Madeline
  Should we meet up at the school gates? (Sent 07:45)

  His phone chimed. Vicente picked up his phone and scrolled through Madeline's latest message while pushing a tray full of custard buns into the oven. The first batch would probably get the restaurant through the morning, and Yao could make the rest. Of course, he'd continue making them once he got home. His phone chimed again. The next message read:

  In around twenty minutes maybe (Sent 07:45)
  Lucien needs help cleaning the kitchen (Sent 07:45)

  An indignant shout from behind him nearly made him drop his phone. Yao marched up to the oven and slammed the door shut, turning dials while speaking so quickly Vicente could barely make out the words. "Oh my goodness, don't look at your phone while putting things in the oven lah. What if the temperature is too hot or the buns are tipping over and you don't notice because you're texting this Madeline girl?"

  "He's talking to Madeline?" Ling popped her head into the kitchen. She was desperately trying to tame her rat's nest hair and was still in her yellow pyjamas.

  "Yes. I mean no." He put on an oven mitt and went to take out the batch of egg tarts he'd popped in a few minutes ago. "I mean, how did you know?"

  "Well, firstly, I saw her name on your screen," Yao said, his voice becoming muffled as he leaned into the freezer and rifled through packs of food. He popped out victoriously a few moments later holding a packet of pork belly. "And secondly, apart from our contacts, hers is the only one you have."

  Another egg tart was placed on the cooling rack, and another on a plate for a customer outside. "I could've been talking to Kiku."

  Leon popped up at the kitchen window to fetch the plate and a tall glass of iced milk tea. "But you don't smile at your phone when texting Kiku," he remarked, "you only do that when you're texting Madeline."

  "I smile?"

  "I know, it's really creepy," Ling said.

  "He kind of looks like he's planning a murder."

  Vicente ignored his younger brother and turned his phone on again, typing his reply.

  I'll be there, I'm about to leave home (Sent 07:48)

  His bag was placed behind the cashier, and he slung it over a shoulder as he left. "Good luck," Yao called from the kitchen.

  Ten minutes later, the bus rolled up in front of Trofilos University. A bunch of people were gathered around the entrance — a few parents saying goodbye to their kids, some old friends reunited after the summer and nervous-looking freshmen among them. Vicente shuffled through the crowd, shoulder already hurting from his textbook-filled bag.

  While making his way towards the gates, someone nearly knocked him over. They grabbed his arm right before he could fall, saying quickly, "I'm so sorry! Are you all right?"

  "It's all right, I'm not hurt or anyth — " He looked up. "Lucien?"

  Lucien's blond hair was free of a hairnet, and his embroidered blue jacket had no flour smudges on it. Outside the Boulangerie, he looked like an entirely different person. "Oh, you visited us a few weeks ago. Are you starting your first year here?"

  "Yeah." Vicente straightened up and massaged his arm. "I'm taking the hospitality undergraduate program."

  "Ah, so is my younger sister. The two of you can be friends. Knowing her, she'll have quite some trouble talking to others, but maybe you can get her to come out of her shell." So Lucien really didn't know that they spent every Sunday morning together.

  "I think it's nice that you came here to send her off," he said. "My brother's too busy working."

  He smiled. "Well, I have to look out for her. I nearly worried myself to death just when we walked here together, especially when we got near this crowd."

  "Really? Why?"

  His smile faded. "She gets nervous in noisy places like this sometimes, because... well... I don't know if I should tell you, really, but..." Lucien glanced around like he was worried someone would hear him. He lowered his voice, whispering, "well, she's on the spectrum."

  Why did Lucien say that like he was ashamed? Vicente asked, "you mean she's autistic?"

  "I — " He looked around again. "Yes. I trust you won't spread this around?"

  He shook his head. "I won't see Madeline as any different because of this."

  "Oh, good," Lucien said, relieved. "I have to go back to the Boulangerie now. Good luck with your classes."

  He watched him leave the campus. Vicente turned around and resumed his search for his friend, this time with what Lucien had told him on his mind. For some weird reason, he'd acted like having an autistic sister was the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to anyone. How could somebody be so unusual, to think of their own flesh and blood as shameful for something they couldn't help? He knew for sure that he wouldn't think of his siblings any differently no matter what.

  He looked at his watch. He had exactly two minutes to find Madeline. Vicente weaved through the people around him, Lucien's words still echoing. There would be a few more things he'd have to pay attention to when spending time with Madeline. With her brother already treating her like something to be humiliated about, he could at least try to accommodate her in ways Lucien probably didn't.

  He found Madeline standing next to a clump of bushes, her bag clutched to her chest. She looked nervous, her eyes darting around the rest of the entrance tentatively and poised to run. Relief flooded her expression as Vicente approached.

  Her expression was still a little wary. He waved half-heartedly, adjusting his glasses. "Hello?" He tried.

  "You're early," Madeline commented. She pulled out a pair of earplugs from her ears and slipped them into her pocket, taking a deep breath. "I thought I'd have to wait for at least ten more minutes."

  "Well, I'm here now." He stepped back slightly to give her space. "I saw Lucien while he was leaving, by the way."

  "He was here?"

  "Yeah, was he not supposed to be?"

  "He — He was. Supposed to be here, I mean." Madeline ran her fingers over a ribbon stitched to her bag. "But that doesn't really matter. Let's go inside."

  He nodded, keeping close to the walls as they waded through the sea of people towards the main building. The door was wide open, revealing a vast foyer where a few students were milling around. The walls were painted vividly with images of forests and meadows, the light pale blue from the stained-glass skylight. The two of them followed the hand-painted directions on the walls up winding glass stairs, past still-empty classrooms until they reached room 204, where their first class was to be held.

  They were the only ones in the room. Vicente slung his bag off his shoulder, walking towards a desk towards the back of the room. Madeline chose a desk at the corner, placing her bag down tentatively as though she expected it to explode.

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Vicente's phone chimed. He picked it up, wondering if it was Yao wanting to check on him before realising the message was from Madeline.

  Why isn't she just talking to me? He wondered. We're literally in the same room. But he turned on his phone and read the message anyways:

  Do you want to have some coffee after classes are over? (Sent 08:23)

  He peeked at Madeline and found her typing away, bag on her lap. A plain beige notebook was placed on the desk, and she ran her fingers over the cover idly. Vicente looked away and replied:

  Sure (Sent 08:23)
  There's a cafe near the city hall (Sent 08:23)
  Should we go there? (Sent 08:24)

  The answer came in seconds.

  Oh! You mean The Cove (Sent 08:24)
  Okay, it's a nice place (Sent 08:24)

  The door swung open and a few more students showed up. He noticed Madeline switch off her phone and put it into her pocket, expression turning guarded again.

  Part of him wanted to ask her if she was all right, but a sudden shout from one of his new classmates made him drop his phone with a clatter, and he jumped. Maybe he'd ask her at the cafe.

...

  Seven hours later, his notebook partially-filled with notes on marking schemes, syllabi and reading recommendations, Vicente followed Madeline into The Cove. It was right across the road from Boulangerie Bellecourt, shaded by neat, pastel blue-and-white awnings. Even from the outside, he could hear the blare of trumpets from the wartime tunes playing inside.

  Madeline pushed the door open and waved at a waiter, who led them through the dimly-lit cafe, seating them at a table next to a bookshelf bulging with books. Once the waiter had left, she turned towards Vicente and asked, "do you want anything special? The peppermint tea is excellent. I've heard someone call it 'boiled toothpaste', but they serve it with cookies here and that really brings out the flavour. The owner isn't very good at cooking or baking, apparently, and the only thing he's trusted to make are cookies."

  "Uh," he said, very intelligently. "Not really, I think I'll just get some hot coffee."

  She called a waiter over and placed their order. As the waiter walked away, Madeline fiddled with the satin ribbon on her braid, asking, "you've been here before?"

  "My sister and I came here once."

  She looked surprised. "You have a sister?"

  "A younger sister, a younger brother, an older brother and an older stepsister who doesn't live with us," Vicente said. "Our apartment can get cramped sometimes."

  The waiter returned with their coffee. Madeline pulled a cup towards herself and took a sip from it, the steam clouding her glasses. "You have lots of siblings," she commented. "I only have two brothers. You already know Lucien, and there's also my twin brother Matthieu."

  "Are they annoying? My younger siblings can be total demons, especially first thing in the morning." He remembered something. "Leon, my younger brother, once almost pulled a sleeve off my shirt."

  "Matthieu is fine." Madeline took another sip of her coffee. "At least, I've learned to like him after eighteen years of sharing a room with him. And Lucien always means well in everything he does, it's just that he does everything wrong." She sighed into her cup. "Anyway, how are your older siblings?"

  "Yao is probably the best older brother someone could ask for, even if he's fussy and overprotective sometimes. My stepsister Kiku was really quiet when she first started living with us, but she's warmed up since then."

  "I'd like to meet them one day," Madeline said. She pushed the other cup of coffee towards Vicente, as well as the pitcher of cream the waiter had set down. "Come on, drink before it gets cold."

  He stirred a bit of cream into the cup and dropped in a sugar cube before sliding the pitcher across the table again. "Do you want any?"

  Madeline shook her head, swirling around the last few drops of her black coffee. "When you work in a bakery, sometimes you get tired of having sweet things."

  They finished the rest of their coffee in silence, gathered their bags and went out to the register to pay. Vicente got his purse out before Madeline, paying for their drinks before she could protest. "I could've covered that," she insisted, "you already spend so much money at the Boulangerie."

  Outside, they made arrangements to meet again the next morning, at the same time and place. Then Madeline bade him goodbye and crossed the road to Boulangerie Bellecourt, while he made his way to the bus stop.

  To his surprise, Leon was waiting for the bus there, too. He looked up as Vicente neared, asking, "so how was your date?"

  "My what?"

  "Your date," Leon repeated. "When you and Madeline were in The Cove like five minutes ago, probably having profound, romantic conversations over coffee."

  "It wasn't a date, we just decided to have some coffee after class. There wasn't anything romantic about it." He wiped off his glasses, looking at his younger brother incredulously. "Anyway, how did you know I was at The Cove?"

  Leon snorted, kicking him in the shin. "Because I was there. I was literally a few tables away, having hot chocolate, and you were too busy talking to notice me."

  "Oh."

  "But anyway, how was it? Maybe a few dates later you two are going to get real close and make babies and I'll get to be an uncle. Can you imagine being an uncle at sixteen?"

  "No! I'm not going to... to..." Vicente's face felt hot. "You know. No. You're not going to be an uncle."

  The bus pulled up at the station.

  "Yeah, yeah, sure." Leon kicked him again and jumped on the bus. "Now come on, let's go home."