“Buto wins!”the old man announced.
Her opponent thrust his fist into the air. “Ha!”
The spectators cheered in reply before crowding the old man for the spoils of their bets.
Rae lay on the ground, staring at a sky crisscrossed with clotheslines that reached between the low mud-brick buildings of Sakesh. Two mourning doves peered down at her from their perch on one of the lines, their heads cocked in curiosity.
A familiar shadow fell over her, nearly blocking out the noonday sun. Blood still pounded in her ears as the bullish, swarthy young man pulled her to her feet. “Come on,” her friend Omari said. “Up.”
“Better luck next time, eh, sweet lips?” Buto said with a wink, before turning to join his friends. They laughed and clapped him on the back before walking away.
Rae nearly chased after them, but Omari took ahold of her shoulder.
“Rae,” he warned.
“Curse that son of a dog!” Rae sent a piece of pottery flying with the tip of her sandal. The small pot sailed into a wall and shattered into a thousand pieces. Startled, the two mourning doves flew off in a flurry of feathers, followed closely by the remaining onlookers, who eyed her balefully before shuffling out of the wide alleyway. Rae and Omari were left alone, staring at the sad remnants of a pot that had never done anything to anyone.
“Are you finished?” Omari asked after a few moments of silence.
Rae swallowed, her fury finally drained. “Yes,” she said dully.
“Good. Can we go now?”
She glared up at him. Despite her own impressive height, Omari towered over her. His square face and wide nose made him look like he should be the one brawling instead of her. They were neighbors and had grown up together, having both been born during the Great War—though Rae was a season older and never let him forget it.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh, grabbing her pack from where she’d discarded it before the fights. They made their way back to the street, walking side by side. “Just don’t say it,” she added.
“Say what?” he asked amiably. “That you would have seen that throw coming had you not been blinded by rage?”
“Lions fetch you, Omari…” Rae said, shoving him. “I told you not to say it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Omari replied, his tone mocking. “I forgot that you’d rather fill your ears with dirt than wisdom.” He grinned. “You know Buto only baits you because you always bite.”
“But Omari,” Rae argued, “He so deserves to be bitten.”
She followed him onto the crowded, noisy street, which was filled with merchants hollering about their meager wares, womenwith skinny babies balanced on their hips, and men leading oxen laden with cargo. The air was thick with the smells of roasting meat, animal dung, and sweat.
Omari said nothing for a few minutes, his eyebrows raised in that how-many-times-have-I-told-you expression that infuriated her.
“Oh fine, fine!” Rae finally said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I was wrong. You were right. Is that what you want to hear?”
Omari closed his eyes, blissful. “Say it again… slower this time.”
“Ugh,” Rae said with disgust. “The point is, next time, I won’t take the bait. Happy?”
Omari chuckled. “Next time…” He shook his head. “You’re really going to keep doing this, Ay?”
Rae smiled at the nickname he’d used for her since childhood.Donkey.She’d always been stubborn—butting heads with the bigger boys even then.
“Why shouldn’t I? It helps calm my savage mind. Imagine what I’d be like if I stopped?”
“You’d be unbearable, I’m sure. Still, there are other ways of channeling your fury.” Omari looked pointedly at her fat lip.
Rae licked her mouth and tasted blood. She swiped it away. “What other ways?”
Omari was thoughtful as they walked. Then he said, “I need to stop at the weavers’ workshop before we go back home.”
He didn’t answer my question, Rae noticed, but let it go. She glanced up at the position of the sun and sucked her teeth. “Not for too long, I hope. I have to help Father finish harvesting before sunset. He’ll soon be wondering about me.”
