Sulien is in loose cotton pants and a loose cotton long-sleeved shirt. The heat doesn’t touch him, apparently.
“Hello, boys.”
Sulien sets the picnic basket down and sits beside me. He doesn’t talk much but offers me a smile.
Emerson cups his mouth and hollers, “Uncle Malin!”
My heart jumps as Malin turns his attention this way. He generally ignores everything around him unless someone calls his attention. Especially when he’s floating on the lake.
“Come in, Uncle Malin. My dad says you need to stay hydrated, and I have a cold drink for you!”
Malin adjusts himself on the lounge and reaches for his paddle. Rhythmically, he makes his way to us.
Emerson remains on his feet. The three of us watch as Malin makes his way across the lake until the side of his float bumps my knees. I grip the edge. His eyes meet mine briefly before he looks at Emerson.
Emerson pulls out a small backpack with a water tube. I’m reminded of a gerbil watering bottle and try not to smile. I know it’s one of those packs hikers use.
“Dad says you better have it all gone before you get off the lake,” Emerson says, grinning.
Malin inclines his head as he accepts the water. We watch as he takes a long drink, closing his eyes.
“It has lots of ice,” Emerson says. “And the pack is insulated, so it’ll stay cold for a while, but my dad says it’s not good to always drink icy water when it’s super hot out. Me and Suli overrode him because it feels good to have a really cold drink when it’s so hot.”
Malin nods. “Thank you, Em, Suli.”
Sulien smiles. “You’re welcome.”
“Is the water nice?” Emerson asks as he gets to his hands and knees and reaches into the water. “It’s like bathwater.” He sighs.
“Can I float with you?” Sulien asks.
Malin nods. He drops his feet to the sides and then offers his hand to help Sulien onto the float. Emerson hands his brother a bottle of water, and I let go of the float. Sulien turns so he’s facing Malin and lies on his back, folding his legs so they lie over Malin.
I watch as the water gently rocks them away from us. Neither speaks. They barely move as they float on the lake.
Emerson hands me a sandwich from the basket. I accept it with gratitude.
“How’s school?” I ask after a few minutes.
He shrugs. “It’s fine. Axl is starting an axe-throwing club.”
I shake my head. Shocking. “What’re you doing?”
“Dad is taking me to visit a couple local schools so I can see the kinds of clubs and stuff that they have.”
Malin brings the tube to his mouth. The side of my lips curls a little. He’s so obedient. Even to his younger nephews and nieces. He’ll have that water gone before he gets off the water, just as he’s been instructed.
“Maybe some sports. Our school is still really small, though,” Emerson continues.
I glance behind me in the direction where the newest road on the Estate leads through a line of trees. When you’re looking inthat direction, you can just barely make out a hint of a couple buildings where the Van Doren K-12 private school is located.
Not for the first time, I wonder what it would have been like to attend school here on the Estate. There are times when I think it would be awful. Spending your entire life on the Estate, including going to school. Never being exposed to the outside world.
Then again, they have access to the highest educated teachers and are taught an advanced curriculum designed for truth and readiness out in the world. It combines a lot of other countries’ curricula, including cleaning, basic living necessities, and adult responsibilities being introduced over time.
It’s pretty cool. I’m slightly jealous.
There’s no way I could have attended the school, though. It’s only been open for the last six years. Just in time for Emerson to begin pre-K.
