"Yes of course!" Camillo says, automatically, and then looks around in alarm as he remembers that he might not have the authority to make this call.

Luckily, none of the older Tejanos seem to object. There's plenty of room at the table; the Tejano survival rate isn't as high as, oh, New York, and a decent number of the remaining upperclassmen are sitting with friends or allies at other tables, leaving only four older teenagers sitting and talking together and mostly ignoring the freshmen.

Among the freshmen -- in addition to Camillo -- there's another white boy; an Indian girl, perched on her chair and busily eating her food with a knife; and Mal, who doesn't have the power-sharing earring that would mark him as an enclave member but is being tolerated anyway.

"Thank you!" says Caio, and down he sits.

"--guys, this is," oh shit oh shit what was his name again, "Caio," please god. "Caio, this is Haozinne and Jake -- I know you told me your name this morning but I don't remember it--"

"Mal."

"Is there a subtlety in, uh, in pronunciation, that I'm not hearing, in your name."

"Like the critters."

"Wh...y?"

"Parents thought it reflected my sunny nature."

Okay. Caio is just gonna leave that there.

"...so, you really like brussels sprouts, huh?"

"They're okay. And they're always safe, I heard - I mean, still check, but apparently if you get used to them you can relax more at meals. But I'd trade you for applesauce if you wanted."

"Not in a million years. Thanks though."

"You're welcome."