DMB Digest: Menu Boy Must Be Brave Like Prawn
Not Coward Like Shrimp
To quote the Simpsons, which I do frequently, “Menu boy must not be coward like shrimp. Must be brave like prawn.” I hope these words of wisdom encourage you, like they do me, because when your task is as daunting as delivering Thai food menus to every possible crazy person, college student, and lock-in in town with ninja like stealth, you need an extra dose of courage.
While most of us aren’t delivering Thai food menus in dangerous neighborhoods, we probably are being confronted with unpleasant and difficult challenges. And hey, it’s my hope that my little bit of storytelling can inspire within us the bravery and courage of the PRAWN!!! (not that cowardly shrimp!)
I challenged my oldest son with his first multi-day manual labor task this week. I even gave him a bit of the “In my day…” speech about how I had to weed an entire yard that consisted of nothing but weeds using nothing but a pair of tweezers because the old man had decided to seed the yard with grass before removing the solid weed patch. And of course most of the weeds were thistles and bull nettle…and it was 100 degrees! And I got paid $3.25 an hour! (I learned to nail down the price before starting the job after that one.)
My son pulled through better than I thought he would, and he actually did a pretty good job instead of rushing through and having to go back several times. So, miracles are possible. And we can all power through some of the crap we gotta face and then take some pride in the fact that we made it through to the other side.
If you would like to read this week’s worth of scenes (or get caught up), I’ve attached them to this email below. Of course remember that you can always read along every day as I post the scenes to my substack. For this week, here is another dystopian tale I think you’ll enjoy!
Michelle Isenhoff’s first book in her Recompense Series is Free.
Born into Capernica’s lowest social tier and not permitted to leave Settlement 56, Jaclyn Holloway refuses to pour out her years in the local fish cannery. She gambles on the one chance available to her to advance—the high school Exit Examination. In a country that still keenly remembers the horrors of the Provocation, the period of unexplained disappearances that led to revolution, the smartest and strongest are richly rewarded in exchange for military service.
Jack is adamant that her best friend, Will Ransom, join her in striving for induction. But if Jack fails to pass the stringent physical standards and Will succeeds, she will not be allowed to see him again until his tour of duty is completed—in twenty years.
Meanwhile, the government has been keeping a tight lid on a new string of abductions. Jack’s Exam score places her in a position to aid Axis, an underground organization charged with investigating events that threaten national security. The evidence leads her back forty-seven years, to a series of high-profile cover-ups linked to the Provocation–the revolution that led to the birth of the Capernican nation. Blowing the whistle could place her in danger, but holding her silence means history will likely repeat.
And Capernica could never survive a second Provocation.
At the Desk This Week
I’ve pretty much been a creative failure this last week. My energies have gone into much MUCH less fun things. (Don’t ask. It involved mostly legal contracts and spreadsheets.) But I’ve been able to come up with some solutions that will be helpful down the road. That being said, I think I’ll be able to jump back into planning the 3rd Season of the The Green Ones tomorrow.
Seeing how I still have 99 remaining scenes to publish over the next 99 days, I’ve got time to get ahead of this train. I’ll have season three done by then…no problem. [gulps]
Outburst: Ep.1, Scene 9-Ep.2, Scene 5
(Click here to start at the Beginning)
I hear Neca long before I see him. While he hasn’t wandered off, he certainly doesn’t sound happy. I slink against the wall and wish I had some chocolates to go along with the papaya. That and maybe a bottle of mexcalli.
After listening to him curse the day he met me using a string of swears that would kill my mother all over again, I figure the situation isn’t going to get any better. Shuffling forward loudly, I call his name. The cursing stops. “Uh, Neca? You okay?” Instantly, I regret the idiotic question.
“If by ‘okay’ you mean hopping mad about being sucker punched by the most ridiculously annoying girl in Worker City who for the life of me I can’t figure out why I’m trying to help, then yes, I’m fine.”
His outline is now visible. “About that, I’m really sorry.”
“So now you’re going to tell me that you slipped? That you accidentally hit me with a brick?”
“That wasn’t a brick, it was my fist,” the words slip out.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Obviously, I’ve been hit harder.”
“Oh, obviously.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just—”
“Yes?”
“You’re right. It wasn’t an accident. It’s just—” exasperated, I don’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“Why didn’t you try asking me to wait here?”
“Wait. I—” the question catches me completely off guard. “I thought—”
“Look, I get it. You don’t want anyone to know the location of your mother’s garden. It’s a special place.” He steps forward until I can make out the edges of his face. “If we’re going to work together, we need to trust each other. Right now I trust fellow psych-fighters more than you. At least in the cage there are rules.”
Even though I know he is right, I struggle with the impulse to argue. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve been assuming the worst of you even though you’ve given me the best.” It stings me slightly to be so vulnerable with this boy, but the business of trading has taught me that admitting a few wrongs is the fastest means to repairing a broken relationship. And Neca is right, we need to work together. It’s equally obvious I need him more than he needs me.
“I know it’s not much,” I hold out the gifts, “but I brought you some water and a papaya.”
He whistles through his teeth. “How did you know?”
“What?”
“Papaya’s my favorite.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Papaya’s everyone’s favorite.” I lead us into a section of cave I’ve not frequently traveled, one that will open outside the shield dome protecting the Immortal City half of New Teo.
“Is it yours?”
“Nah, not me. I’m more of a kiwi girl.”
“You’ve got kiwi?”
I nod, my mouth full of papaya and my chin stuck out in front of me in attempt to keep the juice from dribbling onto my tzotzomatli. I swallow enough to talk. “My mother planted everything.”
“No wonder you want to keep it a secret.”
I speed up the pace, and for several minutes we continue through the dark confines of the cave without a word. Eventually, Neca breaks the silence. “That wasn’t really your fist, was it?”
“Well, I was holding a rock.”
He nods. “That explains it.”
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“What secret?”
“That Nightmare Neca’s no longer undefeated.”
“Oh,” He clucks his tongue. “Outside of the cage, I’ve lost plenty of fights.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Family. Friends. Personal ghosts. You know, the ones that count the most.”
“Oh.” I swallow, baffled by how easily Neca switches from annoying to tragic. “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“You know, share such personal information like that?”
“I’m sorry. It makes you uncomfortable.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “I can stop. It’s just—”
“And that.” I shirk my shoulder away from his touch.
He laughs. “Again, I apologize.”
I regret acting so cold, but the instinct has kept Olin and me safe. “It’s not that I don’t like it. Wait, I mean—”
“No need to explain.”
In my discomfort, I’ve increased our pace just short of jogging. I slow down to ensure I don’t clip my head on a low-hanging rock.
He says, “I forget that we come from different places.” His words are so close, I’m surprised we aren’t bumping into each other with every step.
“What does that mean?”
“No offense, but you and your brother aren’t chadzitzin, not really.”
“None taken.” I’m relieved we agree on at least one thing. “But I still don’t understand.”
“It’s hard to explain.” We duck and weave our way along the passage in silence for several minutes before he picks up where he left off. “There’s little want for secrets in the underground. When people know they haven’t long to live, the thing they want the most is to be known. Everyone wants to be remembered. I think most want to be remembered for the truth rather than some lie.”
“Is that why you fight? To be remembered?”
“In so many words, yes.”
“But psych-fighting? Don’t take this the wrong way, isn’t it all an act?”
“I think of it as more of a story, a true one.”
“I’m sorry, you lost me.” I dodge a jagged overhang. “Watch your head.”
Neca shuffles his feet, adjusting at the last second to avoid cracking his skull. After he breathes deeply, he continues. “The cage is a place to bare it all. Sure, beforehand you try to conceal your strategy, mask your strengths and weaknesses. But each move is another page in the story, a story that must be finished. And the best ones are the ones that don’t hold back.
“The crowd knows it, and so do the fighters. You can feel the epic ones unfolding—the pain and fear and triumph and loss that will teach you something new about yourself. I’m indebted to the cage. It has helped me take all the lessons in life I’ll never get a chance to live and compact them into raw, bloody bursts.”
On that note, we fall silent for several minutes. Having become slightly disoriented during our conversation, I’m not a hundred percent sure we’ve taken all the right turns. On top of that, my heart is hurting. Maybe more so than I want to admit. Listening to Neca bare his soul has made it worse.
Why didn’t he join Masa Academy before he got too old? With his natural talent, his chances of survival would have been better than most. He doesn’t talk like someone who has given up on life. If that’s really the case, why has he chosen certain death?
I have to admit I don’t understand Nightmare Neca at all. The smirk and confidence I saw as ego yesterday now seem more like honest enthusiasm. But I can’t get sucked into his mystique. In less than five days, Olin and I will leave Neca and the underground behind forever.
About the time I’m convinced we’ve taken a wrong turn, I recognize telltale signs of a large bat roost, including the squish of guano between my toes. Bats never roost far from an opening. I crouch and pull Neca down beside me.
I gesture toward the ceiling. He follows my gaze. As we sit, it becomes evident there is a mote more light. Several meters into an expanding chamber, the surface of the gently sloping rock above us pulses with life. One wrong move, and we could be in real trouble.
The bats themselves aren’t the immediate threat. The ones furthest back from the cave opening are most likely small fruit bats. The larger vampires occupy the best spots, closest to the exit. But causing a mass exodus will announce our presence to anyone on the outside who might happen to be looking in our general direction.
I hold my finger to my lips and then touch it to his to ensure he understands the situation. He nods. Carefully, I use the wall to stabilize our progress across the slippery floor. I’ve found in times like these it’s best not to see what you’re stepping in, or what you’re walking beneath.
Looking straight ahead, I proceed steadily and breathe as little as possible. We turn a corner and the light improves. This is where the omnivores and bloodsuckers will be, big hairy things.
It’s still raining outside. I hear the hush before I see it. The white noise masks our progress. Glimpsing a fragment of gray sky, I relax. The first sight of the outside world is always breathtaking after spending an hour or more in near pitch black—even if the outside world is dismal and wet.
Turning to smile at Neca, I slip. I bang my knee on the wall. Scrambling to regain my balance, I plant my second foot too quickly. It shoots out from under me along with the other. Just before my head impacts the wall, I feel a barrier of hot wind blow across my brow. Strong hands clutch my sides, and I’m flying.
The empty black turns to dizzying gray. Before I know what’s happening, I’m on hands and knees, sliding down a muddy slope. I roll onto my back, and Neca’s arm shoots across to steady me.
We slide to a stop. Rivulets of water snake past. Below, nothing except green forest runs downhill into the vast farmland south of New Teo. Several meters above, I spot the opening of the cave—no bats pouring out of it.
I lie back in the mud and breathe deeply. I’m so giddy with relief, and yet overwhelmed at the same time, I start to laugh. Perhaps it’s my version of one of the cage moments Neca described—a moment when experiences collide to teach me something about myself. Only I’m not sure what I’m supposed to learn.
Either way, Neca joins in, and the two of us lie there laughing in the mud.
My tzotzomatli, along with the pants beneath it are no longer purple or blue. They are brown, as brown as my skin. If anything, the mud has lightened Neca’s complexion. Steadying each other, we creep uphill toward the crest above the mouth of the cave.
This is where Centavo’s plan gets foggy. “Won’t we be visible to the immortals? I mean, please tell me we aren’t planning on walking up to the shield dome and knocking until someone lets us in.”
“Not exactly, but I don’t think you need to worry about anyone seeing us.”
Not understanding how that could be possible, I decide to display an effort at trust. Besides, I’m shivering with anticipation. Six years ago my brother and I caught a glimpse of the immortal side of New Teo from the farmland kilometers below. Never have I or anyone I know been this close. Except for Neca. We stop shy of the crest. “All right, lead the way.” I do my best to sound nonchalant.
“Let’s do it together.” Before I can object, he tugs me up and over.
I freeze in wonder. Just as quickly, wonder turns to confusion and disbelief. “That’s Immortal City? But it—”
“Looks pretty much the same. Yeah, that was my first thought too.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hey, it’s just the other side of the coin. One side’s always gotta be tails.”
I gape, staring back and forth between Neca and the underwhelming Immortal City. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Never mind. Besides, don’t freak out completely. The dome is the dome, right?”
Slowly, I nod my head. Of course Immortal City would look the same from this perspective.
“On the inside it’s…different, sorta.”
“Now you’re confusing me for fun.”
He jogs fluidly toward the shield dome. “Well, yeah. Sorta.” Just like that, Neca returns to his exasperating self.
“Stop it already.” Still, it’s a struggle to look at something other than his backside as he strides up the gentle slope ahead of me. Luckily, the closer we get to the metal mesh of the shield dome the more detail I have to distract myself. Most of the buildings appear to be metal foam rather than adobe. No surprise there. The structures are taller on average but not as grand as I had imagined.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve dreamt of Immortal City: the buildings, the streets, the shops. Especially the shops. Yet with each step closer, I can’t escape the fact Immortal City looks like a cleaner, nicer version of the working-class half of New Teo. I know I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am. After all, why should the immortals be treated so differently from the rest of us?
By the time we reach the shield, I’ve yet to see anything moving on the other side. No cable chairs, no shuttles, no people. “Now what?” I try to disguise that I’m out of breath and my side aches from eating nothing except fruit.
“We knock.”
“Wait, I thought—”
“Shhh,” he holds his finger to my lips and winks.
Somehow I’ve let on that his winking infuriates me. Now he’s doing it to excess. I’m about to see if I can land another punch, this one duly deserved, when he embraces me.
He’s so hot to the touch, his hand on my back must be burning through my clothes. My spine begins to vibrate. I struggle to draw a complete breath, to resist him. Instead, I melt. Then, to my shock, I realize we’re both melting right through the shield wall. The space of a few meters shimmers with telekinesis like butterflies swarming the branches of an Oyamel.
The surface ripples as we pass through it. Everything hums. I close my eyes as the light and heat washes up my chest and across my face. I gulp down air, my lungs expanding into a new-found freedom. Limp, I’m forced to cling to Neca. With a final shiver, I open my eyes. The impossible has happened; I’m inside Immortal City.
I’m inside Immortal City. I stare at my hands, ensuring they’re still there and still solid. “How did you do that?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Neca says.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I’m simultaneously angry and amazed.
“I’ve never done it with anyone else. I’m glad it worked out the same.”
“But how—you never—I can’t—” I breathe deeply, reminding myself we are one step closer to saving Olin. “Won’t someone know?”
“The trick is to borrow the telekinetic energy already in the mesh. It’s usually how I win in the cage.” Neca shrugs. “Centavo says it’s a pretty advanced skill.” He assumes a boyish grin that makes the statement seem genuinely humble.
“I guess so.” A swooshing sound disturbs the forest canopy overhead. At full alert, I yank Neca down to a knee. I rush forward and wedge myself into the buttressed roots of an ojé tree. Right behind me, Neca tries to talk. I shush him. Peeking around the trunk, I glimpse a spider monkey swinging away from us.
As I slump to the ground in relief, the leaf of the ugly plant crumples in my pocket. After I ensure the leaf and pungent buds are intact, I turn to Neca. “They allow wild animals inside Immortal City?”
“Some birds and monkeys.”
“Well, that’s different.”
Neca says, “There are a few other differences as well.”
I stare at him.
“This would be a good time for you to follow my lead. You up for it?” he asks.
I make an act of internal debate.
“Calli.”
“Xoxoctic. You lead.”
Neca nods. “It’s not likely we’ll be seen. If we are, it won’t be xoxoctic. There’s no such thing as immortal kids, so there won’t be any need for questioning. Understood?”
“Disintegration bad, I got it.”
“We don’t have far to go.” He stands up straight and takes a deep breath. “Oh, one last thing. If you have to choose between being invisible and being fast, choose invisible. With immortals, quick is never quick enough.”
The longer Neca talks, the more nervous I get. I nod as he helps me to my feet. “I’m sorry for hitting you. Thank you for helping my brother.”
He grins. “Hey, it’s all in the day of a chadzitzin.” With that, he strides smoothly away from the shelter of the perimeter garden and toward the nearest structure—a three-story, metal-foam apartment.
I stare after him dumbly for a few seconds, contemplating his last words. It finally hits me. Neca’s swagger, all his oozing confidence, comes from the fact he lives every day expecting to die. He waves his hand without lifting it from his side and without turning his head.
I still haven’t moved. With a deep breath, I follow his lead while repeating the same two words over and over in my head, be invisible. Be invisible.
For a few never-ending minutes, we silently traverse a small section of Immortal City, rarely moving faster than a quick walk. Less cramped and more vertical than Worker City, Immortal City intensifies my sense of vulnerability. With time, the most stark contrasts sink in.
First, Immortal City is painfully quiet to the point of causing chills to rove up and down my skin. A couple hundred meters from the perimeter and we haven’t encountered a single living thing other than the monkey.
Second, there are no shops, no businesses, no public buildings of any sort. Every structure appears to be residential.
Third, everything appears to be empty.
Neca leads the way into an alley between two apartment buildings identical to all the others. Without slowing down, he opens a door, pulls me inside, and swings the door shut. “This is it,” he exhales.
At first I don’t understand. We’re in some sort of lobby, brightly lit, comfortably decorated. A wall-sized electric viewscreen depicts a snowcapped mountain vista. I recognize the technology because there is a similar device inside the Masa Educational Museum. The rest of the room consists of a seating area without a reception desk. The only exit is a set of double doors across from us.
I realize what the doors are after Neca presses a button in the wall next to them. “Where is everyone?” I ask.
“That’s complicated.” He uncoils his braid from around his neck. “Honestly, I’m not sure I understand the answer.”
He is no longer whispering, but I can’t bring myself to raise my voice. “What do you mean? Are there immortals in Immortal City or not?” An electric hum grows louder until it stops directly behind the double doors.
“Yes.” Neca takes my hand. At the moment I have absolutely no thought of rejecting him. He smiles. “Don’t worry, she’s a friend.”
The doors slide open. Standing there with a concerned expression, an elegantly yet comfortably dressed woman stares back and forth between the two of us. I squeeze Neca’s hand tight enough to cut off the circulation.
The woman tilts her head. “Neca, I’m surprised to see you. Am I to presume this unscheduled visit is bad news?”
Neca bows subtly. “Potentially.”
“And your friend?” The woman asks.
“She possesses something Centavo seems to think will be of great interest to you.” Neca squeezes my hand.
I bow and throw in a curtsy—something my mother showed me for impressing people of position. “I humbly request your help.” Looking down, I realize I’m caked in mud. Phasing through the shield wall dried it. Some has chipped off since, but I’m still a mess. Hesitantly, I glance up.
The woman smiles, gesturing for Neca and I to join her on the lift. “She’s pretty, even through the mud.”
“Yes, she is.” Neca winks.
The tension having passed, I drop his hand. The doors close, and we start to rise.
“You’re not thinking of dumping me for a younger woman, are you?”
“What? Never.” Neca sidles up next to the immortal. “The two of us aren’t even friends. She’s got her heart set on the academy.”
The lift slows to a stop, and I can’t say I’m enjoying the banter at my expense. At least I hope it’s banter. The thought flickers through my mind that such a thing could exist as an occetahtli for immortals. Surely Neca isn’t that desirable.
The woman laughs softly. “Ah, a Masa girl. Good news for me, I suppose.” The doors open. The woman bars the exit. “And her name?”
“Calli,” I introduce myself before Neca can do it. “Calli Bluehair. I’m a dye trader.”
The woman raises an eyebrow at this. “Of course, I should have noticed.” She gestures toward my braid. “May I?”
The request confuses me. No one except my mother has ever handled my braid. Surely this strange immortal woman is not suggesting to do so.
“Ah,” Neca takes the woman’s hand cordially and leads her off the lift, “she’s a bit of a prude. Very traditional, I’m afraid.”
The woman straightens. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant no offense.” She sighs. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve lived in Worker City. Sometimes I rather envy Centavo Huehue.”
At the mention of Centavo, Neca eyes me apologetically. Of course he knew the old man was immortal. I guess he was obligated to pretend he didn’t. None of this matters now. Saving Olin is the only thing that matters, and it’s time we get down to it. Stepping off the lift, it becomes obvious why Centavo sent us here.
My jaw drops. I feel an instant kinship with our host. Clearly functioning as both a place of residence and work, the large suite is half-filled with plants, watering systems, coolers and lab equipment. The immortal woman is a botanist. If there is anyone who can help my brother, it is this woman.
Before I know what I am doing, I remove the leaf from my pocket and shove it into the woman’s hands. I’m babbling about my brother and the accident and how Centavo thinks he’s in telekinetic paralysis. I don’t mention my mother’s garden. At least I don’t think I do. I simply keep rambling until I’m out of breath and tears are streaming down my face.
Neca has shifted from the woman’s side to mine. He ushers me to a couch, and I sit.
“Oh, dear God.” The woman holds the unfurled leaf in one hand and a bud in the other. She stares at Neca and me. She glances around the room as if to make sure no one else is present. There aren’t even any windows to the outside world, nothing except a viewscreen containing a waterfall surrounded by lush greenery. “Where did you get this?” She rivets me.
“I—I—” wiping the tears from my cheek, I hesitate.
Neca steps in. “From a secret garden.”
“No one knows? You’re certain?”
“I don’t even think Centavo knew until this morning.”
“Wait,” the woman looks at me anew, “then that means this is—”
“Centavo knew her parents,” Neca adds.
“They’re dead!” I blurt out the words, not even sure why the fact is significant. With so many people digging up my past, my parents’ deaths have become raw and painful again.
The woman rushes to my side and sits. Without asking permission, she puts an arm around me. From this close, she smells like my mother.
I close my eyes and squeeze her in return.
“I’m so sorry, piotzin. You’ve been through so much. Don’t worry, I know what to do. We’ll save Olin.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how to thank you.” I straighten myself, relatively certain I never mentioned Olin’s name. I look the woman in the eyes. They’re warm and familiar. “Wait, what did you call me?”
“I’m sorry.” She removes her arm from around me. “Was I too forward?”
“No, you called me piotzin. No one has called me ‘little chick’ since—”
“Like Centavo, I knew your parents.” The woman’s smile is pained. “We were friends.” She gently curls the leaf around the buds and clutches them to her chest. “Especially your mother and I.”
It makes sense two people with such love for plants would find each other, even across the immortal/worker divide. I nod. “So you can brew the medicine Centavo spoke of?”
“With the divine gift you’ve given me, yes.” She clenches her hand around the leaf and buds from the unassuming plant I had once mistaken for a weed. “I certainly can.”
She stands, a look of determination washing over her. “It will take some time. I must start immediately. I apologize, but the work will require leaving your creature comforts in the capable hands of our friend, Neca.” She turns toward the mysterious boy that brought me to her door. “You remember where everything is?”
Neca nods.
“Good.” She glances at a clock on the wall. “I’m afraid I won’t be finished until the middle of the night.”
“It’ll be easier to return by darkness,” Neca says.
“Very well.” The woman sets about arranging equipment on a vast counter that runs the entire length of the room.
I recognize simple things like scales and burners. Most of the equipment is as alien to me as fins to a monkey. In the corner, I recognize what looks to be a huge distillery with copper coils curling around it.
The woman looks up as she binds her hair in a bun on top of her head. “There are no residents in the building, and none scheduled. Still,” she stares directly at Neca, “do try to be discreet.”
He winks. “It’s me.”
“Yes,” the woman stabs her hair with a glass dropper, “try anyway.”
“Come on,” Neca takes my hands and pulls me from the couch, “she’s feisty when she’s working.”
I watch the immortal woman swoosh back and forth along the counter for a moment longer. I don’t even know her name, but I like her, more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. Then again, she reminds me of my mother.
In the next room, Neca closes the door before removing his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I retreat, looking for a heavy object to wield.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Ladies first.” He bows—the gesture slightly less irritating than his wink—and indicates a closed door behind me. We’re already in the bedroom. I have no idea where he expects us to end up, but I’m not going there voluntarily. Maybe he’s used to other girls melting at the chance.
He raises a brow. “Well? What’s it going to be? We’ve got several hours to blow, and I’m feeling pretty dirty myself. You?”
“I most certainly do not. You smarmy, arrogant little weasel. If you even try—”
Neca says, “Look, I said I was sorry. I’ll even put my shirt back on.” He pulls the crusty garment over his head, his chest muscles rippling as he does so. “Now, are you going to shower first or not?”
“I—” biting my tongue, I turn to look at the closed door. I walk up to it and slide it open. It’s a bathroom—a private bathhouse built into the side of the bedroom. “Of course I am.” I point my finger at him. “And let that be a lesson to you.” I slip inside the bathroom and close the door. Great, I don’t even understand what I just said. Now I seem like a crazy cheche.
I slip out of my muddy clothes and fill the entire room with steam. After I get over the fact I’m taking a private, hot shower in the middle of the day, I replay the conversation with Neca over and over in my mind. By the time I shut off the water, I’ve decided I never outright mentioned sex. While clearly embarrassing myself, my behavior hadn’t been that far off from how I’d treated him all day.
I pound my forehead on the tile wall. Why am I such a jerk? I towel off, making sure not to slip on the wet floor. Some bits of mud have refused to find the drain. I start to smear them with my foot but figure Neca will only leave more. I might as well come back later and clean once instead of twice.
I catch myself being mean again, even if only in my thoughts. Worse than an addiction, it’s part of me at a subconscious level. I hang up my towel and take one look at my tzotzomatli and pantslying in a dirty heap on the floor. Now what do I do? There’s nothing else to wear, and besides, I’d never leave behind my single favorite possession.
I turn the water back on and launder the garments. As I wring them, I remind myself that I’m not always a jerk. My fear of losing Olin has put me on edge. And Neca is really the only person who brings out the worst in me. So in a way, it’s his fault.
I huff and slap my wet braid on the counter. I look at myself in the mirror. It’s the first time I can remember doing so this closely, and in the nude, for years. The last time I had the opportunity, I was only a little girl. I’m not a bad person. And all in all, I’m not that awful to look at. If not actively infected, I’m sure I would have had my choice of at least a few husbands.
The thought of getting married and having children passes like bats from a cave. I cringe, close my eyes, and wait for the last of it to fade. I like bats more than babies. Still, knowing I’ll never be given the option…
I look at the girl in the mirror again—not quite a woman, not yet. I determine the fact will remain my secret until it’s no longer a fact. There’s a light knock at the door. “Don’t come in!” I reach for the towel and nearly slip in the process.
Neca Replies, “Don’t worry, I was just hoping to get a shot at that shower before nightfall. Everything okay in there?”
I’ve been piddling around for nearly an hour. It wouldn’t be right to make him wait any longer, and my tzotzomatli won’t be dry enough to wear for a few more hours at least. I’ve already got the towel halfway draped over me. I hesitate. There’s barely enough fabric, if at all. Pulling the second towel off the rack, I wonder if there is a way to combine them.
Then I remember the way Neca spoke of me to the immortal woman, making excuses for my backwardness. Prude, am I? I’ll show him traditional.
I wrap the first towel tightly around my braid and coil the whole thing on top of my head. I tuck it firmly in place the way my mother taught me as a little girl. While wrapping the second towel around me, I’m barraged with doubts. It’s a good thing my chest isn’t any bigger, or the fabric wouldn’t stretch far enough south to conceal the basics.
I tug the bottom and slouch to provide a bit more coverage. But every time I breathe in, the towel slides up. The nitpicking and fretting only angers me further. What do I have to be ashamed of?
Straightening my shoulders, I give myself a final look in the mirror and will the little girl to grow up. Anything Mr. Sexypants can do, I can do better.
“I hope you left me some hot wa—” Neca turns to face me mid-sentence. The look on his face is both gratifying and terrifying.
My whole body goes flush. Instantly, I regret trying to prove myself. I’m not cut out for being the center of attention. I’m not like Neca. I attempt to unfurl my damp tzotzomatli in front of me. “It’s all yours. Think I might be able to get my hands on a robe or something?” Like an idiot, I catch myself speaking a tone or two lower than my normal voice.
“Oh, uh.” He runs his hand along his braid while looking at the floor. “Sure, there should be something in the closet.”
He starts toward a set of sliding doors, but I beat him there. I can’t keep a straight face, and I’m glad for the opportunity to turn my other cheeks.
“Probably on the far right. You’re about the same height so…” it sounds as if he is talking with his back turned.
Perhaps it’s for the better. Now that I think of it, I never checked to ensure the skimpy towel didn’t leave my buttocks hanging out.
Neca says, “So, I’ll just head in now, you know, to shower.”
“Sounds good.” I breathe deeply as the bathroom door slides shut. My heart is pounding, and my hands are sweaty.
Neca calls from behind the closed door. “Maybe if you find an extra robe you could toss it in?”
“Will do,” I reply. Fumbling with a light cotton robe, it’s all I can manage to slide my arms into the sleeves and collapse onto the bed. I lie there for a few minutes, until I’m sure I can stand without trembling. Not wanting to wait until Neca shuts off the water, I find a second robe and slip it through a crack in the bathroom door along with one of the towels.
Anxious to put the whole thing behind me, I decide to risk checking on the immortal woman’s progress. As I cross the living room toward the combination lab and kitchen, I realize I never even asked her name. Without any other means of addressing her, I default to the honorific title for mother. “Tenantzin, sorry to interrupt you—”
“Please, call me Izel.”
“Izel, thank you again for helping me. I hope I’m not putting you at risk.”
She doesn’t turn from her work. While adjusting a burner, she stirs a liquid of some sort.
I don’t want to be a bother, so I stare at the viewscreen. The scene seems vaguely familiar, like she constructed it based on an actual place nearby. There are at least half a dozen similar waterfalls within a day’s round trip of New Teo. It strikes me as odd that someone living in Immortal City would block off the outside world just to reproduce an artificial version of it.
After a long pause, Izel responds. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’m glad to be of help, for both you and your brother. And there’s little risk of me getting in trouble. It’s you two who better be careful.” She turns her head long enough to give me a smile.
“We will.” I take a seat on the couch and attempt to scrape off a bit of encrusted mud I left there earlier. Exhausted, I close my eyes. The next thing I remember is waking up to Neca’s hand on my shoulder.
“Here, you need to eat something before we go.”
I sit up, self-consciously securing the robe and rubbing my eyes. “How long was I out?”
“About five hours,” Neca says. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“Midnight?” I’m instantly awake. “We should hurry. Is the medicine ready yet?”
Izel answers from the lab. “Almost, dear. First have a bite to eat. I’m sure Centavo’s taking care of Olin.”
I try not to think about the possibility that Centavo has already taken care of Olin, for good. I tear a loaf of bread with my teeth. No, I remind myself, Olin made it last time. He’ll make it this time. I just need to return with the medicine before the sun—before the ID burn.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read these scenes of Outburst, Season 1 of The Green Ones. I’ll be publishing FREE daily scenes from The Green Ones until…I die…or something terrible happens. Seriously, I’ve got over 100 scenes written so far, and I’ll be writing more until the story reaches its natural ending. You are totally welcome to read the entire story for FREE! If at any point you decide you would rather finish the story in ebook or print format, just click the buttons below and you can do that as well. If you enjoy reading the serial releases, BUT you would also like to support me as a writer (my kids need wine!) please subscribe to my premium content for bonus scenes, exclusives, and insider access to my process. And of course, I’d be grateful if you would share this post with any of your reader friends who you think would enjoy The Green Ones. Happy reading!
Excellent writing and wonderful storytelling!