“Vulnerable? Threatened?”
“Yes…” But I was feeling so much more than those two words.
“What else?” she asked. She scratched my back and I tried to relax.
“I don’t know. I just, I’m starting to care about him, you know?”
“Are you scared he’s gonna break your heart?”
“Maybe. I mean, I don’t think he would on purpose, but if she keeps coming after him…”
We hadn’t even kissed, and seeing him touch another girl tonight, regardless of the circumstances, burned me up inside with hurt and jealousy. On top of that I was scared for my family. I felt powerless.
“Let’s just take it day by day, ‘kay?” Cass asked.
I almost grinned at her wisdom, but my face was not up for it. Instead I whispered, “Okay.”
I almost asked Cassidy what in the world she was doing out so late, but then decided I didn’t want to know. At least not tonight.
She hugged me, smelling like fresh mud and other stream life.
“You can have first dibs on the bathtub tomorrow, chickadee,” I told her.
“You sayin’ I stink?”
“To high Heaven.”
She stood up and dropped her shorts on the floor with mine then climbed into her bed with the smelly shirt still on.
“Oh well,” she said. “Night.”
She sounded a little sad, but she was probably just tired and worried about me. I wished her goodnight and blew out the flame.
That evening I dreamed the FFG was luring McKale into the portal. I was running through the high grass, trying to get to him, but my movements were slow. Too slow. He followed her in, and the portal hung open, gaping. The two of them stood in the black hole, like a set of jaws ready to devour. I could see him, falling to his knees at her service. I screamed his name over and over, but he would not look away from her. She, however, looked right at me. And smiled.
The next week was awful and the weather didn’t help. It rained almost every day.
Mornings were spent with Leilah and Rachelle doing chore duties. If it wasn’t raining too hard Cassidy joined us. I’d really gotten the hang of it all, and some of the older women now acknowledged me and spoke to me in the kitchens. One even made an apron my size.
My favorite job was collecting eggs early in the morning. It was neat to stick my hand into the beds of straw in the hen house, wondering if my fingers would encounter a smooth shell.
McKale and I hadn’t spoken. Not really. When my parents invited him to eat meals with us I greeted him and kept my face expressionless. I had to look at him, otherwise my parents would get suspicious, but the moment his eyes began to plead with mine, I looked away. I was torn between being wary of getting closer to him, and wishing he would seek me out and bare his soul. This inner turmoil made me grumpy.
My parents weren’t dumb, and they knew me too well. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hide my mood. They planned picnics and walks for us as a family, attempting to cheer me or make me talk. Even when it was raining.
On the fifth day while thick clouds hovered above, we had a picnic dinner in a small flowery glen. Dad began walking around and pointing out different plants and herbs. He kept breaking off leaves and rubbing them between his fingers for us to smell. The fragrances were strong, spicy, and sweet. He peeled open a root of one and walked over to where I sat on the damp blanket. When he held it under my nose, an image of McKale’s shy smile came to mind. I closed my eyes.
“Licorice root,” Dad said. “You chew on it to extract the flavor. It’s too tough to eat.” Using a knife to cut off the outer layer, he handed me the bit of root like a candy stick. So this was what McKale often nibbled. When Dad turned around I tossed the thing away.
“It’s wonderful in tea,” Mom said, stretching out next to me.
“How do you know all of this?” Cassidy asked Dad.
“McKale’s been teaching me.”
My head snapped up. “He has? When?”
Dad plopped down next to me in the grass, not caring that it was wet. “We’ve taken a few walks together. He’s a smart boy. Has an eye for botany.”
It kind of warmed my heart that he’d been spending time with Dad. I pushed aside that nice thought and told myself not to care.
“I think it’s a shame that he sits all alone at meals,” Mom said. “Nobody pays him any mind.”
“Yes, it’s a shame,” Dad agreed. “I think bad habits have formed over the years, and it doesn’t help that McKale’s introverted. Somewhere along the line he closed himself off to relationships with the others, so he’s partially to blame for having no friends.”
“He does have a friend,” Cass said.
“Who? That Clourichaun boy?” Mom asked. “I imagine it’s not the same as having a close friend in his own clan, though. The Clour don’t share the same work ethic as the Chaun.”
“The Clour have responsibilities in their clan,” Cassidy said. “I mean, I assume they do, because otherwise how could they live. You know?”
“Doing the bare minimum to get by is a little different than having a hard-working, productive society,” Dad told her. “It may seem sexist the way the Chaun have rigid responsibilities for the men and women, but each individual’s role is important. Everyone benefits from one another’s hard work.”
Cassidy didn’t contradict or say anything else.
“Yes…” But I was feeling so much more than those two words.
“What else?” she asked. She scratched my back and I tried to relax.
“I don’t know. I just, I’m starting to care about him, you know?”
“Are you scared he’s gonna break your heart?”
“Maybe. I mean, I don’t think he would on purpose, but if she keeps coming after him…”
We hadn’t even kissed, and seeing him touch another girl tonight, regardless of the circumstances, burned me up inside with hurt and jealousy. On top of that I was scared for my family. I felt powerless.
“Let’s just take it day by day, ‘kay?” Cass asked.
I almost grinned at her wisdom, but my face was not up for it. Instead I whispered, “Okay.”
I almost asked Cassidy what in the world she was doing out so late, but then decided I didn’t want to know. At least not tonight.
She hugged me, smelling like fresh mud and other stream life.
“You can have first dibs on the bathtub tomorrow, chickadee,” I told her.
“You sayin’ I stink?”
“To high Heaven.”
She stood up and dropped her shorts on the floor with mine then climbed into her bed with the smelly shirt still on.
“Oh well,” she said. “Night.”
She sounded a little sad, but she was probably just tired and worried about me. I wished her goodnight and blew out the flame.
That evening I dreamed the FFG was luring McKale into the portal. I was running through the high grass, trying to get to him, but my movements were slow. Too slow. He followed her in, and the portal hung open, gaping. The two of them stood in the black hole, like a set of jaws ready to devour. I could see him, falling to his knees at her service. I screamed his name over and over, but he would not look away from her. She, however, looked right at me. And smiled.
The next week was awful and the weather didn’t help. It rained almost every day.
Mornings were spent with Leilah and Rachelle doing chore duties. If it wasn’t raining too hard Cassidy joined us. I’d really gotten the hang of it all, and some of the older women now acknowledged me and spoke to me in the kitchens. One even made an apron my size.
My favorite job was collecting eggs early in the morning. It was neat to stick my hand into the beds of straw in the hen house, wondering if my fingers would encounter a smooth shell.
McKale and I hadn’t spoken. Not really. When my parents invited him to eat meals with us I greeted him and kept my face expressionless. I had to look at him, otherwise my parents would get suspicious, but the moment his eyes began to plead with mine, I looked away. I was torn between being wary of getting closer to him, and wishing he would seek me out and bare his soul. This inner turmoil made me grumpy.
My parents weren’t dumb, and they knew me too well. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hide my mood. They planned picnics and walks for us as a family, attempting to cheer me or make me talk. Even when it was raining.
On the fifth day while thick clouds hovered above, we had a picnic dinner in a small flowery glen. Dad began walking around and pointing out different plants and herbs. He kept breaking off leaves and rubbing them between his fingers for us to smell. The fragrances were strong, spicy, and sweet. He peeled open a root of one and walked over to where I sat on the damp blanket. When he held it under my nose, an image of McKale’s shy smile came to mind. I closed my eyes.
“Licorice root,” Dad said. “You chew on it to extract the flavor. It’s too tough to eat.” Using a knife to cut off the outer layer, he handed me the bit of root like a candy stick. So this was what McKale often nibbled. When Dad turned around I tossed the thing away.
“It’s wonderful in tea,” Mom said, stretching out next to me.
“How do you know all of this?” Cassidy asked Dad.
“McKale’s been teaching me.”
My head snapped up. “He has? When?”
Dad plopped down next to me in the grass, not caring that it was wet. “We’ve taken a few walks together. He’s a smart boy. Has an eye for botany.”
It kind of warmed my heart that he’d been spending time with Dad. I pushed aside that nice thought and told myself not to care.
“I think it’s a shame that he sits all alone at meals,” Mom said. “Nobody pays him any mind.”
“Yes, it’s a shame,” Dad agreed. “I think bad habits have formed over the years, and it doesn’t help that McKale’s introverted. Somewhere along the line he closed himself off to relationships with the others, so he’s partially to blame for having no friends.”
“He does have a friend,” Cass said.
“Who? That Clourichaun boy?” Mom asked. “I imagine it’s not the same as having a close friend in his own clan, though. The Clour don’t share the same work ethic as the Chaun.”
“The Clour have responsibilities in their clan,” Cassidy said. “I mean, I assume they do, because otherwise how could they live. You know?”
“Doing the bare minimum to get by is a little different than having a hard-working, productive society,” Dad told her. “It may seem sexist the way the Chaun have rigid responsibilities for the men and women, but each individual’s role is important. Everyone benefits from one another’s hard work.”
Cassidy didn’t contradict or say anything else.
