She caught him in the schoolyard on Monday and dragged him by one ear out to the marshy part. She pinned him down and straddled his chest and tickled him with one hand so that he cried out and used the other hand to drum a finger across his lips, so that his cries came out “bibble.”Once he’d bucked her off, they kissed for a little while, then she grabbed hold of one of his nipples and twisted.“All right,” she said. “Enough torture. When do I get to meet your family?”“You can’t,” he said, writhing on the pine needles, which worked their way up the back of his shirt and pricked him across his lower back, feeling like the bristles of a hairbrush.“Oh, I can, and I will,” she said. She twisted harder.He slapped her hand away. “My family is really weird,” he said. “My parents don’t really ever go out. They’re not like other people. They don’t talk.” All of it true.“They’re mute?”“No, but they don’t talk.”“They don’t talk much, or they don’t talk at all?” She pronounced it a-tall.“Not at all.”“How did you and your brothers learn to talk, then?”“Neighbors.” Still true. The golems lived in the neighboring caves. “And my father, a little.” True.“So you have neighbors who visit you?” she asked, a triumphant gleam in her eye.Damn. “No, we visit them.” Lying now. Sweat on the shag of hair over his ears, which felt like they had coals pressed to them.“When you were a baby?”“No, my grandparents took care of me when I was a baby.” Deeper. “But they died.” Bottoming out now.“I don’t believe you,” she said, and he saw tears glisten in her eyes. “You’re too embarrassed to introduce me to your family.”“That’s not it.” He thought fast. “My brother. David. He’s not well. He has a brain tumor. We think he’ll probably die. That’s why he doesn’t come to school. And it makes him act funny. He hits people, says terrible things.” Mixing truth with lies was aloteasier. “He shouts and hurts people and he’s the reason I can’t ever have friends over. Not until he dies.”Her eyes narrowed. “If that’s a lie,” she said, “it’s a terrible one. My Ma died of cancer, and it’s not something anyone should make fun of. So, it better not be a lie.”“It’s not a lie,” he said, mustering a tear. “My brother David, we don’t know how long he’ll live, but it won’t be long. He acts like a monster, so it’s hard to love him, but we all try.”She rocked back onto her haunches. “It’s true, then?” she asked softly.He nodded miserably.“Let’s say no more about it, then,” she said. She took his hand and traced hieroglyphs on his palm with the ragged edges of her chewed-up fingernails.The recess bell rang and they headed back to school. They were about to leave the marshland when something hard hit Alan in the back of the head. He spun around and saw a small, sharp rock skitter into the grass, saw Davey’s face contorted with rage, lips pulled all the way back off his teeth, half-hidden in the boughs of a tree, winding up to throw another rock.He flinched away and the rock hit the paving hard enough to bounce. Marci whirled around, but David was gone, high up in the leaves, invisible, malicious, biding.“What was that?”“I dunno,” Alan lied, and groaned.
She caught him in the schoolyard on Monday and dragged him by one ear out to the marshy part. She pinned him down and straddled his chest and tickled him with one hand so that he cried out and used the other hand to drum a finger across his lips, so that his cries came out “bibble.”
Once he’d bucked her off, they kissed for a little while, then she grabbed hold of one of his nipples and twisted.
“All right,” she said. “Enough torture. When do I get to meet your family?”
“You can’t,” he said, writhing on the pine needles, which worked their way up the back of his shirt and pricked him across his lower back, feeling like the bristles of a hairbrush.
“Oh, I can, and I will,” she said. She twisted harder.
He slapped her hand away. “My family is really weird,” he said. “My parents don’t really ever go out. They’re not like other people. They don’t talk.” All of it true.
“They’re mute?”
“No, but they don’t talk.”
“They don’t talk much, or they don’t talk at all?” She pronounced it a-tall.
“Not at all.”
“How did you and your brothers learn to talk, then?”
“Neighbors.” Still true. The golems lived in the neighboring caves. “And my father, a little.” True.
“So you have neighbors who visit you?” she asked, a triumphant gleam in her eye.
Damn. “No, we visit them.” Lying now. Sweat on the shag of hair over his ears, which felt like they had coals pressed to them.
“When you were a baby?”
“No, my grandparents took care of me when I was a baby.” Deeper. “But they died.” Bottoming out now.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, and he saw tears glisten in her eyes. “You’re too embarrassed to introduce me to your family.”
“That’s not it.” He thought fast. “My brother. David. He’s not well. He has a brain tumor. We think he’ll probably die. That’s why he doesn’t come to school. And it makes him act funny. He hits people, says terrible things.” Mixing truth with lies was aloteasier. “He shouts and hurts people and he’s the reason I can’t ever have friends over. Not until he dies.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If that’s a lie,” she said, “it’s a terrible one. My Ma died of cancer, and it’s not something anyone should make fun of. So, it better not be a lie.”
“It’s not a lie,” he said, mustering a tear. “My brother David, we don’t know how long he’ll live, but it won’t be long. He acts like a monster, so it’s hard to love him, but we all try.”
She rocked back onto her haunches. “It’s true, then?” she asked softly.
He nodded miserably.
“Let’s say no more about it, then,” she said. She took his hand and traced hieroglyphs on his palm with the ragged edges of her chewed-up fingernails.
The recess bell rang and they headed back to school. They were about to leave the marshland when something hard hit Alan in the back of the head. He spun around and saw a small, sharp rock skitter into the grass, saw Davey’s face contorted with rage, lips pulled all the way back off his teeth, half-hidden in the boughs of a tree, winding up to throw another rock.
He flinched away and the rock hit the paving hard enough to bounce. Marci whirled around, but David was gone, high up in the leaves, invisible, malicious, biding.
“What was that?”
“I dunno,” Alan lied, and groaned.