Truancy Origins (59 page)

In that instant, Noni saw something strange flash in her opponent's pale eyes. The next things Noni saw were stars, and she was sent reeling backwards from an incredibly fast strike to the face. For the first time the albino seemed angry, passing under a bright streetlamp as she stepped forward.
For a moment she appeared frighteningly ethereal, her hair radiant as her eyes flashed red. Then she was normal once more, and her chain shot forward like a snake.

The attack was too swift for Noni to dodge. The weighted end of the chain struck her on the forehead, but amazingly she did not lose consciousness as she fell backwards to the ground. Fighting the pain in her head, Noni sat up to see her enemy slowly advancing upon her. Acting on instinct, Noni groped for her knife, and upon finding it she hurled it at the other girl.

The albino casually swatted the knife out of the air with her wrapped arm, and the blade glinted as it tumbled off the edge of the bridge. Disarmed and defeated, Noni could do naught but sit helplessly in the other girl's shadow as she came to a halt in front of Noni. A chill wind kicked up, and Noni shuddered as it finally tugged her loosened scarf from her face, punctuating the completeness of her failure.

There was nothing to do now but wait for mercy.

To wait for death.

“I'm not going to kill you.”

At that, Noni hung her head, for she had dreaded those words, dreaded being sentenced to live in disgrace.

“You were just stalling me all along, weren't you?” Noni whispered.

“Yes.”

“You knew you wouldn't have to kill me.”

“I hoped.”

“I hate you!” Noni suddenly screamed. “Why can't I beat you? Why can't I be like you?”

“Why try to be something you're not?” the other girl asked, crouching down to Noni's level. “If you can find pride in who you are, success comes naturally.”

At that, Noni swallowed and looked away. Several blocks down a fire crew was finishing putting out the flames from a crash, and a large group of spectators had gathered to watch. The scene barely registered in Noni's eyes. Noni had only one question left in her mind, now that it no longer mattered, not in the aftermath of her failure.

“Was I . . . wrong?”

“You made the same choice as many parents of this City,” the albino said. “You fought only for the safety of your boy. I fought for the happiness of mine. It's not for me to tell you whether you were right or wrong; think about what
he
would have preferred. Have you been loyal to him . . . or just yourself?”

The question hurt, for the answer was obvious. Noni had betrayed the one she had claimed to love. Her heart sank, a terrible feeling compounded by the nagging reminder that her parents, she was sure, had never fought for her safety or her happiness. Seeming to sense her distress, the nameless girl crouched down and brushed the hair out of Noni's wet eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, and for a moment Noni winced, thinking that the girl was going to offer unwanted reassurances. Instead she said:

“You have nice hair. Do you mind if I braid it for you?”

Noni nodded numbly, and sat in silence as the girl slid behind her and gently began working with her hair. Now far off in the distance, Noni could see two specks, one white and one black, still fighting, unaware of what had transpired on the overpass. Somehow the distance brought home to Noni the fact that she really wasn't a part of that intimate battle, that she wasn't a part of Zyid's life . . . and that she never would be.

And so, as the strange girl finished braiding her hair into a ponytail, Noni truly broke out into tears, crying her heart out as she hadn't done in years. The other girl said nothing, but gathered Noni up in her arms and gave her a gentle squeeze.

It was the first motherly embrace that Noni had ever known.

The simple gesture was so shocking that Noni actually gasped. It was warm, more than warm. It spoke to her of acceptance, support, safety, and things that couldn't be put into words, things she had never known in all her life, that couldn't be imagined until experienced. She felt as though she could forever sleep peacefully in that embrace, and for the first time she knew what it was to be a baby in a crib.

For what seemed like eternity the two girls sat there in perfect silence, spectators of a greater battle that neither had any part in. Suddenly the sound of approaching sirens drew their attention, and Noni finally snapped out of her daze.

“So, more Enforcers are finally arriving,” the albino murmured, standing up. “I'll have to keep them away from those two. Stay calm, Noni. No matter the outcome, your boy will be happier if you don't interfere.”

Then in a blur of white she was off.

Like admonishment from the heavens, stinging hail began to fall as Noni sat there on the overpass, alone with her thoughts. The other girl had been kind, beautiful, strong, and graceful. Everything Noni wasn't, everything Noni wanted to be. The other girl hadn't failed her boy. Noni had failed hers, in more ways then one. Was it any surprise that Noni hated her? No, hated herself?

So as Noni helplessly watched the two specks slip from her sight and
onto a distant ice-skating rink, she replaced the scarf around her face, so that she might again hide her shame from the world.

 

T
hough neither Umasi nor Zen would admit it, the two were exhausted by the time their feet hit the ice of the skating rink. Their heavy breaths froze into clouds, and hail had begun to fall in sheets, veiling the world and stinging any exposed skin. But all of this was a mere annoyance compared with the blows the two had already taken. Somewhere out there sirens were blaring, but like the ring of the school bell the sound no longer had the power to scare them. They had graduated from fear.

Nobody stood in their way as their fight reached the ice. This particular rink was a famous attraction of District 1, but was meant only for professional exhibitions, of which there were none that day. Zen had thrown Umasi over the barrier and onto the rink, then followed without hesitation. Umasi rose to his feet, and slowly, carefully, the two approached each other while trying not to slip on the ice. It was not unlike learning to walk for the first time, which, though they no longer remembered it, the brothers had also once done together.

Coming within striking distance, Zen lashed out with the crowbar, but Umasi ducked and threw a punch in response. Like lightning, Zen caught the oncoming fist with his free hand, and for a few moments the two combatants struggled to break the deadlock. They braced their feet against the ice, but pressed so hard that when the slippery surface finally caused their footing to give way, they were sent sliding in opposite directions.

As they came to a halt, the two realized that on ice their sure footing and refined movements were useless. The realization appealed to their more savage instincts, and suddenly their fight was no longer an elegant dance, but a primal struggle for dominance and survival.

Having regained some confidence in his movements, Zen surged forward across the ice as though he were skating and swung wide with his crowbar. Umasi dived feet-first, avoiding the attack and shooting straight at his oncoming foe. In Zen's haste to get out of the way, he slipped and fell. He hastened to rise, but as soon as he did he was met by Umasi's fist.

The punch was so powerful, the crowbar slipped from Zen's hands as he fell backwards and slid across the rink. For a moment he feared that he might lose consciousness, but the punishing hail on his face kept him awake even as it kept his eyes shut. Then Zen felt it—something pressing against his waist. Reaching for his belt even as he slid, Zen's numbly realized that it was a knife. Where had that come from, he wondered? He was sure that he hadn't brought a knife with him.

Then he remembered something, and suddenly everything became clear.

Noni had brushed against him before she left.

Zen didn't know how to feel about Noni slipping him a weapon without his knowledge, but he did know that to use it would be dishonorable. Yet he found that that didn't matter to him anymore. A moment later he lurched painfully to a stop, having bumped into the edge of the rink. Zen had been pushed beyond honor, pushed into a corner. All that mattered now was that there was a weapon in his hand, and he intended to use it.

Zen kept the blade concealed in the folds of his windbreaker as Umasi shot towards him, sliding swiftly across the ice. Zen took a deep breath, then launched himself off the wall towards his oncoming enemy. The two clashed at tremendous speeds. The knife flashed in a single, deft stroke, and blood splattered over the icy surface of the rink.

Zen and Umasi slid to a halt a few moments later, their backs to each other, and Zen casually wiped the knife off on his pants. The patter of hail striking the ground seemed deafening as a heavy silence grew between the two brothers. Umasi was the one to break it.

“What next, Zen?” he said coldly, removing his scarf to bandage his waist. “Will you pull out a gun and shoot me if that knife doesn't give you a sufficient advantage?”

“Spare me the lecture, Umasi. Brute strength means nothing without the will to win. This fight will be decided by ruthlessness.”

“Rationalizations betray insecurity,” Umasi said, turning around. “Let your actions speak for themselves, Zyid. In fact, they already have.”

“This newfound pomposity of yours will do no good, Umasi . . .” Zen spun around and dived into a slide. “ . . . not when you are dead!”

Prepared for the attack, Umasi jumped aside and hit the ice as Zen shot past with his knife bared. Sliding across the rink on his back, Umasi reached out with one arm and snatched Zen's fallen crowbar as he passed by, then used it to dig into the ice and skid to a halt. As Zen came charging towards him again, this time upright on both feet, Umasi leapt up and swung the crowbar so fast the air hummed. Zen blocked the attack with his knife, but was unable to control his momentum and slid right into Umasi, who promptly drove his elbow into Zen's face.

Zen dropped to the ground hard, but managed to make a swipe at Umasi's legs with his knife. Umasi leapt backwards but slipped, and both brothers raced to get back on their feet.

Zen was the first to rise, lunging at the unprepared Umasi. Acting on instinct, Umasi struck with the crowbar, hitting the hand that held Zen's knife. The blade went flying off to the side, but Zen hadn't been stopped. He tackled Umasi, sending them both sliding across the rink once more, locked in a savage embrace. They traded several blows, until Zen struck a
stunning blow between Umasi's eyes. Then they were separated, just in time to crash into the base of the stairs that led up and out of the rink.

By the time Umasi had risen, steadying himself against the handrail, Zen was already running up the stairs. Not sorry to leave the ice behind, Umasi gave pursuit, feeling his limbs and lungs burn as a sea of lights swam into his hazy vision. He could make out Zen's dark silhouette crossing the street towards an enclosure dividing two lanes of traffic. There were trees there, bare of leaves now but wrapped in wires of festive lights, making them visible even through the darkness of Umasi's sunglasses. For some reason the world didn't seem so hazy anymore, and as Umasi looked heavenwards he realized that the hail had ceased.

The light changed, and traffic began moving, but Umasi didn't wait for it to stop. He plunged into the street, dodging honking cars again, nearly getting run over by a truck before finally reaching the other side. Though he was breathing harder than ever, Umasi straightened up and walked calmly into the small parklike enclosure where, he saw, Zen was already waiting for him amidst the glittering trees, plant pots, and small tables.

Zen had his back turned to Umasi, but Umasi could tell that he was holding something. To his tired eyes it seemed as though Zen was now clutching a rope of light, but Umasi knew that it had to be a length of festive wire torn down from one of the trees. The scene seemed oddly peaceful, now that the hail had stopped.

“Do you remember this place, Umasi?” Zen asked.

“No,” Umasi replied, looking around again.

“This is where we used to wait for the chauffeur to drive us back to the mansion.” Zen spread his arms. “I don't blame you for forgetting. It's been a long time.”

Now Umasi remembered, and the memories came pouring back as if a dam had burst. He recognized everything; the tiles they used to draw on with chalk, the table they used to sit at, the tree they had once been scolded for climbing.

From here, we could always go home.

“Why did you bring us here?” Umasi demanded.

“Why not?” Zen replied. “Both of us are tired, Umasi. We can't afford to play much longer. There's no limousine coming to pick us up, and there's no home to go back to. For one of us, let this place be the start of a new beginning. And for the other, let it be the end.”

Umasi swallowed a troublesome lump in his throat. Stanching the flow of memories, he concentrated instead on the bruises on his body, the gash on his waist and the aching of his muscles. His head felt like it was in a cloud. Zen was right; one way or another, their fight was coming to an end.

“So be it.”

Zen smiled, then spun around, cracking the wire like a whip. Their final moves would be made at last.

Electricity crackled as some of the lights broke against the ground, but the wire was still live as Zen sent it shooting towards Umasi. Umasi dodged to the side and attempted to counterattack, but the moment he took a step forwards, the wire snapped at his heels. As Umasi drew back, Zen twirled the lights overhead, causing a dazzling effect, then lashed out again. Umasi ducked and leapt forward this time, but the wire swiftly doubled back, and he reflexively raised a hand to block it.

The wire cracked against his bare palm, and Umasi could feel tiny glass bulbs shatter painfully from the impact. Then came the jolt of electricity, worse than the sting of static, sending him reeling backwards in pain. Zen drew the wire back and then swung again, this time striking across Umasi's chest. That blow wasn't as painful as it could have been, cushioned by a sweater as it was, allowing Umasi the presence of mind to dodge the next crack of the wire.