Page 2 of The Fall

Squeals of laughter outside disturbed their peace. Cat rose and peered out the window before shaking her head. “You’re on your own, Lulu. Amka and Panik are throwing rotten potatoes at each other.”

“That’s why I don’t want kids.” Lusa spread her hands, resting her case. Cat didn’t argue, but Lusa could tell she didn’t believe her.

The Weird Sisters, Hand In Hand

What is that?”

Looking where Pinga pointed, Lusa saw a building-sized ad for hardware upgrades. The display featured three people, each from the navel down, each with giant glowing appendages between their legs. Each with ridiculous names; The Stallion – for the fiscally prudent gentleman; The Clydesdale, for the connoisseur; and The Percheron – for those with the spirit of the Marquis. That last one extended to just above the kneecaps.

“It’s ugly as fudge, that’s what it is.” Sesi shot a grin at Callie. Callie gave a curt nod. It was absurd that Callie still insisted on policing language, but that wasn’t an argument Lusa was willing to engage in at the moment. Nor one she was going to win.

Her and Pinga’s first outing to Tyton was too tenuous to ruin. They’d been allowed at trading camps, where Lusa had had to endure Pinga staring at the trader boys, falling for their leaping and grunting and constant need for attention. But they’d never been allowed here. Tyton was dangerous. Lusa was on her best behaviour and ruining it with an argument wasn’t worth it.

“DocPod access must be getting scarce.” Sesi turned to Sparx. “Either that, or it’s not physically possible to make them that size.” Lusa still had no idea what they were talking about.

“You absolutely can make them that size” Sparx threw his arm across Pinga’s shoulders. “I ever tell you about the time I hooked up with a guy with two of them?” Pinga ears grew three sizes.

Callie kicked Sparx before he could continue the story. “She’s fifteen!” she scolded.

“Two what?” Pinga asked. Lusa was glad she did, because they weren’t getting any closer to an answer and Uncle Sparx never let a chance to spill illicit information slip away.

“Penises.” Sparx grinned wickedly at Callie. Lusa darted her eyes between Callie and Talia. She might not know what they were talking about, but that look always meant he was offending Talia and invoking Callie’s protection.

True to form, Talia tensed. Lusa caught Callie squeezing her hand. “You can’t kill him,” Callie whispered.

“I can and I will.” Talia muttered. She shared a knowing grimace with Lusa. Lusa rolled her eyes, hoping it showed solidarity with Talia and dismissal of Sparx’s nonsense. She might threaten to kill him at least once a week, yet he still drew breath. “You can help.” Talia nudged her with her hip. Her famous lopsided smile made an appearance. Crisis averted, for now.

There were few perks to being Talia’s favourite. She might have Sesi’s complexion, her hair and eyes, but she towered over the other girls like her. Between that and her easily bruised ego, Lusa tended to hang back rather than stick her nose where it didn’t belong. At least in social situations.

It didn’t help that Pinga was so outgoing. Inwardly, Lusa held a kernel of resentment. She knew she shouldn’t, but it was hard not to when everyone loved being around her. And Pinga relished attention almost as much as the trader boys.

Lusa preferred the company of adults anyway. And after a few too many violent outbursts, the adults who preferred her had narrowed to a select few. They might not have said anything directly to her, but Lusa could tell the other mothers didn’t want her near their girls. The way they’d glance at her from the side, stance guarded. Or seated nearby, ready to spring into action if Lusa slipped up.

Keep your head down, she told herself. Be faster. Be stronger. More responsible. Better. So far, that strategy of getting the approval she craved hadn’t yielded results. It only added to her growing ball of resentment, but she didn’t know what else to do or how to change.

Pinga, on the other hand, blurted out whatever came to mind. “What’s a penis?”

Sparx looked like someone had slapped him. He stared at Sesi, mouth gaping like a giant fish. When that failed to produce the desired reaction, he wheeled around and sought help from Calle. Callie shrugged.

Sparx thrust out his hand, palms up. “How does she not know this?”

“Who cares?” Sesi waved him off. “How many men are even at the Lake?”

Sparx wasn’t about to give up so easily. He turned back to Pinga, eyeing her like a schoolmaster. “Do you know what the difference between men and women is?”

Pinga looked to Lusa. She might be bolder, more willing to take risks, but Lusa could always be counted on to get her out of situations. Without her, Lusa would never do anything fun. And without Lusa, she would probably be dead multiple times over. Resentment aside, it was their thing, and so far, it worked.

“Men don’t have boobs,” Lusa mumbled just loud enough that Sparx could hear and not one decibel louder.

“And?” Sparx waited impatiently.

Lusa wracked her brain. Tornit didn’t have boobs. Neither did Uncle Siku or Cam, though he always wore something across his chest, so maybe? But none of the men from the trading camps did. Nor the boys Pinga liked to look at. And Sparx’s disappeared whenever he went from aunt to uncle. “Sometimes more hair. Or less, if they’re older.” She stared, hopeful that had been the correct response.

“They’ve seen nothing below the belt?” Sparx’s gaze flitted between Callie and Sesi. Lusa noticed he avoided Talia, who quietly seethed.

“I’ve seen Uncle Cam,” Pinga offered, entirely unhelpfully.

Callie massaged her forehead. “When did you see Uncle Cam without a shirt?”