Winter break was near. It was Wednesday, halfway through, and there was just one more day to go, but time felt like it was moving slower than a turtle going at a snail's pace. Recess. Winter recess. Emeral sat on one of the little picnic benches near the playground, freezing her fingers off.
Rini and a few of her group were sitting there as well. It was what they did when it was colder; sat on the benches and watched people, all the while tenderly cultivating the grapevine.
Emeral would rather recess was just skipped during winter. In the warmer seasons it was fun; nice and sunny and green. But now it was just bland, and the faux-snow was too thin to make anything but a small lump on the ground. She remembered going up north one winter, where the snow was so thick she had to practically climb out of a manhole to move around in it. Maybe it would snow this year, just maybe. It sure felt cold enough. She checked her phone; 36-degrees. They shouldn't even be outside in this weather!
"Hey! When did you get a cell-phone?"
It slipped out of her cold and numb fingers. "Hey! Give that back!"
Rini held it in her hand, fiddling with a few buttons. "Hee! I want one! Who's on it?" Beep-beep-beep...
"Said give it back!" Emeral lunged, but Bitty and Betty pushed her away, all giggling.
"Hang on I just wanna see... aww look, mom and dad. And Lyza. And..." She paused, a little confused.
Emeral's face went whiter. If she could go any more pale she could probably walk around naked and unnoticed in the white atmosphere.
"Who's...Ark?"
Thank goodness she had changed his name in her address book long ago! "He's...uh--"
"He?" Rini asked with a wry smile on her thinly rodent lips, "You have a boy's number on your phone?"
"So?" The tigress snapped, reaching for it again with failure. "Am I not allowed?"
Rini ignored her, and pushed something on the phone. There was a moment of silence, and then Emeral heard a gentle click come from the phone's speaker. Rini lifted it to her ear. "Hello? Who is this?"
"Who is this?" Came a woman's voice.
"My name is--hey!"
Ket's mom moved the phone from her ear as what sounded like a dozen flaming seagulls fighting over a loaf of bread screeched through the speaker. Amidst the cacophony, a familiar voice came through very orderly.
"Hello?"
"Um...hi?" Miss Rachaun spoke.
"Hi, sorry, this is Emmy--Rini. Shut up!--I'm sorry about this, some girls took my cell-phone. I promise it won't happen again, kay?"
"Okay...?" Ket's mom chuckled inwardly.
"Sorry again, bye--Rini I told yo--*..........."
"Emmy's got a boy-friend, Emmy's got a boy-friend..." The girls chanted.
Emeral picked up some of the fluff on the ground and threw it at them. They squealed and parted a little, and--black and white and red all-over--Emeral briskly walked from the playground to the courtyard, to escape the din of embarrassment. She went into the school library, where it was quiet and where no one would dare follow her if they were sane.
The library was small and cozy. It had dingy-green carpeting that used to be bright, and walls painted brown to make it look wooden. The low ceiling was painted light blue. It was supposed to give you the feeling of being outside in some kind of happy forest, but it had lost that ambiance after the first year of its creation. But with a little imagination one could bring it back to life.
She hid in the back corner, and listened to the librarian reading to a class of little duckling-kinders. She remembered that year, of when the entire class was one animal, or as close to that as they could get. She remembered seeing another white tiger, but that boy moved away after that year.
The bell rang. Six minutes was not enough recovery time, but it would have to do. With any luck, she wouldn't have to deal with it in the classroom. She passed through the door, one of the first kids in the room, and took her seat in the middle of the squareish semi-circle surrounding the blackboard. She missed sitting by Ket and Lyza, but her dyslexia didn't bother her as much now that the words weren't all skewed while the teacher wrote them.
The rest of the day dragged on and on, but at last the bell rang and she was in the halls. She didn't hurry at all, it was not part of her routine. She had to wait for the buses to leave, so she crawled along, one shoulder against the rumple-textured bricks. She wasn't exactly watching where she was going, and bumped into someone.
"Sorry," she apologized, and then immediately regretted it.
Ritzer smiled, peach-fuzz around his neck. "'Ey Emeral."
"What do you want?"
He leaned against the wall. "I heard from a few li'l birds," his smile dropped abruptly, "that you gots a boyfriend."
Emeral tried not to change her expression visibly. "I heard you have only one ball." She replied boldly.
"So feisty," he said, "I love dat inna girl. Well listen, I hafta catch a bus'nd maybe tomorrow you'll tell me who dat boy a'yours is…'nd I'll make sure to," teeth, "...congradg’layt him."
Emeral felt his hand place firmly upon her chest, and then gently move across and peel away as he left. She stood there in the hall, the hubbub still passing her, hardly anyone noticing that little conversation--especially not the teachers. Five minutes later, the buses pitched and puffed steam--farted, as the kids so eloquently put it--and scuttled on out of the parking lot to take their stomach-fulls of children and belch them out a few at a time closer to home.
Emeral started walking, and soon after she passed the Teacher's Parking sign, a boy nonchalantly began walking in pace with her, as if they had been walking side by side the whole time.
Ket seemed in a chipper mood. He was a boy who liked the cold. He had on a light winter jacket but that was it; not even a layer underneath his blue-jeans. Even with a jacket on, it was open and therefore pointless. His face and head were completely exposed, a constant stream of visible breath emanating from nostrils. The only sign of discomfort were his hands shoved into his pockets.
He walked so upright, his shoulders so square like he was on top of the world, confident and everything ever-ever; when Emeral knew what exactly he was deep down inside. He looked so arrogant, so snooty, so aloof, so haughty, so toady, so...so...
"You're gonna catch cold ya know." Emeral said flatly.
"I thought you didn't catch a cold just from being cold? Doesn't it have to be raining?"
So presumptuous. "I don't care. You'll still catch one if you don't keep warm."
"I'm warm," he replied lightly, "But seems like you're a little cold; what's biting you?"
"It's nothing," but the terseness of her voice could not pass his notice.
"Come on, you can tell me. It's what friends are for right?"
"You just want to know." Even as she said it, she thought it was a little too bitter. Oh well, can't change the past.
"Sorry," he replied softly, "Just trying to help."
She stopped, and immediately he did as well. His eyes were on her, concerned. "Ritzer likes me." She said quietly.
"He...does?"
She looked at him sideways, "You mean you didn't know?"
He shook his head.
"Tsh," she shook hers as well, and started walking again as she waved a hand, "The Great Arkethius is finally ignorant of something." She clapped stiffly, mockingly.
"Well, I can't notice everything."
"How could you not notice that? It's been going on since the beginning of the year!"
"I dunno," he shrugged, "Ritzer's just really good about hiding his agendas from me."
"Is that your excuse?" By now, she had already crossed the line she had just stepped on a moment ago. "You're hardly ever around outside, where he is. You know he still bullies kids? I thought you made a deal with him. Whatever happened to that, huh?"
"Well," he said calmly, sensing the hostility, "I can't be everywhere at once--"
"But that's the problem; you're nowhere. All the time." She glared straight forward, "Maybe if you'd hang around me a little more at school you'd at least notice something. Or better yet that might discourage him from doing what he does." Her voice dropped, "But I guess that's a little too much to ask."
"What exactly does he do?"
It was like he had no concern, his voice so calm and complacent. She spat. "Oh boy where to start? He's hugged me, bumped me, started telling me he likes me more and more--almost every day now. Sometimes he touches my tummy and my shoulders, and once he even tried to kiss me." She spat again. "But don't worry about it," she continued bitterly, "It's not like you care or anything. Just go on not-noticing it."
"Wait," he stopped, his voice finally taking some color. "That's not right."
Durr.
"Haven't you told Ms. Hupp about it? Or a counselor? I'm sure Mrs. Oulryk--"
"No way, are you crazy!?" She threw her hands up. "That'd make things even worse!"
"Well then, what are you gonna do about it?"
"What am I gonna do about?" She laughed, and then pointed at him, "What are you gonna do about it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know a secret," she pushed the finger against his stomach, softening the tone that had laced her voice, "Tell me what it is."
"I can't do that," he replied, moving her hand away.
"Why not?" She stamped her foot.
"It would make things worse."
"No it wouldn't. I could hold it over his head, get him to back off like you did."
"It doesn't work like that Emeral," he replied shaking his head, "If I tell you, then you tell him you know, he'll know we're at least friends and then you'll be a big target."
"You're just afraid." She said, cutting into his masculinity.
His eyes widened; he had no response.
"Fine," she waved a hand decisively, "I knew I should have never mentioned it in the first place." She started to walk away.
"That doesn't mean I can't help," he followed.
"You can't. So just leave it alone. I'll walk myself home, thank you."
"Emeral, hang on," he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"What is it with you and Ritzer?" She snapped, turning around on her heel and knocking his hand away, "Don't touch me. Leave me alone."
"But Em--"
"I said leave me alone!"
She turned and started running.
Ket felt cemented--what just happened? What'd he do wrong? The question floated on his mind for just a second before he decided to chase after--he had to make things right. "Emeral wait!"
"Get away!"
"I just want to talk for a second!" He gained easily, "Please just listen," he reached out to her shoulder again.
She stopped, and felt his hand squeeze gently as he gathered his breath.
"Emeral I--"
"I don't want to listen to anything you have to say!" She whipped around, the motion catching Ket by surprise. She took his wrist and arm, and whipped him around so that he was facing the other way. That was when she spoke her statement, and that was when she placed a hand firmly on his back and pushed him forward.
He took one step, his center of gravity moving too quickly for him to compensate. After the first, step his next was slightly light as it made contact with the ground and his balance shifted for a third step. But he did not stop there--his foot slid underneath him, and his backpack prevented him from regaining his balance. He fell straight down, face colliding with the rough, cold-hardened cement.
Emeral stood frozen from cold, fear and shock, able only to watch.
He did not stay down for more than a heartbeat. His head rose off the ground, and he spat into the flurry. Then he rested on his knees, and she could only focus on the stripe-pattern on the back of his head. He took only a second to adjust his backpack, and then he rose fully to his feet; his knees shook just a little as they came taught.
There was a dime-sized pink spot in the snow, where he'd spat. His hand rose to his face. He appeared to look at his fingers, and then wiped them together.
Emeral made the softest of noises, an entire question that only came out in a single "Nh...?"
"I'm all right," he said quietly, adjusting his backpack again, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Before he could do anything she moved around him, and only managed to stare for two seconds before having to look down. "Oh god!" She took his hand, "Cover it up! Stop it from bleeding!" She looked back, and he had his hand pressed against the side of his face, "Keep it there!"
She gripped his other hand, and started to run, but he didn't follow at first. She tugged him, and like a dumb mule he started to move. She tried to go fast but was forced to walk an agonizingly slow pace; she tried to tell herself it was better, keep him--keep her--calm.
Six lung-stinging minutes later, they arrived at the gate. Still holding his hand with her right, her left hand went to the keypad. Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-ERRR! She slammed her fist on the console. Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-ERRR! She yelled angrily, slamming her fist against it thrice. At last, she realized she was entering the old code in, and entered the new. It tweeted its appraisal and the gate began to open. Even as it did she was squeezing through the pencil-thin rift.
She looked back at Ket for just a moment, only to see blood oozing out from under his palm. "Press harder!" She commanded. The eye that stared back half-blinked in response. She led him to the door and reluctantly let go of his hand. Her backpack fell and she zipped open the outer pocket, pulling out her little purse. She opened it, fishing for the key but couldn't find it. Tissues--could have used those earlier—chap-stick, brush...
She cussed under her breath, began taking things out and letting them to the ground. At last she found her key, and fumbled with shivering hands to get it in the door. She dropped the key, cussed again more audibly, and then managed to coax the lock.
The warm rush of air as she opened the door was no respite for her. She quickly disarmed their new squealing alarm system and helped Ket into the kitchen. "Sit," she commanded, moving a chair for him, "Keep your hand there."
He sat wordlessly as she darted into the little bathroom. The noises that came from therein were chaotic; things were flung open and some objects clattered to the floor as she desperately took what she needed. She emerged, carrying several things in her arms, and still those items tumbled on the ground as she tried to set them all down at once from too high.
She leaned down and picked up the gauze, opening the plastic bag from the side despite the zip-loc seal at the top. She pulled a few of the pads out, setting them atop the bag, and began wiping the drying blood that wept from under his palm. "Does it hurt bad?"
"I'm fine." He replied tonelessly.
Of course he wasn't fine. She ripped off a few contiguous sheets of paper-towel and set it on the floor. "Move your hand a little."
He proceeded to peel it away, and as he did a dammed streak of blood fell down his cheek. Strings of the semi-congealed liquid trailed from his fingertips to his face.
"I said just a little!" She hissed, moving quickly to stop the blood from reaching his collar.
His hand returned, muttering an apology.
With a wavering breath she managed a reply, and used pad after pad of gauze to wipe away the excessive red. "Where is it?"
"Under my eye...kind of on the side too."
"You can pull your hand away now," she said as she held a pad against his cheek at the ready.
He did, resting the back of his hand on his leg, balling a fist so that he didn't get blood anywhere. His right eye was closed at first, but as she dabbed away he opened it, watching her, engrossed in her task. "Is it bleeding too much?"
"No, face bleeds more freely for some reason," she said. "I've got most of it," she reassured, setting a seventh pad of gauze onto the paper towel. "Now's the hard part..." She reached for the bottle of isoproptol, and wetted another gauze-pad. "One, two, three..." She placed it against the pink, weeping wound, cringing with regret.
His face didn't change at all.
"You don't have to pretend like it doesn't hurt."
"I'm not afraid," he said, through gritted teeth.
At last she peeled it away, and the residual sting began to fade. She retrieved a little plastic tube and a Q-tip. Rolling some of the ointment on the end, she brushed it like an artist across the wound, which still threatened to bleed. Then she retrieved a box of plain band-aids, ripped one out, and affixed it to him with a practiced precision. Once complete, she observed him for a few seconds, and then tore another sheet of paper towel from the roll. She took one last pad of gauze, dipped it in the alcohol, and coaxed his fist to uncurl. Once it was cleaned, she sandwiched everything together, and went to the sink.
"Thank you," Ket said as she opened the cabinet and tossed the article into the trash.
She stood for a moment, then slammed the cabinet shut. "Don't thank me." She said darkly during the loud bang.
"Why not? You did a good job patching me up."
She turned and slid down to a seating position, hugging her knees.
"Well...if I can't thank you, then what am I supposed to do?"
"I dunno," she shouted sourly into her knees, "Be angry. Yell. Shout. Throw things. Break something. I don't care." After a while of silence, her shoulders began to pulse rhythmically with her sobs.
He stood up, and walked over to sit beside her.
She huddled further, burying her nose and eyes, silently weeping.
"Let's say I did get angry. Yelled, shouted, threw things, broke stuff. How would you feel?"
"...Afraid." She said softly.
"I think I would too." He sat Indian-style. "Can I put my arm around you?"
Whether he meant it to or not, that bit her heart badly. "Do whatever you want." She said through sniffles. So she felt his arm drape over her, and massage her far shoulder.
"I don't like fighting Emeral. There's no point in me getting angry, all it'll do is just hurt you, too." He took a breath. A bit of silence to quell the tides, a bit of rubbing to quell the tears. When she was silent for a little bit, he spoke again, very softly, "I'm going too slow aren't I?"
"What do you mean?" She asked after a second, glancing at him out of the side of her eye.
"I mean...I've noticed you getting a little frustrated lately. Like you want to move on to being boyfriend-girlfriend and I'm standing in your way."
"Shut up!" She shouted, standing up and pacing for a moment, then she slowed. A hand reflexively rose to her head, fingers latching onto her forehead and massaging her scalp like a needy parasite.
"It's okay."
"No it's not." She protested, "It's stupid. I told you to take your time, if I'm getting impatient it's my fault and I have to deal with it. I'll be fine. I just..." She bit her lower lip and inclined her head, and then gazed at him sideways. "I just need to know you won't change yourself or rush things now because I was being an idiot...if you even like me at all still." She managed to stop and gaze at him. "Promise me?"
They locked eyes for a long moment, and just as he was about to speak, the phone chirped, causing them both to jump.
Emeral rushed to it, and looked at the screen. "It's...your mom," she said, beckoning him with her hand. She picked the phone up and handed it to him.
"Hey, mom?" He listened for a moment, "Yeah, you caught me in time. I was just about to--" More listening, and then, though it didn't move in any way, his expression changed. "...Now? I was about to--" His face deepened into another expression, one that bothered Emeral down to the core. "Okay...okay. Bye." His hand moved slowly as he reset the phone back onto its perch, and stared at it with the most dreadful expression Emeral had ever seen: droopy eyes, open mouth, taught brow. It was like his mom told him he was going to die in seven days. The orange screen on the phone winked away.
"Ket...what's wrong?"
He blinked, as if pulled from a trance. He moved his head, but it was a very forced movement, and smiled, but it was a very forced smile. "Nothin'," he said cheerfully, but it was a very forced cheer. "Listen, I'd love to stay and eat Insta-Mac or something but...I need to get home, okay?"
They started heading to the door. "Oh...okay, but...you still have to promise me..."
"Oh, right. No, I won't." he replied.
"What...?" She hesitated opening the door, her words trembling with dread "Does that mean...you don't like me anymore?"
"I can't explain now," he replied, urgency in his voice, "I wish I had time, but..." He reached for the handle and opened the door over her hand, "I'll uh..." he paused, that expression on his face again, like he was momentarily put on pause by some alien remote-control. He returned to normal. "I'll call your cell later tonight, okay?"
"...Okay..." Whatever this was, she didn't feel comfortable at all. Did the mothership blow up?
He flashed her another forced smile, and then said goodbye.
She stood at the door, watching his behavior as he jogged to the gate and punched in the code--the code she realized she never told him, and must have seen her do for the first time maybe ten minutes ago. Before he passed through the gate, he turned around just enough to give a quick spread of the far-hand in a final goodbye wave, and then he crossed the gate's threshold. She stepped outside, and it was very strange; right before he was out of sight, he went straight from a walk to a full-on sprint.
The air finally got to her, and she had to move back into the sanctity of the house. She shut the door, but couldn't bring it all the way to a close. She watched as the gate whirred to life again, and slowly but surely shut with a clang and rattle. Yet she still could barely bring herself to shut the door. Deep inside, a voice which was far too loudly spoken, told her that she may have just seen him walk through that gate for the very last time.
