Page 27 of Forever We Fall

“It’s a different set of the mouth, for sure, but spoken Japanese isn’t that difficult to learn. There are only thirteen consonant sounds and five vowel sounds. It’s grammatically regular, especially compared to English.”

“Spanish is harder to conjugate to me, but it’s not my native language.” I shrug. “Then again, I got a better grade in Spanish than English. So…” I grimace.

“You speak Spanish?”

“Mas o menos.” The glimmer of good memories warms my chest for a change. “Every year, my parents would drag us to a Latin American country to soak up the art, the food, the culture. My dad had a thing for art. My mom loved traveling. We went to Argentina, Ecuador, Mexico, Peru, and Chile.”

“Could you teach me?” He nearly hollers the question.

“Spanish?”

“Sí.” He beams at the one word of Spanish everyone in the world knows.

“Sí. Una condición.” I hold up a finger.

His head cants. He didn’t take the time to pull his long hair into the knot he usually wears at the top of his head. Several strands fall over the edge of his right eye. An eye that shines with interest. “What’s the condition?”

“You teach me Japanese.”

“Hai or sí or yes.” At the same time, he’s telling me he agrees to the deal in three different languages, and his hand shoots out to seal the agreement.

I stare at his hand and, for the first time since coming to this cursed land, I wish that I could reach out and touch his light caramel skin. When my uncle was coming after us, I reacted and shoved him toward safety, but that was his shirt. Since the horrors of my uncle, the thought of skin on skin makes me want to acid strip my own.

His skin looks smooth, kind, and beautiful. The immediate shivers don’t come, but I worry they will.

“Sorry.” Hota turns his proffered hand into a pointed index finger behind me. “This Macintosh desktop setup is the top of the line. It’s what I have at home. I love Macs, but their laptops suck. I got the iBook and Powerbook, and they only lasted a year. I hear they’re working to upgrade them. You know, make the next generation of laptops.” He moves past me to a row ofmachines. “Until then, I’d suggest this X41 or an Alienware if they have it and you have the cash for it.”

Hota turns back to me since I haven’t moved my feet. I’m too shocked that he’s not making a big deal out of my new phobia. “Come on.” He waves me forward. “Look at these two and see what you think.”

A well of emotion rises, stinging my eyes. I shuffle down, nod, and do as I’m told. Several minutes later, a slow-moving old man makes his way into the front of the store. He’s never heard of Alienware. We pretty much ignore him after that, and Hota runs me through the pros and cons of the available options.

“This one.” I grab a box from the shelf and head toward the register.

“You know that’s the most expensive option, right?” Hota whispers.

“Yeah, but you said it was the best one.”

He stops walking, so I stop too. His thick lips mash together.

“Just say it.”

“I don’t get the impression that your piece of shit, barely relative, is providing for you in any way other than torment. Hell, my parents…” His hand slaps over his mouth. He wipes the word away and tries again. “My dad has me on a tight leash. I can’t even afford that system. But I can help you if you need?—”

“I have it. Don’t worry.” I continue to the register and hand over the box.

The old man clacks some information into a desktop older than he is. Then he clacks some more. “That’ll be one thousand two hundred six pounds eighty.”

I pull a stack of bank notes from my pocket and begin to leaf through the thick stack of fifty-pound notes. After I pull the necessary amount and hand it over, the man goes to the back to print out my receipt and get my change. I stuff the remainderinto my pocket, and Hota’s gobsmacked expression catches my eye.

“What?” I whisper, looking left then right for the cause of his concern.

“What?” he whisper-yells. His hands go up and out like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. “I know you don’tdodrugs, but do you sell them?” He points at my pocket. “I haven’t seen that much cash, ever. And my parents.” His hands form quick fists. “Fuck! My father is rich.” He waves his irritation away and points at my pocket again. “That was like several grand.”

“Itwasalmost ten.” The damn wad almost didn’t fit into my trousers.

He gasps and then jumps, jerking himself into the air. “Why would you bring that much money with you?” His hands flare out again. “Why do you even have that much cash? How? Is it drugs?”

I hold my palm up. “I didn’t know how much I’d need. I’ve never bought anything except that clock radio a few weeks ago.”

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