Poppy finally emerged, still in her pajamas with her hair in a messy bun that looked like it had been constructed by someone who'd given up halfway through. She shuffled to the table and collapsed into a chair without saying anything.
“Morning, Pops,” I said, setting a plate in front of her. “Sleep well?”
She made a noise that might have been words in some language I didn't speak.
“She's not human before nine,” Micah translated helpfully. “Give her ten minutes and food. She'll come back to life eventually.”
“I'm right here,” Poppy muttered, picking up her fork. “I can hear you talking about me like I'm a feral animal.”
“If the shoe fits.” Talia grinned at her. “How's the history test prep going?”
“It's going. I know enough not to fail spectacularly.” Poppy took a bite of eggs and seemed to wake up slightly. “Mr. Henderson is obsessed with dates. Like, pathologically obsessed. Who cares what exact day the treaty was signed? It was 1783, that should be close enough.”
“That's not how history works,” Micah said.
“That's exactly how history works. We're talking about events from hundreds of years ago. Nobody alive was there. The dates are made up.”
“The dates are not made up, Poppy. That's literally the opposite of history.”
“You're both wrong,” Talia cut in. “History is just propaganda that got written down by whoever won. The dates are real, but the narrative is bullshit.”
I listened to them argue about the nature of historical fact while I ate my eggs, and despite the heaviness sitting on my chest, I felt the corners of my mouth pull up. This was good. This chaos, this warmth, this ridiculous bickering that meant theywere all here and safe and alive. This was what I'd fought for when everything had fallen apart.
“Soren's smiling,” Poppy announced suddenly. “That's suspicious. What are you planning?”
“I'm not planning anything. I'm enjoying my family.”
“Lies. You only smile like that when you're about to do something annoying.” She pointed her fork at me accusingly. “Are you going to make us clean today? Is that what this is?”
“The apartment's a disaster,” Talia said. “We should probably clean.”
“Traitor!” Poppy looked betrayed. “You're supposed to be on my side!”
“I'm on the side of not living in filth like raccoons.”
“Raccoons are adorable and we should aspire to their lifestyle.”
Micah laughed so hard he nearly choked on his coffee. “Poppy, that's the worst argument I've ever heard.”
“Your face is the worst argument you've ever heard.”
“That doesn't even make sense!”
“You don't make sense!”
I let them dissolve into chaos, trading insults that had no real heat behind them, and tried to hold onto this moment instead of thinking about everything else. Talia caught my eye across the table and gave me a look that said she knew exactly what I was doing.
They finished eating, Micah still complaining about his group project, Poppy still half-asleep despite the food, and Talia organizing everyone's day with the efficiency of a general commanding troops. Backpacks were grabbed, lunches were packed, Poppy was reminded about her textbook three times before she went to get it.
“Love you guys,” Micah called as he headed out the door first, already late for his class.
“Love you more!” Poppy shouted after him, then turned to me. “You good today?”
“Yeah, Pops. I'm good.”
She studied me for a second with eyes that were way too perceptive for someone who claimed to be barely conscious before nine. Then she nodded, apparently satisfied, and followed Micah out the door.
Talia lingered, grabbing her bag but not leaving yet. She waited until we heard the front door close before she turned to look at me.
