She looked at me curiously. “Didn’t you see it? That’s how the fight started. Someone threw a bottle at Daniel, then everyone jumped in and …” she broke off, confused, as I backed away. “Wait, where are you going?”
“I’m going to get something. I forgot something. You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” I ignored her puzzled face as I turned and started sprinting back to the still-struggling crowd.
I pushed and shoved my way through the outskirts of the mainly male crowd. Most were fascinated spectators, all shouting in Samoan at the centre stage of the action. I’m sure I could identify mainly swear words. I was grateful for my height and solid build as I pushed through.
“Excuse me. Excuse me. I said, excuse me, let me through!” It was no mean feat to carve a path through the pack. Sweat trickled down my back as I struggled to make my way closer to the center field where I could see teachers trying to assert some control over the crowd. I thought I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the throng.
“Daniel! Daniel!” It was hopeless. Nobody could be heard over this madness.
I pushed further forward and finally broke through to the field, where I came to an abrupt halt. Now that I had front row seats to the action, I realized how dumb I was. Punches were being thrown. Several boys were on the ground while others stood in a circle kicking them violently. What was I thinking?
I looked around wildly, hoping for someone familiar. There was nothing but a sea of blue uniforms … and several orange ones being stomped on. I turned to push and shove my way out of there and a boy in blue tripped over my feet, turning to swear at the source of his fall. His tirade stopped short when he saw I was a girl. In orange and yellow. Unmistakable in a crowd. He smiled. It wasn’t friendly. My heart thudded over the yelling around me. I felt the now familiar heat flush growing within me. Oh no. Not here. Not now. I needed to get out of there. Now. Before the day turned red with fire and I couldn’t breathe with a heat attack. I took several steps backward and bumped into more blue uniforms that shoved me forward again so that I half-fell onto the smiling boy. I tried to push him away from me as the first wave of dizziness came. The world was spinning dangerously and the air in my chest was so hot that it felt like a furnace.
But the boy didn’t release me. Instead he leered. “Hey beautiful, where you going?”
He had a face pitted with acne and his school shirt was torn. Frantically, I tried to shake loose. “Please, let me through, I need to get out of here, please.”
My voice sounded frail even to me. I wanted to run but the heat attack was now in full swing. My vision turned hazy red. I couldn’t breathe. The panic rose in tidal wave proportions within me. This heat was way worse than any I had yet experienced. My legs gave way and I wilted against the stranger as others crushed against me in the still-hyper crowd. From far away I heard the boy laugh as he grabbed hold of me.
“Hey, are you drunk?”
All around us was shouting and frenzy. The thought of passing out and then being trampled in this crazed crowd only heightened my terror and I screamed, trying to force out some of the steam trapped inside me.
“No! I’m sick. Please, let go.” I whimpered. “I have to go. Please, let – me – GO!” He held me in a suffocating bear hug against him and I focused on his arms, willing the vice-like grip to ease. Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened - in fear, in pain? Instantly, he dropped his arms and pushed me away.
“Aargh! What did you do? You burned me!” Wild eyes filled with confused anger, he raised his other hand and before I could react, he backhanded me on the face.
No-one had ever hit me before. Pain exploded in my world. I tasted blood in my mouth. I swayed, but the press of the crowd kept me standing. Strangely, the blow seemed to dispel some of the hazy fog that dizzied me. Rage built. It warred with the whimpering pain in my face. I screamed again – only this time, with an anger so overwhelming it seemed the madness around me faded and all I could see was this vile … creature who had dared to strike me. I reached out for him, wanting somehow to wipe the smile from his face, when it happened. So fast that I barely registered it. A red flash of heat seemed to jolt from my body, straight for the boy’s pitted face. He reacted instantly. A scream more agonized than my own. His face in his hands, a hissing spitting sound like fat on a fire, tendrils of smoke curling around him.
I stood still in shock. Stunned. What had I done? What was happening to him? To me? It looked like his face was burning? But that was impossible … wasn’t it? I felt cold. Like all the fire had gone, leaving me shivering in the blazing sun on a field full of warring students.
“Leila! Leila!” The voice came to me from a faraway place. “Leila!”
Strange. Daniel stood beside me in the crowd, but his voice was eons away. He had a fast-drying trickle of red on his forehead. I tried to smile. To make my mouth form words. To tell him I was glad that he was alright. But that boy, that boy running screaming through the crowd with his face in his hands, he was burning. Burning. And somehow I did that.
I shook my head, trying to make the fuzziness clear. Daniel bent to peer into my eyes. “Leila, are you alright? Leila?” He looked around and successfully shielded us both from several scuffling students. “What did that guy do? Where is he!?” He shook his head. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Without waiting for a reply, he took my hand in his and began pulling me along with him through the crowd. Numbly I allowed myself to be taken, clinging to his hand, the one thing that was giving me strength. Daniel didn’t stop, even when we broke free of the crowd. He kept my hand firmly in his but, all the while, his eyes were searching the field as he muttered.
“Where is he? Where did he go? I swear, if I find him … Here’s my truck.” He brought us to a halt beside a battered green truck parked by the roadside and studied me anxiously. A cloud of anger darkened his face as he surveyed me. He swore under his breath, “Leila, are you okay – your face, dammnit! I’ll kill him. I’ll find him and I’ll kill him!”
Abruptly, he turned away and smashed his fist into the side of the car. I was too startled to be afraid. A couple of students walking past turned to look at us. A girl with a bruised face and a boy with bloodied knuckles, trembling with rage. Daniel stood still for a few moments, head hung low, his face averted from me, a slight tremor to his body.
Instinctively, my hand went up to touch the side of my stinging cheek, which is when I noticed the tips of my fingers were blistering red, like they had been burned? But that didn’t make sense. None of this was making any sense. With my mind still reeling, I appealed to the boy who stood beside me. “Daniel, please don’t be angry. I’m alright. Honest.”
Daniel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before replying. “Leila – I’m sorry – I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry that I asked you to come to the game. And then didn’t make sure you were alright. I never want to see you get hurt like that again. Ever.” He gently raised his fingers to delicately dance them along the vivid red welt on my cheek, pausing at the swell of my cut lip. The throbbing pain in my face was forgotten as I looked up at him. He looked very tired. And dirty. Dried blood crusted his forehead. And he smelled awful. Stale sweat and mud. I wrinkled my nose.
“Eww, you smell awful! And you look awful too. Never mind about me, what happened to you?”
His face lit up with that earth-stopping smile. “Well, don’t try to spare my feelings or anything! Let me think - I’ve just played a rugby game, gotten a bottle smashed on my head, been punched at by a couple of sore losers and then almost lost my mind trying to get to you.” Then his voice changed. “Leila, what were you doing there? When I saw you in the middle of that crowd, I almost went nuts trying to get to you. What were you thinking? I was sure you would have been with the other students by the road. You know, where it was safe?” his tone was accusing.
“I … I was … ” too chicken to confess I had been looking for him, I resorted to lying. “I was confused about where
to run. I got mixed up and couldn’t get out of there.” Better that he think I was a ditzy idiot than know I was slightly obsessed with him. “And then that Leifiifi boy, he got a little carried away with everything.” My voice died away as I remembered the burning and I quickly clenched both my fists closed, unwilling for Daniel to see what state they were in. He was more intent on the damage to my face though and didn’t notice.
“We need to get you some ice. Before that really starts to swell. You’re going to look like one of David Tua’s opponents after a fight.”
I smiled ruefully. “Thanks. What a comforting thought.”
He returned my smile and opened the truck door. “Come on, get in. I’ll give you a ride home.”
We were driving out of the Leifiifi School compound when a thought occurred to him and he turned puzzled eyes towards me. “Hey, Leila there’s something I don’t get. After that jerk hit you, what made him run off like that? I wasn’t close enough to see it all, what happened to him?”
“Uh, I don’t know. It all happened pretty fast and there were so many people crowded around us. One minute he was there and the next he took off.” I shrugged, anxious for something to change the subject. “So do fights like that happen a lot after rugby games?”
With his eyes on the traffic, Daniel spoke grimly. “ There’s been a lot of inter-school violence in previous years. In fact, there was a really bad incident a couple of years back where one school kind of went on a mini-rampage through town looking for students from another school they’d been fighting with. They threw bottles filled with gasoline at some students and one girl was seriously burned. Several of them ended up going to prison and so the government banned all inter-school sports. I was only able to play club rugby since the school didn’t have a team. This is the first year we’ve started up again. So a fight like this one is not going to go down very well with the authorities.” He threw me a quick glance. “I really didn’t think it would be dangerous for you to come to the game today Leila. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault. It’s mine for being such a space head. Besides, you probably saved me from getting stomped on ruck style by those psycho spiked boots.” I shuddered as I remembered the violent rucking during the game and how often I had despaired of Daniel getting up from one of the tackles.
I was grateful when we turned down the main road through Faatoia. My head was throbbing, my cut lip didn’t feel much better and my hands were really starting to hurt. Not only that but I was sticky with sweat and longing for a cool drink. I pointed out the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief as I got out of the truck. Who would have thought I would ever be so glad to see this house…
Daniel came out to walk me to the door but I waved him aside, worried that Aunty Matile would be home any minute. If I hurried, I could get cleaned up and dream up a suitable explanation for my bruises before she arrived. And make sure Daniel was way out of the picture of course. I hadn’t talked to my aunt and uncle about boys, but I was pretty certain that they wouldn’t like the idea of me showing up on the doorstep with one in tow. Even one as assured and mature as Daniel. We stood side by side in the drive, awkward and unsure now that it was time to part. He spoke first.
“I better get going. You make sure to get ice on that cheek right away. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He backed away and then stopped hesitantly, “Leila?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. Again. For everything today. Really.”
I tried to smile without moving my face too much. “Daniel, it’s fine. I’m fine. Really. See you tomorrow.”
Once inside, I let my façade of well-being drop. I felt like a ton truck had rolled over me, or like I had been at the bottom of one of those almighty scrums. I took a closer look at my hands – definitely burned. Little blisters were popping up on each fingertip. Where had they come from? How had it happened? I had no clue. My mind danced along the edges of possibilities I didn’t want to consider. That fire I felt within me. That awful furnace burning me up inside, had it been real? Had it come out somehow and burned my fingers? Even worse, had it burned that boy?
I popped painkillers with an entire jugful of water, before hitting the shower, forcing my swollen face to endure the cold spray in a vain attempt to hasten its healing. As I showered, I gave myself another mental talk. Stop it Leila. Just stop it. You’re NOT going crazy. You’ve had a rough day – but that’s all it was. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing else is happening here. You get hot because you have heat stroke. You’re not fully acclimatized yet. That’s all it is. I muttered to myself throughout my shower, relishing the tepid water on my skin, wishing it was the deep coldness of my forest pool that I was submerged in. That always seemed to work better at quenching the fire within. But now that Daniel had surprised me there, I wasn’t sure I could use that pool as my retreat anymore.
I sighed at the thought of Daniel. It was clear he felt responsible for what had happened today. But was that all I wanted? His guilt? Remembering how gently he had touched my face got my pulse racing. This was not good. Not good at all. Only six weeks in Samoa and here I was weak at the knees over the school Head Prefect? I groaned at the confused mess I found myself in as I fetched ice from the freezer for my face. I fell asleep with the makeshift ice pack still resting against my cheek.
I awoke several hours later to a dark and quiet house and a soggy wet cloth on my pillow. I could hear the radio playing in the far-off distance from the neighbor’s house but of my aunt and uncle I heard nothing. I felt vaguely better after my sleep, well enough to acknowledge the pangs of hunger gnawing at my insides. Without turning on the light, I tiptoed to the kitchen in search of something to eat. The clock announced it was 1am. I had been asleep for over eight hours.
Shaking my head, I made myself a clumsy sandwich with the ever-present chunks of bread, devouring it in a few hasty gulps. My lip ached a little but the swelling seemed to have gone a bit. Enough for me to hope that Aunty Matile would believe I had tripped and fallen down the stairs at school? Hmm…
I grabbed more ice. My hunger satiated, I wandered into the living room, wide awake now, my mind still dancing over the memory of Daniel – his touch, his anger at the source of my pain. On the dining table was an envelope propped against the salt shaker. Grandmother Elizabeth’s elegant handwriting screamed at me. My good spirits instantly deflated as I tore the letter open with dread. Oh no, what could have prompted the old lady to write me snail mail?
“My dearest Granddaughter,
It is my fondest hope that this letter finds you well. I can only think with dread of what manner of living conditions you must be enduring on that island. Please know that all you have to do is call and we can arrange for your return. I cannot pretend to understand your motivation for going to Samoa. I know you are grieving – as am I. Perhaps, you are finding solace in the land of your mother. I want you to know that I love you. And I loved your father very much. I am worried about you so far away in a primitive country with primitive traditions. Please be careful. Please come home soon. I was going through some of your father’s papers and found this photograph. I thought you might like it.
Yours truly,
Elizabeth Folger
There was a photo in the envelope. A couple sat side by side on a doorstep. Each holding a baby in their arms. The man was my dad. Painfully young and joyously handsome, he held one little baby in the crook of his arm. He wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead, he gazed consumingly at the woman beside him. She stared straight into the lens, unafraid and defiantly beautiful. Long hair hung past her waist. Her deep-set eyes dared the photographer to find a single flaw. She too held a baby. Casually. Half slipping off her knee. I was stunned. That was my father. And the woman with him must be my mother. I had never seen the photo before. But I had seen the woman. Many times. In my feverish, adrenaline-racing nightmares. Wearing a woven cloth, carrying a bone carved knife. The woman who every night was searching for me. The woma
n who’s exultant smile terrified me.
No, this can’t be right. I last saw this woman when I was only four months old. How could I possibly remember her well enough to be having nightmares about her? What’s going on?
Questions screamed in the night. Drowning out the bush crickets and the snickering lizards. Why had my father never shown me this photo? He had always apologetically explained that there hadn’t been many cameras around in his early Peace Corp Samoa days and what few pictures they had taken had been destroyed in the cyclone that had killed my mother. And yet here it was. A photo of my parents and me. But who was the other baby in the picture?
I stumbled back to my room with the letter and shoved the photograph into the bottom of my suitcase. Sleep was a long time coming.
Thanks to my being up half the night, I was almost late for the bus the next morning. I dragged a brush through my hair with one hand, while grabbing my backpack with another, books falling out on the hall floor as I bolted out. I was relieved to see in the mirror that a slightly bruised cheek was the only relic of my previous day’s adventure. I could hear the familiar grind of the bus gearbox as it made its usual u-turn at the end of our street. Uncle Tuala was reading the newspaper and didn’t even look up as he said goodbye to me. Aunty Matile was nowhere to be seen as I opened the front door and frantically waved the bus down to a stop. I had put on a pair of dark sunglasses and, unused to the darkness, I almost fell over the step as I climbed up, sending the two school kids in the front seat into peals of laughter. I poked my tongue at them, which made them laugh even harder. Sitting on the bus, heart pounding with my near miss – I couldn’t believe it had been so easy to escape detection with my bruised face. Thank goodness, because I would never have been so lucky if it had been my dad.
Telesa - The Covenant Keeper Page 12
