Friday. In the afternoon we have P.E. At the front of the drum-shaped room Enforcer Tong has got an impeccable demonstrating some dreadful routine of punches, jumps and kicks. I manage to position myself near the back, next to Ilex. The two of us are not really built for sport.
‘Why do we have to do this all the time?’ I ask him in a pant.
Ilex’s mop of hair has wilted and a drop of sweat is running down his nose. He bounces a little closer to me so he can whisper without Tong hearing. ‘The Leader says, “Good bodies is good workers”.’
I suppose at the Learning Community we were pushed to exercise our minds instead. Funny how no one there ever bothered about our physical fitness, though.
I catch sight of Kay’s white-blonde ponytail whipping about near the front. When she kicks her leg she can touch her own ear.
‘How was the salon with Kay?’ Ilex asks me.
‘It was . . . good. Do you know Kay well? I mean, do you know a lot about her?’ I ask.
Ilex shrugs. ‘Not big lots.’
‘What’s she like? She seems to be into all this Reds stuff.’
‘Work harder!’ Tong shouts. For several minutes we can’t talk because all our breath is going into squat thrusts.
Eventually Ilex says. ‘She wants to be an Hon Red but . . . she’s not like Red girls. She doesn’t do all that . . .’ He breaks off from a star jump to an impression of a pouting girl flicking her hair and wiggling her hips.
I snort.
‘No talking at the back,’ Tong says.
‘Do you mean she’s nicer?’
‘Not nicer. Harder.’
Tong relocates to just behind us and we can’t talk any more, but on the way back to the grid Ilex says, ‘Are you all liking for Kay?’
‘No! No way. I just thought she could be helpful.’
Ilex smacks his lips together in a kissing noise and, for a moment, he reminds me of Wilson.
Actually, I have been thinking about asking Kay to come down to the salon again. Last night was the first time since I’ve been here that I’ve enjoyed a conversation. But for some reason I feel shy about suggesting it.
Finally, after dinner I follow Kay up to the dormitory. As she walks through the door she spins round and says, ‘Why are you all little-space to me?’
‘I, ah, um, well . . .’
‘What’s eyearumwell?’ she says.
King Hell. Why is conversation suddenly difficult?
‘Do you want to come down to the salon?’ I say in a rush.
‘No,’ she says.
That went well.
‘It’s Friday,’ says Kay.
Is that supposed to soften the rejection?
‘You know that Friday is Fight Night for big Specials,’ she says.
‘Not you then?’ I say. Kay is a good eight inches shorter than me.
She grabs hold of my wrist and twists it up behind my back. ‘Ha ha,’ she says. ‘Do you want to be my next win?’
‘After my big win last time, I hope I won’t have to fight again,’ I say. I’m acutely aware of how close behind me she is.
Kay laughs. ‘You didn’t do fighting last time. You did running.’ She drops my arm.
‘I don’t see why Specials should fight other Specials,’ I say.
‘You have to fight to get a ranking.’
I sniff. ‘I don’t need a ranking. What does some silly number prove?’
Kay looks at me sideways.
‘What?’ I say. ‘Inyway—’
‘It’s anyway,’ I correct her.
‘ Any way, you have got a ranking. You’re a one-one-er.’
‘Well that’s a relief,’ I say.
‘It means you have fighted one fight and winned one fight.’
‘That’s a good ratio. What’s your rank?’
‘I’m a seventeen-seventeener.’
I blink. ‘Like I said, doesn’t mean a thing, does it?’
‘It means things to Specials,’ she says and walks off.
Looks like an evening in for me.
On Mondays and Wednesdays the little ones fight, but it’s the Friday night seniors’ fights that’s best attended. Ilex says it’s not compulsory to go to any of the fights, unless you’re one of the fighters. But it seems that everyone else must enjoy watching Specials pulling each other
‘Why do we have to do this all the time?’ I ask him in a pant.
Ilex’s mop of hair has wilted and a drop of sweat is running down his nose. He bounces a little closer to me so he can whisper without Tong hearing. ‘The Leader says, “Good bodies is good workers”.’
I suppose at the Learning Community we were pushed to exercise our minds instead. Funny how no one there ever bothered about our physical fitness, though.
I catch sight of Kay’s white-blonde ponytail whipping about near the front. When she kicks her leg she can touch her own ear.
‘How was the salon with Kay?’ Ilex asks me.
‘It was . . . good. Do you know Kay well? I mean, do you know a lot about her?’ I ask.
Ilex shrugs. ‘Not big lots.’
‘What’s she like? She seems to be into all this Reds stuff.’
‘Work harder!’ Tong shouts. For several minutes we can’t talk because all our breath is going into squat thrusts.
Eventually Ilex says. ‘She wants to be an Hon Red but . . . she’s not like Red girls. She doesn’t do all that . . .’ He breaks off from a star jump to an impression of a pouting girl flicking her hair and wiggling her hips.
I snort.
‘No talking at the back,’ Tong says.
‘Do you mean she’s nicer?’
‘Not nicer. Harder.’
Tong relocates to just behind us and we can’t talk any more, but on the way back to the grid Ilex says, ‘Are you all liking for Kay?’
‘No! No way. I just thought she could be helpful.’
Ilex smacks his lips together in a kissing noise and, for a moment, he reminds me of Wilson.
Actually, I have been thinking about asking Kay to come down to the salon again. Last night was the first time since I’ve been here that I’ve enjoyed a conversation. But for some reason I feel shy about suggesting it.
Finally, after dinner I follow Kay up to the dormitory. As she walks through the door she spins round and says, ‘Why are you all little-space to me?’
‘I, ah, um, well . . .’
‘What’s eyearumwell?’ she says.
King Hell. Why is conversation suddenly difficult?
‘Do you want to come down to the salon?’ I say in a rush.
‘No,’ she says.
That went well.
‘It’s Friday,’ says Kay.
Is that supposed to soften the rejection?
‘You know that Friday is Fight Night for big Specials,’ she says.
‘Not you then?’ I say. Kay is a good eight inches shorter than me.
She grabs hold of my wrist and twists it up behind my back. ‘Ha ha,’ she says. ‘Do you want to be my next win?’
‘After my big win last time, I hope I won’t have to fight again,’ I say. I’m acutely aware of how close behind me she is.
Kay laughs. ‘You didn’t do fighting last time. You did running.’ She drops my arm.
‘I don’t see why Specials should fight other Specials,’ I say.
‘You have to fight to get a ranking.’
I sniff. ‘I don’t need a ranking. What does some silly number prove?’
Kay looks at me sideways.
‘What?’ I say. ‘Inyway—’
‘It’s anyway,’ I correct her.
‘ Any way, you have got a ranking. You’re a one-one-er.’
‘Well that’s a relief,’ I say.
‘It means you have fighted one fight and winned one fight.’
‘That’s a good ratio. What’s your rank?’
‘I’m a seventeen-seventeener.’
I blink. ‘Like I said, doesn’t mean a thing, does it?’
‘It means things to Specials,’ she says and walks off.
Looks like an evening in for me.
On Mondays and Wednesdays the little ones fight, but it’s the Friday night seniors’ fights that’s best attended. Ilex says it’s not compulsory to go to any of the fights, unless you’re one of the fighters. But it seems that everyone else must enjoy watching Specials pulling each other
Similar Books
