Detention in Samoa was a universe of difference from America. Like the stark contrast between maximum security and a ‘retreat facility’ for white collar criminals. Here, you got detention for coming late to school three times. Or late to class one time too many. Wearing sunglasses. The wrong color jandals. Speaking Samoan anywhere but in Samoan class. Or daring to put on lipstick. (It was tribute to Simone’s skilful application of ‘natural-looking’ makeup that he never got busted. Or maybe it was because he seemed to be best friends with all the girl prefects.)
Here, instead of sitting in a room doing homework or extra assignments, detention was picking up trash. Weeding the garden. Cleaning the bathrooms. Which were disgusting – before and after clean-up. Sweeping every classroom with coconut frond brooms and washing windows. If you got three detentions then you went on hard labor. I kid you not – that’s what they called it. This was my fourth time skipping PE class. My fourth detention. So my name was called out for Hard Labor .
Sinalei gave me her saddest look of commiseration. Tinged with puzzlement. She couldn’t understand why I – a girl who could outrun Maleko the running man – would want to cut PE and go on detention. I shrugged as I gathered my stuff and headed to the staffroom to meet with the duty prefects.
I was the only girl on Hard Labor. Most females here didn’t do anything bad enough to merit the extreme punishment. Three other students were waiting under the tree beside the staffroom. Two were juniors. Fresh-faced boys with pimples who were chewing gum and throwing rocks at the stray three-legged dog that liked to visit and forage for lunch scraps. My other fellow inmate looked considerably more threatening. He was a large, broadset sixth former who (according to the E-Channel, Sinalei) was repeating his senior year for the third time. Which made him about twenty years old. Or more. I had no trouble believing that. He had a snake tattoo on his neck, arms like tree trunks and an angry expression to match. She also said he’d been in jail for beating a man to death, but I didn’t take that seriously. Still, I chose to sit beside the irritating third formers. (No point testing the borders or anything…)
It was with a sinking feeling of dread that I saw the duty prefect of the day walk towards us carrying the detention clipboard. It was the Chunk Hunk. Daniel – I mentally corrected. I wanted to shrivel up and die. Just what I needed. To spend an hour doing whatever Hard Laborers did under the watchful eye of the demi-god. Was there no mercy in this world? I turned my head away, wishing I could make a break for it, skipping over my options. I could plead sickness and ask to be excused? Have my detention moved to another day where some other prefect could tell me what to do? But the thought of having to appeal to this know-it-all, annoyingly perfect freak made my pride rankle. Casting myself on his mercy would mean that I would have to talk to him. Nicely. Humbly. Beseechingly. And then if he excused me, I would be beholden to him. And have to say thank you. And be nice again when I saw him next. No. I was stuck. And my feeling of constriction was only intensified when he turned bemused eyes on me.
“Hey Leila. Hard Labor? What have you been doing to deserve the worst SamCo has to offer?”
I shrugged and tried to emulate his light-hearted tone. “Nothing.” I lied. “Just a few too many late arrivals.”
“Really? It says here, you’ve been cutting class umm, PE class?!” there was disbelief in his eyes this time. “Why? I thought you were supposed to be Maleko’s running nemesis?”
I gritted my teeth at the third degree. I was certain that other people didn’t have to endure extra scrutiny for their skipping shortcomings. I gave Daniel a dark scowl and turned my head to regard the green field, hazy in the afternoon heat.
The two juniors had been listening to our exchange with interest, glad someone else was distracting the Head Boy from their own misdemeanors. The other senior, however, looked bored. Like he had better things to do. Like getting more tattoos. Or looking for people to smash. Just because he wanted to.
Giving up on getting any other answers from me, Daniel half sighed and turned brisk and businesslike. “Right people, let’s get started so we can go home. Mr. Raymond wanted the grass around the tennis courts cut.” There was a groan from the juniors. “There’s some bush knives here but Leila, maybe you could weed the gardens instead?”
I prickled immediately at the assumption. “Excuse me? Why can’t I cut the grass too? Why should I do something different?”
The group of boys had turned and were already beginning to walk towards the tennis courts. They stopped to look back at me with raised eyebrows. The juniors in particular looked flabbergasted.
Daniel looked like he was struggling to find the right words.“Umm, it’s just that usually the boys do the grass cutting. You know they have to use the machetes?”
One hand on my hip, I bristled defiantly.“Yeah, so? Why can’t I do that too?”
“It’s a bit dangerous, especially if you’re not used to using a machete?”
“Of course I know how to use a machete.” The lies came thick and fast. “I’m sure it’s none of your concern anyway. This is supposed to be Hard Labor and all of us are in it, so why don’t you let me worry about my machete-wielding skills?”
Daniel’s easy shrug and crooked smile had me momentarily dazed. He was just so gloriously beautiful, even when he was supposed to be my temporary jailor, that it took my breath away.
“Hey no problem. ” he raised both hands in supplication. “You want to cut grass with them, then you go right ahead. I’m just here to supervise and make sure you serve your detention, that’s all.”
“Fine.” my retort was sharp. I walked over to the pile of machetes and picked up the first one in the pile. “So where do we start?”
Daniel took up a spot under the mango tree behind us. I ignored him. There were muffled sniggers from the juniors as they came and selected their machetes, shaking their heads at me. I strode over to the nearest clump of tall grass that hugged the tennis court. Once I got there though, I halted as I considered the black blade of the knife in my hands. Great. Now what the heck was I supposed to do with this? I snuck a sideways glance at the three boys spread out along the length of the court. They had stripped down to shorts only in the wet heat and I was envious of their relaxed gear. I hadn’t even started cutting grass yet and already I was sweating. I prayed a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening. Please don’t let me heat panic attack, please don’t let me get too hot.
I stood and studied the others as they swung their blades rhythmically back and forth, felling swathes of grass with each horizontal wave. It looked easy. You had to half bend your knees and bend at the waist to reach the grass, sweeping the blade along the top of it. Cut too low and your blade would meet the earth. Or some rocks. Which is what happened on my first swing.
“Yow!” The startled yelp was out before I could stop it as my blade cut into rock and there was a flinty sound of protest. The three boys paused mid swing to grin at me. Even the senior Mafia killer boy. I debated giving them all the finger but decided instead to settle for a haughty smile. Like I was having the time of my life. And I cut grass with machetes all the time. Back in Washington D.C.. Where people were civilized. I muttered under my breath as I took another swing. This time I swung too high. The knife slid along the grass with lightning speed unimpeded, and almost came to rest on the side of my leg.
“Damnit!” Because I had nearly sliced through my own leg, I was even madder. I took a deep breath and braced myself for another attempt. But a voice from behind me stopped the swing.
“Hey, hey! You’re going to hurt yourself there. Why don’t you let me show you how to do it?”
Daniel stood beside me, with a slight frown.
“I said I didn’t need any help and I meant it. Thank you but I’m fine.” Exquisite politeness.
“No come on, at least allow me to show you how to hold the blade properly? Just a little help before you chop your leg off. Or somebody else’s.” A wide gesture to the boys alongside me.
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br /> They hooted at that. The Mafia gangster straightened from his cutting to speak. Loud and authoritative. “Don’t be such a fiapoto, a knowitall, girl. He’s right. You don’t know what you’re doing. Listen to him.”
I was outnumbered. And in danger of chopping my leg off. I held the knife out to Daniel. “Alright, fine. Go ahead. Show me.”
His fingers brushed mine as he took the blade, sending a chill through me. I moved several steps away in case he noticed.
“Right. The important thing to remember with the machete is a firm grip and a relaxed stance. Bend at the knees and lean forward a little. Then let your arm swing loosely. You want to just start off lightly until you learn to gauge the proper distance. Too far down and you’ll hit the ground. Too far up and you won’t cut the grass.”
He leaned to expertly cut the still-untouched section of grass with several easy strokes. Even with his shirt on, I could clearly make out the tense and release of his muscled arms as he hacked at the grass with graceful ease. I swallowed and tried to find something else to look at. The birds in the trees maybe?
“Leila!” his tone was irritated. “You’re supposed to be watching so you can figure out how to do this, now come here. Your turn. You try.”
Suddenly I was tensed with shyness. All four males were watching. Waiting to see what I could do next to make their afternoon interesting. They would probably love it if I cut myself, I thought darkly, give them something to talk about tomorrow. I gritted my teeth and tried to copy the stance Daniel had shown me. I leant forward to take my first swing but again his command stopped me.
“Wait – not like that, like this.” He moved closer to my right side, angling his body to stand beside me, so our arms were in alignment. I tried to ignore his nearness. But it was difficult. I could feel the heat of his arm, the brush of his shoulder against mine. His voice spoke too close to my ear for my liking. I caught a flush of his breath on my cheek as he spoke.
“Bend your knees slightly, lean forward a bit, and let your body follow the swing of the blade. It’s not meant to be full force every time, every swing, you’ll tire yourself out too fast that way.”
His hand was on mine as he swung our arms gently in an arc, mimicking a cutting swing. I could smell his nearness; green grass, sweat and sunshine. It was sending my heat levels spiraling dangerously high. So, of course, the threat made me brusque and rude. Well, more than usual.
“I got it, I got it!” I stepped away from him and carefully tried to follow his instructions. Painfully aware of his scrutiny beside me, it was a relief when he nodded approvingly after several tries.
“Hey, that’s good Leila, I think you’ve got it. Just pace yourself and remember to focus so you don’t cut your leg off.”
I wanted to poke my tongue at him or toss him a well chosen curse word, but I thought I better not stop concentrating on the grass. The rest of the half hour passed swiftly in a rhythmic swaying and scything. Dimly I was aware of Daniel, taking off his shirt and joining us in the line along the tennis court perimeter with a knife, making our group five. I hated to lose my rhythm so I fought the desire to sneak a peek at his half nakedness. Instead I gave myself up to the pleasurable burn of exertion, my whole body at work, cutting long green grass on a golden afternoon.
It was a shock when Daniel called for everyone to stop their work. Time already? I halted mid swing with the others and straightened my back with a groan. Ugh, I knew I would really be feeling it tonight. My back muscles were protesting as I shook my shoulders to loosen them, walking back to the shade where I had left my bag. Daniel was dismissing us all. Everyone walked to the water fountains. Again I envied the boys their freedom as the slight breeze danced over their bare skin and they threw water over themselves at the gushing tap. I felt like a sweat-stained oil rag and knew I looked it too. I wanted nothing more than to get the heck out of there and home to a cold shower. Daniel’s voice beside me, startled my thoughts of Aunty Matile’s freshly made sweet lemonade pouring over chinking ice.
“So I bet you’re glad that’s over!” He stood too close to me. Still only in black Nike shorts, a shirt slung over one shoulder. There were beads of sweat on his arm, the curve of his hip tensed as he bent to pick up his schoolbag. When he shook his head slightly, a faint scatter of water came my way. “Oops sorry!” His smile was too genuine, too open to go unanswered.
There was a smile in my voice as I replied, “That’s alright, thanks. For your help today. I probably owe you my still-intact leg!”
He laughed. It was a warm, rich sound. “Actually all the boys are relieved they still have their legs to walk home on too, they were a bit worried when you started swinging that thing around.”
Beside him, the hulking senior heard him and agreed. “Daniel, I thought this girl was going to cut us all in pieces. Should never let a girl loose with a bush knife ay?”
They both broke into laughter. Which had me on auto attack immediately. I hated being laughed at. And I hated walking beside these boys when I was a smelly, disheveled mess. Especially not beside Daniel’s perfection. I tensed and shut my face down with a frown.
“I don’t know why you thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it – I may not have ever used a machete before but there’s no reason why I couldn’t figure out if given the opportunity. There’s no reason to be such sexist jerks.” The words came out colder than I’d planned, but they were already knifing through the afternoon before I could reclaim them.
The senior whistled long and low. “Sole Daniel, I don’t think this girl likes our jokes.”
I had quickened my pace to get away from them and Daniel had to place a hand on my arm to get me to look at him. My scowl was armed and ready, where he only looked exasperated.
“What is with you Leila? We’re just kidding, don’t you ever relax and just chill? I mean, first I’m a racist pig and now I’m a sexist jerk? Can’t you ever stop expecting the worst of people? You don’t even know me!”
His eyes were jade stones of accusation, his face stormy. I shook off his hand, jutting my chin defiantly as I replied. “No. I don’t know you. And you can be sure that I have no desire to. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get home.”
I turned and strode away, rigid with anger as I headed down to the bus stop. Ha. Boys! Even beautiful ones - who needed them? I missed my old school. At least I knew where I stood with girls. At least my annoyance with them didn’t war with an unwilling attraction to the glory of perfectly defined arms and a crooked smile.
At home, a cold shower didn’t do much to cool the heat of my afternoon grass-cutting session. With a sinking feeling, I realized I would need to visit the pool tonight if I wanted to pre-empt a heat attack. All through dinner with Matile and Tuala, I could feel the heat gathering, making it difficult to breathe in a kitchen drowning in the sweetness of Matile’s pineapple coconut pie. As soon as it was polite enough, I excused myself to go to my room. Another shower would be required before bed for sure. I worked on my homework assignment for Ms. Sivani while I waited for the sounds of evening to subside. Matile and Tuala were watching television and it seemed an eternity before they finally went to bed. By then I was breathing in huge gasps, the steam rising like a pressure cooker in my chest as I fought the waves of hot panic. Stay calm Leila, just breathe, you’re going to be alright, it’s okay. Stay calm, breathe, come on take deep breaths.
It was midnight when I slipped from the house, armed with a greasy mutton bone from dinner for Terminator. He was a wriggling bundle of glee at my gift and I whispered my pleas for quiet as I climbed over the back fence and ran lightly through the forest. I knew the path so well now that I could have found my way there blindfolded. It was a relief when I broke from the trees and into the clearing. Quickly, I stripped down to the basics, leaving my clothes hanging on a branch with my towel and walked into the water, accepting its wet embrace with pleasure. For a short while at least, I would keep the heat at bay.
It was always
a surprise how quickly the water worked on me. A few minutes submerged, floating in the murky night, and I would be me again. Leila. Not the girl who felt like she tiptoed on the edges of an incendiary explosion all the time. Just Leila. Just me. There was calm solitude in the pool. There was reflection. Here, there was safety. Sometimes, there would be tears as I sat in the pool and cried for my dad. Awash in the midnight, I would talk to the stars overhead. I liked to think that somewhere, somehow, my dad was listening.
Tonight was different. Tonight, my thoughts were filled with green eyes and skin that glistened with sweat, a tattooed arm, the laughter of a boy who towered over me in annoying splendor. I wondered what my dad would say if I told him about the Chunk Hunk and how he alternately irritated and fascinated me.
“Leila, you’re too hard on people, too quick to condemn them. You need to give people a chance, try to understand where they’re coming from,” was his advice after a particularly excruciating visit with Grandmother Folger. “But Dad, she’s so rude to you! And to me! I don’t know why she even bothers inviting us over for dinner when all she does is tell us how horribly inadequate we are.” His laugh, the way he would yank at my thick braid and toss an arm around my shoulders. “Leila, how could we possibly be inadequate? Look at us, who could find a more perfect pair? You – the friendliest, cheeriest, perkiest cheerleader I know – and me – the dream dad who’s never home, who in a year earns, oh, probably as much my brothers do in a week! We’re perfect, what could your Grandmother Folger possibly have to complain about with us?”
Telesa - The Covenant Keeper Page 8
