Page 9 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
Tami bristled. “What do you mean?”
“Rivven have long lifespans. They may never win over theirdetractors, but they can outlive them. If the next generation grows up with inhumanmentors and peers, the stigma will fade to nothing.”
“Is that so bad?” Tami asked softly.
Her dad gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Nope. They’rewiser than we’ve been, on the whole. And more patient than many folks deserve. Whenwill you get your Rivven?”
Melissa cringed inwardly. She’d never understood why theAmaranthine so easily accepted the label, but in America, they were almostuniversally referred to as Rivven. It bugged her that the media had slappedtheir own label on a culture that predated theirs by millennia.
Yet the Amaranthine offered no protest. Under HisokaTwineshaft’s leadership, the clans prioritized peace over pride. If anyonepushed for the more respectful use of proper terms, it was nearly always areaver speaking up on an Amaranthine’s behalf.
Tami eagerly answered her father. “Assignments will befinalized by Christmas. Something to do with the winter solstice. They make bigdecisions and big announcements during the longest night of the year.”
Melissa wasn’t surprised. The Amaranthine might be willingto let some things go, but they observed Dichotomy Day without fail.
“My girl’s changing the world!” boasted Uncle Abel.
Aunt Hiro murmured, “To think, Amaranthine here. And allbecause of you.”
Which wasn’t true at all. Not only had Amaranthine settledin this area first, their community had been carefully crafted to foster ahuman one. Melissa kept her eyes down and tried not to get angry over simpleignorance. Let the lady principal think what she wanted.
But then Tami surprised her.
“I’m not so sure, Mom. You know, I met an Amaranthine todayfrom a dove clan. He said he’s been in Perch County all his life. That he lovesit here as much as we do. If this is his home, he can’t be alone. Maybe therehave been Amaranthine here all along.”
Her father said, “If there are, I’ve never seen hide norhair of them.”
“Why should we?” asked Tami. “It’s not as if they have anyincentive to come out of hiding.”
Uncle Abel was nodding. “The latest proposal involves registrybefore granting basic rights. And a few states are arguing hotly for tagging.”
“No politics during dinner.” Aunt Hiro began ferrying servingbowls to the table.
Tami accepted the change of subject and asked, “Where’sJoe?”
“Some quiet corner, I’m sure,” said Uncle Abel.
“I sent Grandad after Jiro.” The woman tilted an ear towardthe door. “There’s the tractor now.”
Turning to Melissa, Tami asked, “Have you met my twin?”
“Yes.” And again, she found herself adding more. “I didn’trealize you were twins.”
“Fraternal, of course.” Tami lingered beside the kitchendoor as if she’d had enough of being apart. When Joe entered on the heels ofthe old man who was obviously their grandfather, Tami slipped under Joe’s arm,earning a lopsided hug.
Now that they were side-by-side, Melissa could see obvioussimilarities. The shape of their eyes, their noses, their cheekbones—thesethey’d inherited from their mother. But Joe had his father’s forehead and chin,and Tami’s eyes were the same blue as Uncle Abel’s.
The old man cut straight to the corner console and picked upthe remote.
“We have a guest,” protested Aunt Hiro.
“She’s staying, but this won’t wait. It’s a live broadcast.”
Uncle Abel sheepishly explained, “My father’s a bit of aRivven fanatic, and tonight’s a big deal. Have you been following the Starmarkcourtship?”
“Not especially,” she lied.
A commercial was running for some new drama in the fallline-up. The old man kept it muted, but his gaze never left the screen. He waslong and lean like the other Armstrongs she knew, but his hair was pure white,and his blue eyes were partially obscured by reading glasses.
