Excerpt: The Factory

He picks up my hand and holds it, palm to palm, his tanned fingers clasped with mine. There is only one way to describe it. In a town west of Baxter, I stopped in at a shop that sold curiosities. Unexploded grenades with the pins pulled out, corroded cans, glass worn smooth and frosty by primeval seas. A small black rock, jagged, and shiny like glass, sat in a wood prop on the front counter.

I picked it up, and the rock was warm, shocking. It was like a shot of rum, but cleaner. It felt like home.

“What is this?” I asked the burly guy behind the counter.

“Piece of meteorite I found in the desert,” he said. “It’s not for sale.”

That was what it felt like. Like going home, like something lifetimes old familiar.

“I’m just, so happy for this. To have a second chance with you.”

I never said you had a second chance.

The sky was almost all gray now, and Venus was showing. He looked at me, my eyes and my lips, closed his eyes and put his mouth on mine. I gripped the edge of the concrete fountain with my right hand, watched the shape of his face in shadow as his long, slender fingers brushed my throat. This was not what I expected. I did not come here to make out. The heat was like a silver cord drawn through me, a shiver of heat. I could not draw my mouth away. His lips were almost feminine in their curve, soft but not full, and very warm.

“Well,” he said, pulling away, tasting his bottom lip where I had been. “Damn.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” I was foggy, drunk.

“Letting me get away with that.”

“Come on,” I said, standing. I held out my hand.

“You promised me a walk.”

I was still in control of this. I was still smug, tough, and didn’t know anything, just like sharpening the edge of my knife blade until it sparkled.

Excerpt: The Factory

swale_by_pavellkid-d79jw6z

Swale by PavellKiD

 

 

The night she read aloud the story of Dinah and the Shechemites, looking up at me after each dramatic part of the parable.

“Now Dinah, the daughter Leah had borne to Jacob, went out to visit the women of the land. When Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, the ruler of that area, saw her, he took her and raped her.”

She paused to glare at me.

The story continued. Shechem wanted to marry Dinah. Dinah’s brothers lied and said he could, before slaughtering and looting the whole town and bringing back its women and children as prisoners. Then Dinah’s father, Jacob, was furious with his sons because Shechem’s people had a bigger army.

“So you see,” Mother says, “all the trouble that she caused, just by wanting to be friends with the wrong people.”

What had always seemed like love, her wanting to protect me, now sounded ridiculous. We had a tablet or two that we kept for writing letters and for schoolwork. That night I sat down and rewrote the story of Dinah, so that Dinah runs a spear through Shechem before he gets the chance to touch her, and the girls she went to visit said he had always been a bully and a rapist.

The next morning, Laurel had already been sent home on her own. I took a pack with a cup and some dried fruit and nuts and slipped through the gates before anyone could miss me, to see if I could catch up to her. The morning fog was still heavy on the hills, and I had forgotten my purple triangle.