Native Tongue

by Shannon Greenland

  Minutes later we stepped onto the bank of a wide, softly rolling river. The girls began taking off their dresses and stepping naked into the water. I stood for a second, stunned, unable to completely wrap my brain around the fact that a bunch of girls were getting naked, out in the open, and stepping into a river. To bathe, nonetheless. And absolutely unselfconsciously, at that.

  None of them paid me one single mind as they took their rags and soap and washed. They didn’t even look at each other. Obviously, this was something they did together every day.

  This must be the single women’s time to bathe, I realized, noticing no one else around.

  “Axw enob,” Jaaci called, waving me into the water.

  Well, I could stand here and remain clothed and filthy or get over my hangups, strip, and be clean. I ran my tongue over my teeth again, remembered the crusty termite guts, and opted to get clean.

  I fought the urge to cover myself with my hands and tried to act as if I did this every day. Stark white next to their brown bodies, I stepped into the slightly chilly river, my foot slipped on a mossy rock, and I slapped down on my butt.

  Inwardly, I groaned. Of all the times for my klutziness to come out, it had to be when I was stepping naked into a river. Leave it to me to make the grand entrance.

  A few of the girls glanced quizzically in my direction and then went right back to bathing. A few others let out harmless, good-natured laughs. And a few others just stared at me. What? Haven’t you seen a blond-haired naked white girl sprawled across the rocks before?

  No. Come to think of it, they most likely hadn’t.

  As soon as I could, I slipped into the water to hide myself and sort of swished my arms and legs around. I glanced down into the water and could make out everything to my knees. Below that, though, my legs disappeared into murkiness. “There aren’t any weird fish in here, are there? Piranhas?”

  A few of the girls gave me that same quizzical look, and I sighed. I wished someone around here spoke English.

  “Weos?” Jaaci held out a brown bar of soap and a rag.

  I sighed through a smile, realizing I’d left my soap onshore, and took hers. “Thanks. My name’s Hannah, by the way.” I pointed to my chest. “Hannah.”

  “Ha-na,” Jaaci tried.

  I nodded.

  Seeing as how most of the girls had finished and were getting dressed, I began scrubbing my body as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to be the only girl left in the water.

  A whistling in the distance had me glancing around. That couldn’t be a wild animal.

  The whistling got a little closer. The pitched vibrations sounded like something from an opera. If that was a wild animal, it certainly had talent.

  The sound came closer, and I narrowed in on a spot of jungle about twenty feet in front of me. From the overgrown foliage stepped Professor Quirk.

  He wore the same clothes as last night, only wrinkled and untucked. His hair stood on end, his glasses were foggy, and he hadn’t shaved. He’d either been up all night or fallen asleep in his clothes and hadn’t bothered to clean up yet.

  Segueing into a new song, he flipped a page in the book he held and continued reading. As he neared the river he briefly glanced up, then stepped onto a rock that protruded from the water. He stepped on another rock and then another, slowly making his way across the river, still reading his book.

  Halfway across he stopped and slowly turned in our direction, obviously realizing there were a bunch of naked girls bathing and dressing. Through his foggy glasses, he stood very still and stared at us.

  I crouched real low in the water to the point where only my head stuck out. Even then, I knew I had to be a beacon next to all the other girls. None of them seemed to even notice Professor Quirk standing on a river rock in the distance, staring at us.

  I opened my mouth to shout for him to leave, but something made me stop. I studied his dazed stance and realized . . . he didn’t even see us. Chapling looked exactly like that when he got lost in thought. And I knew from experience that when I got wrapped up into code, the entire world disappeared into nothing.

  Professor Quirk reached behind his glasses and rubbed his eyes before turning back to his book and continuing on across the river.

  I finished scrubbing away the termite guts and stood thigh deep scrubbing my hair.

  “Jyyzf,” Jaaci said.

  I opened my eyes and turned around. “What?”

  She pointed to my backside. “Jyyzf.”

  Twisting, I looked behind me. Something black and slimy was attached to my right butt cheek.

  What the . . . ?

  I twisted and looked a little closer . . . “Oh my God, a leech!” I reached for it—

  “Le!” Jaaci yelled, shooting through the water at me. She grabbed my hands and shoved them away.

  I jostled in place. “Get it! Oh my God, get it!”

  Jaaci held her hands up in a universal sign for hold still. She got down on her hands and knees and felt around on the river bottom.

  I jostled some more, blinking soap from my stinging eyes. “Get it!”

  She brought a small flat rock from the river and turned me around. Using the sharpest edge, she slowly scraped it between my butt cheek and the leech. I tried real hard to hold still, but OH MY GOD I HAD A LEECH ATTACHED TO MY BUTT!

  It stung a little as I felt a tiny suction release. She took the flat rock, sliced the leech in half, and threw both halves across the river and into a bush. I watched the pieces fly through the air, hoping beyond hope that thing was dead.

  I looked back at my butt cheek and saw a bloody trail. “What do I do?” Stitches? A shot? Antibacterial ointment?

  Jaaci took her soap and rag and motioned for me to clean the area. I scrubbed and rubbed so hard, I nearly took my skin off.

  With a laugh, Jaaci signaled for me to stop.

  As quick as I could, I rinsed my hair and beelined it out of there. So much for bathing in a river. From this point on, I think I’d rather be dirty and stinky.

  I dried off, dressed, and combed my hair, then followed all the girls into the jungle.

  About halfway through, we passed a bunch of guys as they made their way down to the river. Carrying soap, I assumed they were going to bathe as well. I caught sight of Parrot and waved. He gave me a small smile in return. I searched the line for Jonathan or Guillermo, but didn’t see them. Maybe the older guys bathed separately from the younger ones.

  I realized as I stared at the line that none of the guys or girls were looking at each other. With their gazes focused down, they silently filed past not speaking, touching, or looking.

  What the . . . ? How weird. I’d have to remember to ask someone about that. Someone who spoke English, that is.

  We girls exited the jungle back into the clearing. It was 6:30 now, and people were up and milling around. Children laughed and played with sticks, hitting a rock around. Behind the triangular-shaped huts, women knelt in the gardens, tending to the crops. Men gathered around the big ceremonial hut, discussing matters. Underneath the square open structures, elderly women busied themselves cooking over open flames.

  When did they all bathe? I found myself oddly wondering.

  It occurred to me as I watched everyone how historical this event was. At no other time in history had representatives from both North and South American tribes gathered in one place. I felt truly honored to watch history in the making. In fact, it gave me goose bumps. . . . Silly, I know. But it did.

  I followed the girls back inside our hut, where we deposited our things. Some of them filtered off to the gardens, others went to help the elderly women cook, and yet others disappeared inside the big ceremonial hut. I found myself standing outside, glancing around, wondering where I was supposed to go.

  I still didn’t see Jonathan or Guillermo. And Parrot would still be down at the river bathing. Professor Quirk was nowhere to be seen either, and I didn’t know how to get to the cave and the glyphs without him. Rather than stand h
ere idly, I made my way across the clearing over to the corral where the horses were.

  Smiling at Diablo, I held out my hand. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  In response, he did that cute horsey growl and slowly lumbered toward me. He nuzzled my hand while I rubbed his head.

  “I wish I had an apple,” I cooed. “I promise to steal one from one of these gardens. That is, if they grow them in this country.”

  “They do.” Professor Quirk stepped up beside me. “After breakfast we’ll head to the cave. Sound good?”

  I nodded and took a quick second to check him out now that we stood close. He’d cleaned up since I’d seen him at the river. He’d shaved and changed clothes. His freshly washed hair lay dark and smooth against his head. Through his clean glasses, I made out brilliant green eyes. He stood a little taller than me, lanky, but in okay shape. The kind of shape that came with being active, not so much from working out.

  “I saw you this morning,” I told him.

  He furrowed his brow. “You did? Where?”

  I kept my smile in check. “The river.”

  “When I was bathing?” he nearly squeaked.

  “No.” My lips curved. “When I was bathing. Or rather, when all of us girls were bathing.”

  “What?”

  I laughed. “I knew you didn’t see us. You were completely zoned out.”

  Shaking his head, he blushed. “I don’t even want to think about the scene I missed out on.”

  I couldn’t recall ever having seen a guy blush before. Well, except for Chapling.

  Taking some hay from a bin, I fed a thatch to Diablo. “So, how long have you worked for the IPNC?”

  “Five years. How long have you worked for the Specialists?”

  “Only a year.” I glanced over at him. “Quirk isn’t your real name, is it?”

  “No.” He smiled. “Is Hannah yours?”

  I stared at his smile and, oddly enough, thought he had the best teeth I’d ever seen. “No.”

  Quirk chuckled. “Some secret life we live, huh?”

  Pulling my stare away from his gorgeous smile, I gave Diablo another thatch. “Guillermo works for the IPNC, too. But you two acted like you didn’t know each other.”

  “We don’t. IPNC’s a big organization. Guillermo works solely in South America. I travel all over.” Professor Quirk turned to me. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  Personal. I shook my head, feeling a hint of nervousness.

  “How old are you?”

  “Why?” I teased. “How old are you?”

  One half of his mouth curved up. “I asked you first.”

  I smiled. “Seventeen.” I didn’t bother telling him I was almost seventeen. “And you?”

  “I’m twenty-three.”

  “So the IPNC recruited you at eighteen?” Almost the same age as me.

  “Good job, genius.”

  Playfully, I nudged his shoulder.

  “Yep, they recruited me the day I graduated from high school,” he continued. “They funded my undergraduate, masters, and doctoral studies.” He returned my playful nudge. “To be recruited so young, you must have a high IQ like me. So . . . what’s your IQ?”

  “What?” I laughed. “What difference does that make?”

  Quirk shrugged. “Mine’s one sixty-one.”

  “Feeling competitive, are we?”

  He managed to cringe a bit guiltily. “A little. So, what’s yours?”

  I didn’t answer him right away and almost decided to lie, but told the truth instead. “One ninety-one.”

  Professor Quirk got really quiet, and as the seconds ticked by, he silently stared at me through unblinking green eyes.

  I knew it. I shouldn’t have said anything. People always thought of me as a freak of nature when they found out my true intelligence.

  He swallowed. “My God, that’s hot.”

  [9]

  I took a step back. “Wh-what?”

  Professor Quirk took a step back, too. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Believe I just said that I can’t.” He shook his head. “I mean—”

  “It’s okay.” I laughed when it occurred to me I should probably be embarrassed or offended or something. But how could I be when this guy reminded me so much of me that it was purely laughable? Klutzy, glasses, tall, lanky, way too intelligent, and even the talking-backward-when-nervous thing. Now if he pulled out a lollipop, that’d be way too weird.

  He smiled sheepishly. “You sure?”

  “Believe me, I’m more than sure.”

  Parrot stepped up between us. “Morning,” he mumbled, reaching a hand out to Abrienda, his horse, and she came over to take the berries he held.

  “How’d your group bath go?” I asked Parrot.

  “Fine.” He shrugged, obviously still not in a talking mood.

  I sighed, starting to get annoyed with his quiet demeanor. If Quirk wasn’t here, I’d definitely say those exact words to Parrot. I mean, I know seeing Talon had brought back old memories, but didn’t Parrot trust me? Why wouldn’t he confide in me? That’s what family was for. I thought we had bonded back at the ranch.

  Turning, I propped my back up against the wooden corral and idly surveyed the goings-on around the village. A good solid minute went by as I watched everyone work, and my mind became curious. “I’m very interested in finding out how things work around here.”

  Professor Quirk hoisted himself up onto the corral, propping his boots on a low wooden barricade. “I’ve been here a week, and I’m just now figuring it all out. We’re on Huworo land, so everything that occurs here is based on their customs.”

  I plucked a piece of hay from the bin and chewed on it. “Even though there are fifteen different tribal nations represented?”

  Quirk nodded. “Out of respect they have to go by Huworo traditions.”

  Parrot turned, too, joining us in looking at the village.

  “When girls and boys turn fifteen, they are moved into one of the single-men or -women huts. They stay there until they’re married. Couples and families take up all the other huts. When a boy and girl get married, the whole village works together to build them their own private dwelling with a garden out back. The gardens”—Quirk motioned to them—“are maintained by wives and daughters. Meals, meetings, and festivities take place in the big circular hut in the middle.”

  The professor pointed to the open-square structures where older women busied themselves cooking. “The women cooking are those who have reached the age of forty and never married or women whose husbands have died. After they get done cooking, you’ll see them sewing, scaling fish, doing artwork.”

  “What do the men do around here?” I asked. It didn’t sound like they did much of anything.

  “Hunt, make tools, build structures, attend meetings,” Quirk answered.

  “This morning when we went to bathe, none of the girls and guys looked at each other.” I glanced up at him. “Why is that?”