Raging Star
Page 26
What’s all this in aid of? I says. What’s got Em in such a fizz?
Ah, there you are! Lugh turns quickly. It’s a birthday party. Molly pulled it together. Ain’t she a wonder?
Molly’s birthday? I says.
No, stupid, Emmi’s. She’s ten.
What? I says. Today?
Last month, he says. You fergot, bad sister.
Ten, I says, good grief. Anyways, bad brother, you fergot too. Why didn’t you come git me? You got grease on yer face.
You needed to sleep. He swipes with his sleeve an inspects me, narrow-eyed. I see you didn’t, he says. Yer startin to give old Peg the Flight some serious competition in the ugly bag stakes. All tired an wrinkly an big dark circles—
I slap his arm. I am not wrinkly, you—
He plugs my mouth with a wodge of cake. You what? He blinks blue-eyed innocence at me as he nibbles on a lilybulb. Sorry, cain’t hear you.
Saba, hey Saba! Emmi comes runnin. She pulls at my hands, hoppin an turnin me in circles. She gabbles full tilt, while I choke down the cake. Molly gimme a comb fer my hair—her very own favourite comb—an she says if I use it twice a day it’ll make my hair grow beautiful jest like hers. I cain’t wait, I already bin combin, can you tell? An Creed—guess what? He ate fire, he truly did, you should of seen! An then he pulled a button from my ear by magic. Here it is, look, he said it’s mine to keep. An Ash gimme a gizmo knife an Slim gimme this special medicine necklace to stop the rickets an—
Rheumatics, not rickets, says Lugh.
I should know, it’s my necklace, an it’s rickets, she says. An Mercy says she’ll make me a new shirt jest as soon as she finds one to cut down an we’re gonna have dancin in a bit an—
Emmi! Tommo calls. C’mere!
She dashes off agin an me an Lugh follow. She stands in front of Tommo, her eyes shinin. He puts his empty eat tin on the ground. Creed an Peg stop playin to watch.
Keep still, Tommo tells her. Hands out. Eyes shut.
She squeezes ’em tight an stretches her arms straight in front of her. He reaches behind him. He brings out the dainty little birdcage with the tiny metal finch that sings. He places it gently in her hands.
Open, he says.
She opens her eyes. A gasp of wonder. Joy lights her face. Fer a second. A breath. Then it darkens to shocked dismay.
There’s puzzlement all around. Raised eyebrows an baffled smiles. The cage is a rarely fine object. The best Tommo’s got in his trade bag is a buckle.
That’s quite the present, I says. It must of cost dear. What did you take fer it, Peg?
She waggles her head an shakes her bow. Never you mind, she says. The boy offered, I took, it’s business, our business, his an mine, Miss Nosy Poke, not yers.
Tommo, you didn’t. Emmi breathes the words in disbelief. It’s clear she knows full well what he’s traded. An she don’t like it, not one little bit. An Tommo don’t like her reaction. He scowls darkly. His cheeks flush.
No, says Emmi. You cain’t.
C’mon, says Ash. What is it?
Tommo’s glarin at Emmi. She glares back at him, her face scrinched with fury. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence. I notice Nero makin free with the food table.
At last Mercy says, When somebody gifts you, Emmi, it’s only good manners to accept with thanks.
Thank you, she says flatly. It’s the best present I’ll ever have.
No kiss, no hug, not even a smile. Fer the best present she’ll ever have. Then Peg swings into a sweet old waltz an the strange moment breaks. Mercy starts collectin the eatin tins. Molly pounces on Nero to rescue the food. As she scolds him fer a thief, she feeds him tidbits.
Lugh says to me, What was that about? An how did he manage it? Tommo ain’t got nuthin.
I know, I says. I ain’t got the faintest idea.
Ash saves Tommo from his humiliation. She grabs him to show him how to waltz an then he’s busy dodgin her clod-hoppin boots, countin one-two-three over an over. With a courtly bow, Slim bids Emmi to dance. Despitin his bulk, he glides her around in elegant twirls an swoops. Emmi makes a big show of ignorin Tommo. Her pleasure in her first ever party is gone.
Did you speak to her like we talked about? I says to Lugh.
He grimaces. Sorry, I fergot. But, c’mon, let her be. Now ain’t the time.
Now’s jest the time, I says. I’ll do it—don’t worry, I’ll be nice to her—but you owe me. We cain’t be th’only ones don’t gift her. Go rustle somethin up.
Where from? he says.
I dunno, look around, ask Peg, I says. We’re in a junkyard, fergawdsake. I managed to find you that necklace in a landfill an I’d say it’s pretty fine.
He grabs hold of it. The little green glass circle on a leather string that I gave him fer our last birthday. Eighteen year. He gives me a hopeful look as he says, Maybe I could—
You are not givin that to her, I says. Ungrateful swine. An don’t go givin her yer spare bootlaces neether.
He wanders off an I ain’t surprised to see him peer hopefully into a filthy old barrel. Like a birthday gift fer a ten-year-old girl might be found in such a place. It’ll fall to me to sort out but I’ll make him sweat a bit first.
I catch Creed’s attention an give him the nod. It’s jest gone dark outside. Time fer him to join Tracker on patrol duty. As he sets aside his squeezbox an heads my way, Peg rackets into a lively reel. She saws at the strings, stompin time on a board with gusto. Poor Slim lets out a pained wail. Lugh takes pity on him an Em shrieks with startled delight as he grabs her an starts reelin her about the room. Good man, big brother. Slim staggers to a stool to mop his brow.
Creed’s got me in his sights. His chin’s set determined, like a man on a mission. I think him an me’s about to have further words, probly on the subject of my character flaws. My body twitches to flee, but I stand my ground. I’ll hafta put him off. I gotta leave to meet Jack at Weepin Water.
Molly’s foot taps time as she helps Mercy clear the table. Creed passes by them an she touches his hand. She don’t look at him. It’s the briefest of touches an the light ain’t good, but I know I didn’t imagine it. An she was the one to reach. She was the one to touch. In the gloom, she must of thought she wouldn’t be seen.
Creed looks dazed. Like from a knockout punch, jest before you hit the ground. He walks straight past me. I stare at Molly. She smiles an chats to Mercy as they work. She makes like she cain’t abide him. Well. She did say it herself.
Life ain’t black an white. People ain’t neether. Family, friends, lovers. The longer I live, the more that I see, the less I know fer sure. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.
So many secrets. Emmi an Tommo an now Molly an Creed. What else don’t I know about? Far too much, I fear.
Emmi! I wave at her, shoutin over the fidget of Peg’s fiddle. C’mere!
Molly, calls Lugh. We’re two down. Help us out.
This tame old jig? She shrugs. Why not? With a swish of red petticoat, she sashays over an he swings her into a dizzy whirl.
Emmi snails her way to me, in sullen obedience. What? she says.
Don’t you what me, Miss Ten Year Old. C’mon, I says, you can help me saddle Hermes.
Hermes whinnies when he sees me carryin his reed mat an bridle. The wind hurries thin shreds of cloud across the sky. They shine whitely aginst the blue black of early night. The weather’s changed. Feels like it’s gonna be a cold one.
Ah, there you are! Lugh turns quickly. It’s a birthday party. Molly pulled it together. Ain’t she a wonder?
Molly’s birthday? I says.
No, stupid, Emmi’s. She’s ten.
What? I says. Today?
Last month, he says. You fergot, bad sister.
Ten, I says, good grief. Anyways, bad brother, you fergot too. Why didn’t you come git me? You got grease on yer face.
You needed to sleep. He swipes with his sleeve an inspects me, narrow-eyed. I see you didn’t, he says. Yer startin to give old Peg the Flight some serious competition in the ugly bag stakes. All tired an wrinkly an big dark circles—
I slap his arm. I am not wrinkly, you—
He plugs my mouth with a wodge of cake. You what? He blinks blue-eyed innocence at me as he nibbles on a lilybulb. Sorry, cain’t hear you.
Saba, hey Saba! Emmi comes runnin. She pulls at my hands, hoppin an turnin me in circles. She gabbles full tilt, while I choke down the cake. Molly gimme a comb fer my hair—her very own favourite comb—an she says if I use it twice a day it’ll make my hair grow beautiful jest like hers. I cain’t wait, I already bin combin, can you tell? An Creed—guess what? He ate fire, he truly did, you should of seen! An then he pulled a button from my ear by magic. Here it is, look, he said it’s mine to keep. An Ash gimme a gizmo knife an Slim gimme this special medicine necklace to stop the rickets an—
Rheumatics, not rickets, says Lugh.
I should know, it’s my necklace, an it’s rickets, she says. An Mercy says she’ll make me a new shirt jest as soon as she finds one to cut down an we’re gonna have dancin in a bit an—
Emmi! Tommo calls. C’mere!
She dashes off agin an me an Lugh follow. She stands in front of Tommo, her eyes shinin. He puts his empty eat tin on the ground. Creed an Peg stop playin to watch.
Keep still, Tommo tells her. Hands out. Eyes shut.
She squeezes ’em tight an stretches her arms straight in front of her. He reaches behind him. He brings out the dainty little birdcage with the tiny metal finch that sings. He places it gently in her hands.
Open, he says.
She opens her eyes. A gasp of wonder. Joy lights her face. Fer a second. A breath. Then it darkens to shocked dismay.
There’s puzzlement all around. Raised eyebrows an baffled smiles. The cage is a rarely fine object. The best Tommo’s got in his trade bag is a buckle.
That’s quite the present, I says. It must of cost dear. What did you take fer it, Peg?
She waggles her head an shakes her bow. Never you mind, she says. The boy offered, I took, it’s business, our business, his an mine, Miss Nosy Poke, not yers.
Tommo, you didn’t. Emmi breathes the words in disbelief. It’s clear she knows full well what he’s traded. An she don’t like it, not one little bit. An Tommo don’t like her reaction. He scowls darkly. His cheeks flush.
No, says Emmi. You cain’t.
C’mon, says Ash. What is it?
Tommo’s glarin at Emmi. She glares back at him, her face scrinched with fury. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence. I notice Nero makin free with the food table.
At last Mercy says, When somebody gifts you, Emmi, it’s only good manners to accept with thanks.
Thank you, she says flatly. It’s the best present I’ll ever have.
No kiss, no hug, not even a smile. Fer the best present she’ll ever have. Then Peg swings into a sweet old waltz an the strange moment breaks. Mercy starts collectin the eatin tins. Molly pounces on Nero to rescue the food. As she scolds him fer a thief, she feeds him tidbits.
Lugh says to me, What was that about? An how did he manage it? Tommo ain’t got nuthin.
I know, I says. I ain’t got the faintest idea.
Ash saves Tommo from his humiliation. She grabs him to show him how to waltz an then he’s busy dodgin her clod-hoppin boots, countin one-two-three over an over. With a courtly bow, Slim bids Emmi to dance. Despitin his bulk, he glides her around in elegant twirls an swoops. Emmi makes a big show of ignorin Tommo. Her pleasure in her first ever party is gone.
Did you speak to her like we talked about? I says to Lugh.
He grimaces. Sorry, I fergot. But, c’mon, let her be. Now ain’t the time.
Now’s jest the time, I says. I’ll do it—don’t worry, I’ll be nice to her—but you owe me. We cain’t be th’only ones don’t gift her. Go rustle somethin up.
Where from? he says.
I dunno, look around, ask Peg, I says. We’re in a junkyard, fergawdsake. I managed to find you that necklace in a landfill an I’d say it’s pretty fine.
He grabs hold of it. The little green glass circle on a leather string that I gave him fer our last birthday. Eighteen year. He gives me a hopeful look as he says, Maybe I could—
You are not givin that to her, I says. Ungrateful swine. An don’t go givin her yer spare bootlaces neether.
He wanders off an I ain’t surprised to see him peer hopefully into a filthy old barrel. Like a birthday gift fer a ten-year-old girl might be found in such a place. It’ll fall to me to sort out but I’ll make him sweat a bit first.
I catch Creed’s attention an give him the nod. It’s jest gone dark outside. Time fer him to join Tracker on patrol duty. As he sets aside his squeezbox an heads my way, Peg rackets into a lively reel. She saws at the strings, stompin time on a board with gusto. Poor Slim lets out a pained wail. Lugh takes pity on him an Em shrieks with startled delight as he grabs her an starts reelin her about the room. Good man, big brother. Slim staggers to a stool to mop his brow.
Creed’s got me in his sights. His chin’s set determined, like a man on a mission. I think him an me’s about to have further words, probly on the subject of my character flaws. My body twitches to flee, but I stand my ground. I’ll hafta put him off. I gotta leave to meet Jack at Weepin Water.
Molly’s foot taps time as she helps Mercy clear the table. Creed passes by them an she touches his hand. She don’t look at him. It’s the briefest of touches an the light ain’t good, but I know I didn’t imagine it. An she was the one to reach. She was the one to touch. In the gloom, she must of thought she wouldn’t be seen.
Creed looks dazed. Like from a knockout punch, jest before you hit the ground. He walks straight past me. I stare at Molly. She smiles an chats to Mercy as they work. She makes like she cain’t abide him. Well. She did say it herself.
Life ain’t black an white. People ain’t neether. Family, friends, lovers. The longer I live, the more that I see, the less I know fer sure. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.
So many secrets. Emmi an Tommo an now Molly an Creed. What else don’t I know about? Far too much, I fear.
Emmi! I wave at her, shoutin over the fidget of Peg’s fiddle. C’mere!
Molly, calls Lugh. We’re two down. Help us out.
This tame old jig? She shrugs. Why not? With a swish of red petticoat, she sashays over an he swings her into a dizzy whirl.
Emmi snails her way to me, in sullen obedience. What? she says.
Don’t you what me, Miss Ten Year Old. C’mon, I says, you can help me saddle Hermes.
Hermes whinnies when he sees me carryin his reed mat an bridle. The wind hurries thin shreds of cloud across the sky. They shine whitely aginst the blue black of early night. The weather’s changed. Feels like it’s gonna be a cold one.
