Once a month, the children were given fresh clothing—a cruel joke, since the “fresh” clothes were old uniforms dug from the pile in the shed. But they still treated it like a holiday.

Corin always picked the most ridiculous outfit possible. One week he wore breeches three sizes too small. The next, he donned a formal doublet with a ruffled collar and paraded around like a noble.

Akari once found a scarf longer than he was tall. Mirae wrapped it around his arms like a warrior’s bandage. “You’re ready for battle now,” she said. “Don’t let the laundry win.”

They turned the laundry room into a battleground. Pillow duels. Sock grenades. Rael just sat in the corner with a book, sipping stolen tea and pretending not to smirk.

Even Lira, usually the quiet one, once stole a pair of bright red gloves and insisted everyone “name their battle forms.”

Caeli called herself Captain Crumbs.

Akari was Shadow Hood, master of vanishings.

They laughed until their stomachs hurt.