CHAPTER EIGHT #2
The chief, Jahnu, stood among them, placid, arms crossed as he surveyed them.
I glared at him, sending all the negative energy I felt in his direction.
He must have felt it because he returned my gaze, but I did not back down.
I willed him to feel the full force of my anger—grooming children to be killers for him. Absolutely disgusting.
Our reciprocating stare broke when one of the children, a taller boy, approached him offering his bow.
Jahnu took it, speaking something I couldn’t hear.
He joined the line of children and began shooting the arrows—each hit elicited cheers from his admirers who, by now, had quit their own practice to watch the master.
He hit the bullseye of every target, and soon the children were challenging him with moving objects they threw into the air. He hit those, too. I rolled my eyes at the obvious display of his expertise, wondering briefly if it was for my benefit.
Soon after, the Hundi men collected all the bows and arrows and traded them for bamboo sticks and a coconut.
The children surrounded the chief. He spoke softly to the group before looking my way, then he started walking toward me.
I crossed my arms against my too-exposed chest and huffed out a frustrated sigh.
“You play.” It was not a question.
“No, thank you,” I said without looking up at him.
“It is better dan doing not’ing all day. Come.”
“Is it a command, then?” I looked up at him, still mad. “Are you going to force me to play?”
“Force you? I do not force. Only invite.” His shorts hung loose on narrow hips, his chest dappled with black fuzz.
“How kind…is that how you treat all your prisoners?”
“Prisoner? You are not a prisoner…you are a guest.”
I huffed out a derisive laugh from my nose and looked away.
“Are you not fed? Given shelter? Being a guest of Hundi is an honor. Come play wit us.”
“No, thank you!”
“Ahh, I unde’stand…you do not like to lose.”
I looked at him directly with thinly veiled contempt. His eyes sparkled with mischief and humor which only made mine smolder with anger. “I do not lose games,” I said evenly, sharing my competitive nature—it was true.
Greg hated playing games with me for that very reason, because it didn’t matter if it was chess or volleyball, competition drove me and losing was just not an option.
“Let us see if that is true,” he offered his hand to help me up. What was this nice-guy routine he was playing at? It infuriated me more. At least when he was cold and stoic, I had a reason to begrudge his control over me.
I refused his outstretched hand and huffed passed him toward the corybantic group of children.
With the rules explained, I gripped the bamboo stick, the sun shining brightly overhead.
The game was much like field hockey, mixed with soccer and Lacrosse.
The coconut was passed on the ground or in the air between teammates, toward the goals at the end of each side of the field.
The bamboo sticks had been cut at the end so as to form a crude kind of scoop that fit the small coconut perfectly.
Not many other rules, besides staying in bounds—not that the group would’ve followed them had I tried to bring more organization to positions or strategy. An all-out ransack then—fine. It would give me some place to channel my fury.
We began with two boys facing off to fight for possession of the coconut.
Our team gained the ball first. With a jolt to my arm, I caught it in my stick—heavier than expected.
I tipped the coconut-ball out and struck it, sending it across the grass like a puck on ice.
The children’s raucous chatter called for direction as they ran across the playing field, passing the ball back and forth.
One on the opposing team stole the coconut and passed it to Jahnu.
I ran to intercept and whacked my bamboo stick against his, making him drop the coconut.
I heard him mumble something angrily before I scooped it up again and flung it a few yards in the direction of my team’s goal.
I ran past him, shouldering Jahnu with force, giving me a small sense of satisfaction.
My team made quick work with the ball and with the lack of defenders on their side, ran it easily into the goal.
“Ha!” I yelled across the field in Jahnu’s direction. My teammates surrounded me with claps and whoops of congratulations. Jahnu approached, his facial expression rigid.
“Luck of the beginner,” he said, tightly.
“Oh, what? You do not like to lose?” I gloated, breathing heavily, throwing his own words back in his face.
“You have won not’ing. Simply made a point. First to five goals is de winner.”
“Alright, then, let’s go again.”
This time Jahnu and I faced off for the chance at the ball, our sticks held in position above the coconut, our faces inches from one other.
My anger fueled me and at the count of three, I chose not to go after the ball, but drove my shoulder into Jahnu’s chest, knocking him off balance.
I kicked the ball behind me to one of my teammates who scooped it up and flung it in the direction of their goal, but Jahnu’s agility had him off the ground and catching it in his stick before I had the chance to spin.
I tried to trip him on his way toward their goal but he dodged me, made a pass, and their team scored.
Bastard. Their cheers set my nerves on edge—whatever. We were tied. It wouldn’t be for long.
We continued, giving the children the chance to face off each time, but I noticed as the game wore on and the points mounted somewhat evenly, we forgot it was a game for fun and played as if it all depended on the outcome, our egos evenly matched.
He was good at this—I’d give him that. I didn’t usually have to try so hard to win. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, determined to beat him.
We were tied, 4 to 4. All depended on the next score.
I faced off with Jahnu again. Sweat dripped from his curly beard, and I noticed his quick glimpse at my swelling cleavage.
Death by distraction. I was sure I had him, and when the countdown ended I easily scooped up the coconut into my stick, looked for a teammate to pass it to, took a step forward, and then…
went flying toward the ground. I hit hard with the force of my intended pass, right on my chest, knocking the air out of myself and eating dirt.
Jahnu scooped up the coconut, with a smirk in my direction.
He’d tripped me with his stick—what a cheat.
I lowered my forehead to the earth as his team cheered.
Righting myself, I placed my forearms on my knees to catch my breath, and wiped dirt from my mouth.
“The game was good, yes?” came the cheerful reply amongst the chatter of the children. “You ok?” he asked, squatting in front of me.
“I’m fine,” I stood, shoving past him.
“I am right. You do not like to lose.”
“It’s not a loss when the other team cheated.”
“Cheated?” he said to my back. “It is just a game.”
I whipped around to face him. “A game, huh? And is that why I’m here?
Part of your game with Makia? A guest you say, or am I more like a bargaining chip?
” Jahnu remained silent, his expression darkening.
“Do you even know what your tribe has done? You terrorize the tribes around the island, trying to control the progress and industry of the ones who are working for their betterment! And you’re training children to be a part of this war? ”
“You have been here so long to know the history of our conflict?” he slung the words at me.
“I know enough to know the strings you hold on whatever is happening between the tribes are weakening with every attack, and I will not be a pawn in this game for control! How are you the chief of Hundi anyway? The Makia’s council is twice your age…
” I went on, “do you even know what you are doing?” I winced as Jahnu’s hand rose to strike me, but he stopped himself and lowered it slowly.
“You would do well to speak less of things you know not’ing about,” he said darkly.
“At least I’m willing to speak,” I said through clenched teeth, turned on my heel and left him standing in the field.