

"Oh," I pause. "You're not responsible for me."

"Yeah. I know."

"But you act like it."

Parro tilts his head. "How?"

I stare at the edge of the doorframe instead of him. "Why can't I include myself? You and Ange ask me to concerts, but I never ask you anywhere. I don't have any friends except that we're teaching your friends signing. I live with you and Ange, you don't live with me. I couldn't live at the surface so I quit school and joined you living down here. I can't even put money in the lockbox on my own. You had to leave the Monsters of the Deep concert because I couldn't deal with it. You had to let me come with you to the school activities."

"That's..." Parro hesitates.

"So I don't miss Mum either," my skin prickles hot. "When she pulled me out of school, she told me people were saying mean things about how I became a girl."

Parro winces.

"I didn't know anybody was saying mean things. The only person who said any bad things to me was Mum. Not anyone else."

Parro's eyes go half-lidded. Then his eyes widen, his lips pull down. "So you're saying, even though other people said those mean things, you didn't know about them until Mum told you, so basically the mean things came from Mum?"

I nod. "I left my rice in the cupboard."

"What?"

"It has too many spices. So I hid it in the cupboard. And Mum didn't even ask if I wanted any, she told me I should eat healthier and put it in my face and it gave me a headache."

"Oh no," Parro shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I knew you didn't like those spices."

"I've got it," I paddle closer to the table. "I know why I'm angry."

Parro's lip twitches. "Me too. But...how did we get on this topic?"

"I'm angry because Mum took care of me like she had to, not because she wanted to know me like a person. I'm angry since I can't go live on my own so if you and Ange die what'll I do? I'm angry because I'm terrified because I can't do any of...stuff on my own."

Parro stares at me blankly. My swim bladder sinks me to the floor. I bend my fingers back and forth, gazing at the white stove.

"This feels good, being super blunt," Parro signs. "I'm angry because Da doesn't think I'm good enough, because Mum is controlling, because I want to be a good parent but I'm afraid of turning out like Ange's parents. And I know I should appreciate our parents for being much better than his, and taking him in, except I'm afraid of being bad like our parents too--getting controlling like Mum, or being disappointed in one of my kids like Da acts disappointed with me," he sinks lower in the chair. "You know Da wanted me to run the wood carving business? He wanted me to stay at the surface and gradually take over the store there. Me and Ange and you moving down here was never their plan for the family business.

"The plan was for me to take over Dad's side, and Wrass to take over Mum's weaving, and I guess the two of us would joint-own the store and grow it bigger with our own families. Only, now we're down here and Wrass is doing the wood business, and Mum's got no one to learn her craft yet and Da blames me.

"I'm mad about that. I'm mad because what am I supposed to do? I can't please him or I'll be stuck doing boring stuff the rest of my life."

"Oh."

I paddle by him, over the counter, to the stove, and dig through the cupboard, the taste of sharp spices exploding out of the enclosed space. But I hold my mouth shut, take out the box of kelp cakes and hug it to my stomach, and pull out the bowl of rice. I set it on the counter, shut the cupboard, and fan the water to get rid of the bottled taste. It barely works. I float up higher and sign, "do you want the rice?" but Parro's already paddling over, signing we should make something to eat.

He pauses. Sinks by the counter.

"I was just going to eat kelp cakes," I sign.

"Alright, I guess I'll have the rice," he takes the bowl and scoops a hand in the sticky rice, not bothering with utensils.

We both sit on the floor, shoving food into our mouths, like two little kids sneaking candy and hiding behind the counter so our parents don't catch us.

"I'm glad you live with us," Parro signs with sticky fingers, "for what it's worth. And if Ange and I both die, you could always hire Anemon to work the storefront with you," he pauses. "Wait, did you know Anemon's looking for a job?"

"Ange told me. A while ago."

"Alright," he scoops more rice into his palm, dunks it into his mouth. He scrunches up his mouth. "This was better warm."

It wafts less taste when it's not warm. But I sign back, "these are better when they aren't stale."

I peer into the box, shake it around. The final two kelp cakes bobble around the thin wood, but I don't feel like finishing the box so I just set it in my lap. "When do you think Mum and Da are coming over in the morning? Or should we go over to the store? Are we opening the store?"

Parro shakes his head. "They want to go sightseeing in the city. We'll probably go to some shopping center and find a fancy restaurant and visit some dull war memorial. I don't know."

"Oh. Do I have to go?"

Parro shows his teeth. "If I'm going, you have to go too."