"You want me to babysit? For who?"
Trixie smiled gently. "For us, dear."
Bluey blinked and glanced around the room a few times before looking back at her aunt and uncle. "O-kay..." she said slowly. "Who's the baby?"
"Maybe babysit isn't the right word," Stripe admitted, scratching at the back of his neck. "We need you to make sure Socks will be okay."
Bluey raised an eyebrow.
"She doesn't want anything to do with the whole campus trip," Trixie said, sounding resigned. "Says she hates the idea of Muffin, uh..." She rolled her eyes and raised her hands up to perform air quotes as she spoke in a dramatically low voice: "'wasting four more years of her life in that bullshit education system.' Oh, Bluey. I love her, but I wish I understood her. I wish she understood us."
Bluey thought to herself for a few moments, and then nodded. "Well... With all due respect, I don't mind staying with Sox while you all are gone, but I'm confused by what you mean. I 'need to make sure they're okay'...?"
"She's a very sensitive gi—" Trixie stopped herself short, thinking better of it at the last moment. "Socks...is a very sensitive teenager."
Bluey frowned, feeling her frustration starting to build. "Trixie, Stripe... Is Sox okay?"
Stripe sighed, putting a hand on Trixie's shoulder. "We gotta tell 'er, Trix."
Trixie nodded. "Well... When we first moved, it was because Socks was acting up in school so badly that they threatened to expel her. From kindy, Bluey." Trixie took in a shaky breath and dabbed at her eyes a little before looking back up at her niece. "It hurt us so much to bounce her between therapists and doctors. We really felt like the experts here in Raleigh were our only hope."
"And they did help," Stripe said. "Um, a little. Kind of."
"Never quite enough," Trixie sighed sadly.
"Can you be more specific?" Bluey prodded. "I don't mean to pry, it's just—"
"No, no, I understand." Trixie tapped her fingers on the table rhythmically as she seemed to consider how much to reveal. "Believe it or not, she's been...better, lately."
Bluey tried not to make a face at that, but judging by Trixie's sad chuckle, she clearly failed. "Sorry," she said.
"It's okay. I suppose to you she must seem like enough of a bully as it is. But she's far more in control of herself than she used to be." Trixie took a deep breath. "Socks suffers from ferality, Bluey."
Bluey's mouth formed an "o" as realization dawned on her. "She's feral! Oh, that makes sense!"
"Semi-feral, if you must!" Trixie retorted. "But we really prefer person-first language, dear, please."
Bluey yipped in surprise at Trixie's sudden insistent tone. "Oh, uh—sorry!" she said. "Um. Okay, well, yeah, that makes sense. I do actually know some stuff about ferality. Some of my friends are f—uh... have ferality. So I've done my research. And—"
"Bluey, mate, this isn't like any of your friends," Stripe said sternly. "I know they say it's a spectrum and all that, but Socks was very troubled. Still is. You don't know what it's like to see the light leave your kid's eyes and leave some wild animal behind."
"Oh, Stripe, don't scare the poor girl," Trixie scolded her husband. "Bluey, I mean it when I say she's doing much better. Honestly, if you ignore some of her quirks, she's mostly just a moody teenager these days. But you still deserve to know about her past."
Do I? Bluey wondered to herself. Somehow, this entire conversation felt more inappropriate and invasive towards Sox's privacy than almost anything Bluey had done since getting here.
...Almost anything.
"Y'alright, Bluey? What's on your mind?" Stripe asked.
You don't want to know, Bluey thought to herself, shifting awkwardly. "Nothing. Just... taking it all in." She tried to give them an earnest smile. "Don't worry about it, guys. I'll take good care of her, alright?"
"Oh, Bluey," Trixie said, smiling warmly and standing up to reach over and give Bluey a hug. "We know you will. Thank you so much, sweetie."
"I won't let you down," she promised, trying to ignore how much it felt like she was lying.
-----------------
"Why can't I stay here alone?!"
"You know why, Socks!"
"My name is Sox!"
Upstairs in the kitchen, Bluey sighed at the sounds of Stripe and Sox fighting. Muffin, meanwhile, seemed to be ignoring it just fine as she played a gacha game on her phone.
"For the love of—okay, Sox, explain to me why I should trust you on your own after what happened last time!"
"What happened last time?" Bluey couldn't help but ask, poking Muffin to get her attention.
"I'm almost 16 now, Dad."
"So?! Socks—Sox, love, you've got to understand why we're worried. It's not because I don't trust you, it's because I don't trust your—"
"You don't trust my ferality. Yeah, I get it."
"Oof!" Muffin winced, finally looking up from her phone at Bluey and gesturing towards the open basement door. "He's a bit harsher on 'em than my mum is, eh?"
"Yeah," Bluey said sadly. "Poor Sox."
"Hmm... Dunno if you'd be saying that if you know what he had to deal with last time," Muffin chuckled. Bluey raised an eyebrow expectantly, but Muffin shook her head. "Not telling, sorry. Sisterly code. Or, uh, siblingly code, I guess. Anyway, Sox's business is Sox's business, and my business is my business. Them's the rules. If you really wanna find out, you can ask 'em yourself."
Bluey was still quite curious, but she nodded amicably. "Fair enough," she agreed. "Gotta respect the siblingly code."
"Damn right!"
