Chris
The new thing around here was mime basketball.
That's because authentic, home-made basketball was no longer a possibility. Turns out, papayas didn't bounce worth shit.
Mime b-ball was a little game Lou and I used to play in the school hallways; at the dinner table; wherever we didn't have access to a real ball. It was more fun banter than competitive play, obviously, and when Lou claimed to have blocked my chicly side-layup, I could call goal-tending, argue like a red card recipient, and then wiggle my way out of a technical.
It was all good fun. That is, until Lou had this Class A idea that half-assed sports were to be used as a pastime in the background of trivial conversation.
"How d'you know her?" Lou asked curiously, miming a crossover and taking the ball to the hoop (a woven basket we'd hung from the roof of our hut). I played shadow-defense, stepping in and stealing the ball. "Not fair," he whined.
"Know who?" I asked.
Eddie approached our makeshift court, and his face contorted in confusion. "What're you guys doing?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"It's called having fun," I said. "Try it sometime."
Eddie pressed his lips together and shook his head of curly hair, getting that feigned look of adult-like sincerity. I wanted to laugh. "You blind, Mahoney? You're not even holding anything."
A grin curled up my face. Looking up towards the hoop, I let the ball fly, suspending my shooting arm in the air. Swish. "Use your imagination, Ed."
Ed's hands shifted to his hips, and he spat at the ground, releasing a ball of saliva onto the stone. "Well hopefully you don't think I'm pretending when I say your girlfriend's getting better."
That caught me off-guard, and my eyes snapped to Eddie's parental stance, his hip cocked out to one side. "Huh?" I asked, mouth agape as Lou plowed me over from behind. We both stumbled, and Lou broke away with a "and Emerson's on the run...", desperate to keep my attention.
I didn't follow. "What'd you say?" I asked Eddie, intently meeting his eye.
"Alaska's fever's going down," he said.
I tousled the back of my hair, face changing at the mention of Laska's name. "Going down? I mean--" I scrunched my nose. "--how much down exactly?"
Eddie rolled his eyes, methodically rubbing his hands over his face. "I don't know, a few degrees," he relented, and suddenly I realized how tired he looked. Sleep lines were written across his weary-eyed expression. I took the neck of my shirt and wiped the sweat from my face.
"Well--" I started, but couldn't find a way to finish, brown eyes flitting around dumbly. I rubbed my neck, palm feeling like it'd been set to flame. "That's good," I stated, breaths heavy and not just because I'd played forty-five minutes of a basketball game. The thought of her being better was overwhelming for some reason; and in the best possible way. My heart felt flighty and I stuttered with anticipation when I talked. "Can I go see her?" I took one look at Eddie, who looked appalled at my question. "Christ!" I exclaimed, eyebrows arching, "I don't need your permission. Yo, Gehrig! I gotta--"
"See your girlfriend?" Lou asked, looking pissed, muscled forearms crossed over his chest. His lips were all pursed like my mom's used to be when I came home late at night.
"Yeah," I told him, and knocked him on his bare shoulder with an open fist. "Sorry. See you later, loser."
Then I jogged away with long-legged strides, Lou calling after me, "You never answered my question, jackass!" I had no clue what he was going on about. I ignored him as I ducked into the Med Tent, shadows immediately drawing a curtain over the world.
I entered out of breath and with a goofy smile. Laska was sitting up on her cot, back propped against the wall. Her knees were curled to her chest; I could make out the soft curve of her kneecap. Her eyes were less pale, and she'd changed into a different outfit. Her cheeks were still flushed and overheated, but she greeted me with an endearing grin. "Special delivery," I announced, knocking on the doorframe.
"Hm," Laska mumbled, as if in thought, "What did I order?"
"Well, let's see what we have." I trailed off and pretended to read the front of my shirt. "The label says 'hot basketball burnout with nice hair'? That yours?"
She bit her lip to hold back a giggle. "Gorgeous hair," she corrected.
I shrugged without expression, letting go of my shirt. "Someone must've got it wrong. Anyway, ETA's about..." I glanced down at my watch-less wrist. "Five seconds from now?"
"Can I get him faster?" she asked playfully, eyes getting big.
I walked to her bedside and rested my hands on the edge of her cot. "Only if you sign here," I told her, putting a finger to my lips. She rose her hand and toyed with the back of my hair. Then she kissed me, smiling into my lips. She pulled away quicker than I would've liked.
She looked into my eyes. "Hey cutie," she said, her nose brushing against mine.
"Hi," I replied, tracing the bow of her lips.
"You're funny," she said.
"Funny-looking?"
"Just funny," she said. "Your nose is bumpy, though."
My eyebrows jumped at the opportunity to tell a story about a bone I'd broken. "I broke it twice," I told her. "Once was in this football game against St. Ives, and there was this burly defensive tackle named Rosenberg who--" I recounted the experience--one I'd recounted so many times before--in detail with the support of necessary hand gestures.
When I was finished, Laska broke out in laughter. "What?" I asked her. "It was an illegal tackle."
"You already told me the whole story," she said. At this, my cheek crinkled in resentment, flashing my dimple.
"Well, it's good every time," I argued weakly.
"C'mere," she prodded, so I settled down next to her on the cot, the right side of my body plastered to the left side of hers. She rose her hands above her head and stretched, shirt coming up to expose her stomach as she raked a hand through her curls. Her legs unfurled until her toes reached the end of the bed.
"Ed told me you were better," I said, laying my head back against the wall as I stared at her.
"I'm feeling a little better," she admitted. She took my hand in hers, running her finger over the contours of my palm. "But still hot." She grimaced, holding her hair off of her neck.
"Uh-huh," I replied, eyes on her. I pushed my tongue into my cheek.
She shoved me with surprising strength. "So I heard there's this guy who pretends to objectify women but is actually really sweet," she joked. "What was his name?" She put a hand to her chin, thinking. "Bologna or something?"
Rolling my eyes, I said, "Okay, Dalbert."
Her mouth fell open, and she smacked me gently on the chest. "You heard that conversation?"
"It's a good name," I said, nodding, holding back a smile. "For a linebacker, maybe. Dalbert Buttkiss Mendenhall Jr."
"Dalbert Faleb Rein, you idiot." I covered my mouth to hide my laughter, and she pinched my bicep until I muttered a quiet ouch and wrenched my arm away. "Stop teasing me, will you?" She was giggling.
"I can tease you all I want," I asserted, quirking an eyebrow.
"That so?" she asked, and I ducked in for a kiss. She kissed me back, mouth heating up on mine. Soon she was on my lap, and her hands were tugging at the hem of my shirt. Just then, the tent flap was pulled away, light flooding into the room. Standing at the entrance was a girl--a girl who I quickly recognized to be Blue.
When she saw us, the blood rose in her cheeks, blue eyes widening. I regretfully pulled back from Laska and cleared my throat. There was an awkward silence during which Blue collected herself and Laska assumed a different position. I caught her sending a quick glare in Blue's direction. "What's up?" I asked Blue. Too impatiently.
She stammered a little. "Um, you're Chris, aren't you?" Her accent startled me; I had forgotten it.
"Yeah," I said. What the hell happened to her memory?
"Lou sent me to get you," she said, a little bit desperately, as if there was some kind of dire situation at hand. I could feel a tinge of worry rise inside of me.
"What for?" I asked.
"There're people here," she told me, brown hair tangled behind her ears. She swallowed. "And they told us they needed to talk to our leader."
My brow furrowed. "People? What people?"
"I don't know," she stressed. "I don't know who they are." She ran a hand through her hair, avoiding my eyes. "But it seems dangerous, and kind of time-sensitive...?"
I stood up, and was about to go with her.
"Chris," Laska spoke up from behind me.
I looked over my shoulder; her lips were full and her cheeks were dark, eyes pleading for me to stay. A hint of her fever squinted through her expression. She was still stick. She wanted me with her.
"I'll be right back," I told her. "Don't move a muscle, you hear me?" I pointed at her. Before she could respond, I stepped out of the tent. The sky was getting dark, and the torches we'd erected around the village had already been lit. The air around us was tense, and the village looked almost empty. I was confused. Where is everybody?
I was about to ask Blue, until I was led around the backside of Lou's and my house. Except for a man sitting patiently on the edge of the fire pit, the clearing was empty. The man sat straight-backed with his hands clasped together. He wore an off-white button down and khakis that, from the looks of them, hadn't been ironed."Who the hell is that?" I whispered to Blue. "Where's Lou?"
"He said he wanted to talk to you alone," Blue told me urgently.
"I don't care what he wants. Who is he?" I was rubbing my hand over my stomach, eyes darting between Blue and the lonely man perching stoically on the edge of the fire pit.
"You have to talk to him, Chris," she said. And with that, she left, scurrying away. I was completely bewildered, standing between my house and a strange guy with no apparent name or origin. But somehow, my legs carried me over to him.
Immediately, when I arrived, the man stood to his feet. "You must be Chris," he said, holding out his hand to shake. Up close, he had a more distinctive look; his features were dark and his skin had an olive tint to it. His eyes were almost shadow-like.
"That's me," I affirmed, shaking his hand briefly. "Where is everybody?"
"In their houses, Chris. I figured we'd be better off if we had some space to talk alone."
"Who the hell are you?" I asked.
"My name isn't important," he told me, shaking his head. "But I must warn you--there are gunmen stationed around your camp, ready to shoot at my command. So if you try anything dangerous, I'll be forced to alert them." He had a rational tone to his voice, and nodded at every word, like all that he said was something he hated to break to me.
"Bullshit," I tried, only after I took a glance around.
The man laughed softly. I heard something click in the distance, and a breeze swept over me. I didn't say anything else to challenge his honesty.
"I don't know if your friends told you, but we--my people and I--came to your camp about ten minutes ago. Our meeting has been a long time coming, I assure you." The man looked at me, searching my eyes. "They told us that you were their leader," he asserted. He kind of smiled, as if he wasn't sure that I knew what was going on. He was right; I was a confused mess. "Is that true?"
"Yeah," I said confidently, though I wasn't sure.
"Interesting," he mused, still looking into my eyes.
"How's that?" I questioned, frustrated. The man shook his head and waved his hand, like it was nothing. "Why're you here?" I asked, raising my voice. "Who the hell are you?"
"Lower your voice, Chris," he said. He already had an advantage over me; he knew my name and I didn't know his. "Your questions will be answered in due time. But first, I need something from you."
"Oh yeah?" I asked, not keen to meet any demands he might've had. "What's that?"
"See," the man began, "most of my people have lived on this island for their entire lives. I, myself, have spent my childhood on the island. You and your friends? You just got here. You've been living here for over a month. We've watched you. Observed you from afar. But finally we realize that your mere existence here threatens our way of life." The man strode to the other side of the fire pit, breaking eye contact for the first time. He prodded the wood with a stick. Indigenous people? I thought, head spinning with questions. People that live on the island? How haven't we found them yet? Does Blue's daddy know?
The man continued. "We aren't savages, Chris, regardless of what you may come to think of us. Our first objective isn't to kill you all." The man looked at me and laughed, exposing a set of plastic-looking teeth. "That, if anything, would be a measure of last resort." The man put a hand on my shoulder. I flinched; his hand was cold. "And we're going to let you stay here, Chris. All of you. But we're going to need something in return."
Stay here. A sardonic smirk grew on my face. I laughed, pinching the bridge of my nose. The last thing I want to do is stay here.
When the man didn't flinch, my mouth settled back into a frown, and my brow furrowed. "Something like what?"
"A person," the man said to me, nodding. "A sacrifice to my people."
A chill ran up my spine. My heart jumped into my throat. I put my hands on my hips, glancing around the seemingly vacant village. The torches flickered.
"And what if we don't comply?" I asked, the word comply sounding strange on my tongue. It was too fancy. Didn't belong in my mouth.
The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Then I'm afraid we'd have to fallback on our measure of last resort."
I suddenly felt the quiet night ticking around me, the crickets like the downwards winding heartbeat of someone who knew they were about to die. That's what the forest was; a fresh corpse laying in its island coffin. The darkness was black. The man's face was like a neon road sign illuminated by the nearest torch. Eyes wide, expression sympathetic. Like killing us wouldn't be his choice.
"Okay," I told him, sizing him up. "Take me, then."
The man laughed pompously. I wanted to punch him out.
"Oh, no," he said, "We won't be taking just anyone."
Bemusement passing over my face, I asked, "Well who do you want?"
The man loosened his fist and let the stick fall into the pile of firewood and char. A bad feeling stirred in my chest. He sat back down on the edge of the fire pit. Then he looked at me.
"Chris, we're going to have to take the baby."
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