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From the journal of Antoine Lagace:
Fiona is like a girl in a Norman Rockwell painting. She has those rosy cheeks, that pretty brown hair, and those next-door looks that make you feel like you have the hots for your baby sister.
I think I could see my way past the guilt on that.
Fiona stands away from the rest of us, much like Baptiste. If we were all planets, Baptiste would be Jupiter, all big and gassy, and Fiona would be Pluto. She’s a little erratic… sometimes she dips out so far that you barely even notice her. (I’m Uranus, naturally.)
From what Kayla told me, Fiona had only been in Cochrane for a couple of years before the fires came. Apparently her parents were Mormons, which is odd since they only had the one kid; maybe that had made Fiona an outcast in Brampton, too, since she certainly fell into the role pretty easily when she got here. Kayla knew her from around and never liked her; to be honest, I don’t think Kayla’s ever given me a reason for it that makes any sense.
Fiona’s just as smart and funny as anyone who isn’t me, and she doesn’t have any odd ticks aside from the occasional God and Jesus schtick. But she is a little too attached to Baptiste… it’s pretty weird… and I’ve never been sure if she wants him to be a father to her or just fuck her. Either way, I’m sure she’ll end up disappointed with the result.
Maybe one day when she’s a little older I’ll let her know that I think she’s more than fuckable. Obviously I’ll find a better way to say it… I’ll probably feed her some bullshit about her eyes.
Church girls love compliments about their eyes. I think it’s because they’re too repressed to appreciate God’s good word on their tight little asses.