"And then there's my mom and dad…" she trails off.
"Divorced?"
"No. I think they'd have to be married to do that."
"That is typically how that works."
"I don't think they were ever married. I never saw a picture of my mom in a white dress."
"You mean like a picture of them at their wedding?"
"Yeah. And I always heard them yelling at night. If love is like that, it sounds exhausting. When do you sleep?"
"I'm sorry you had to listen to them fight." I run my hand through her hair and start braiding it. I'm not sure why. I just feel the need to comfort her right now, like I would with any of my friends.
"I don't think they were fighting."
I pause. "Didn't you say you heard them yelling?"
"Yeah. They were yelling, but they seemed to be having fun, if that makes any sense. Like they were playing a game or something."
"Ahhh. Yes, I'm sure they were having a lot of fun." I'm glad I'm standing behind her because my poker face is nonexistent right now. Dear god, this kid cracks me up. "That's one of the fun parts about being in a relationship. But you can have that kind of fun with people you're not dating, too. That's what I do."
I probably shouldn't be telling her this, but she's so ignorant, there's no way she gets what I'm saying.
"Can you do that with friends, too?"
"Sure."
"Do you do it with your friends?"
"I do. I also sometimes do it with people I don't even like, but that's because I have issues."
"Issues?"
"You know, like emotionally."
"I don't think you have issues. I think you're pretty cool."
"Thanks, kid." I tie off the end of her braid with the extra ponytail I carry on my wrist. "Alright, I’d better go check on some of the less skilled students."
"Thatisyour job."
"Brat." I take the end of her blonde braid and tickle herface with it, making her giggle as she tries to swat my hand away.
"Go help her." She points to a middle-aged woman across the room who's painting...I actually have no clue what it's supposed to be
"Her painting looks like a bu—" I quickly cover Clover's mouth with my hand, since she's talking loud enough for everyone to hear, and I'm pretty sure I know what she was about to say.
I lean down and whisper in her ear. "A butthole? Yeah, it really does."
The moment I release her mouth, she erupts into laughter, causing most of the heads in the room to turn towards us.
"Don't mind Clover, she's been huffing too much paint."
She can barely get the words out through her laugh, "What's huffing?"
"I'll tell you when you're older." Not wanting to say anything else that she might repeat to her parents, I pat her head and walk over to another student.
