by The Awethors
* * *
Tip’s mother peered around the kitchen wall as they entered the house, nearly dropping the spoon she had been holding at the sight of them.
“What happened to your face?” she demanded. Shaking the spoon at Sri, she kept her wide eyes plastered on Tip. “What did you do to your brother? He’s…blue.”
“Sorry, Mom. Was supposed to hit his shirt.” Sri kissed his mother on the cheek, probably in an attempt to diffuse her irritation. “We’ll wash up for dinner.” He grabbed Tip, dragging him upstairs.
After scrubbing his face at least five times, Tip stared in the mirror. He pulled back his thick, red-tipped hair and studied the splotch. A huge circle of blue rested smack in the middle of his forehead with streaks down his face and into his hairline. Brushing the hair down, it didn’t look so bad. Not much he could do about it until time wore it away.
He bounded down the stairs to the small kitchen below to find his parents and brother waiting for him. Grabbing a seat against the wall, he avoided making eye contact with his father until he heard the snickering. His father had covered his mouth, shoulders shaking intermittently, and even the corners of his mother’s mouth turned up. Shaking her head, she handed him a plate of food. The dinner conversation consisted of polite requests for one dish or another. No one mentioned Sri’s birthday.
When everyone finished, his mother stood and started stacking the plates. Sri reached over and stopped her. “Not tonight, Mom. I’ll do it.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she turned her head away and nodded. She hurried into the other room, followed by their father.
“Do you want help?” Tip offered.
“No. Go ahead and do your homework. I may skip mine tonight.”
To the sound of clinking dishes, Tip trudged upstairs to his bedroom, flipped on the electric light, and pulled out his math questions. His teacher had assigned him more advanced work than normal for his age, which, for the first time, caused him to struggle. After starting and scrapping an answer several times, a possibility occurred to him and he tackled the question in a different way. He sat back and grinned when he had the answer. After a short time, sounds filtered into the room from his family turning in for the night. Would they be together for dinner tomorrow evening or was this the last night they’d all sleep in the same house?
Once it quieted, he crept down the hall to Sri’s partially opened door and peered through the crack. His brother sat slouched in a straight-back chair with his elbows resting on his knees and chin on his hands, staring at the wall. After a few minutes, he grabbed a mirror off the bedside table and held it out to the left side of his neck, shook his head, then returned to his original position. He closed his eyes and murmured something Tip couldn’t hear before dropping his head into his hands.
Tip leaned closer and nudged the door, inching it open with a squeak.
Without looking up, Sri said, “You can come in.”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…the door was open,” he said, slipping into the room and fiddling with his hands. “Did it…did the mark…”
He leaned back in the chair, one side of his mouth turning up. “Nothing yet, but it’s not technically my birthday.” He grabbed another chair and placed it in front of his. “Sit.”
Tip obeyed, sitting straight with his legs together.
After running his hands through his hair, where the tips were changing from purple to green, he sighed and looked at Tip. “If it happens, you’ll have to be there for Mom.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. Look, you need to listen.” He leaned forward and put his hand on Tip’s knee. “If the mark shows, I’ll have to leave. Mom struggled when Trul was marked and she’ll need you to stay close. No more running all over the hills and disappearing for hours like we do. Can you do that?”
He swallowed hard and bit his lip. It wouldn’t happen. It just couldn’t!
“Promise me.”
“You’ll be here tomorrow. I know you will.” Tears started pooling in his eyes.
“Tip…I need you to—”
“No. I won’t. You’ll be here.” He pushed back, knocking over the chair in the process. There was an odd pressure in his chest and his throat felt dry. “I won’t listen to you.” He ran down the stairs and out into the balmy night air.
He zigzagged through the box-shaped dwellings, their brightly-colored facades dampened by the moonlit sky. While the moon provided more than enough light to run without use of an electric torch, he could have journeyed by memory alone to the same open patch of ground where he worked earlier. He stumbled to a stop by the irrigation motor and wiped the tears from his face. Sinking to the ground, he wrapped his arms around himself.
When his eldest brother had been marked, Tip had been nine. Since no Liputs had been marked prior to Trul, he hadn’t understood the meaning and course of action the council of elders would take when they discovered it. He could still picture Trul’s body when it was returned and now Sri might be next. It wasn’t fair. Anyamae was supposed to be good and protective. Would she really take another brother from him? And if Sri woke with the mark, what did that mean for Tip in four years when his sixteenth birthday arrived?
He curled up with his back to the motor and rested his head on his arm. Despite the warm air, he shivered. His eyelids grew heavy, though he fought to keep them open. If he stayed awake, maybe morning wouldn’t come.
