Sienna followed the cone of light her flashlight cast in front of her, keeping her eyes peeled for a narrow graveled path somewhere under the thick roofed trees as she trudged. Each step she made couldn’t bother the nocturnal animals—she was slow and vigilant, almost steady like a ninja.
She heard a rustle and pointed her flashlight at the offending sound on a bush. She advanced scrupulously, raising the handle in any case of an attack.
“Who’s there?” She demanded. Her voice was low but audible enough, and suddenly the prowler revealed itself—or rather, himself. She sighed deprecatingly, softening her stance. “Really?”
Peter revealed himself, his petite adolescent form emerging without an answer. He rarely answers. Even in the dark, Sienna imagined him standing tall and preeminent, but even then their height ratio did nothing but offend his sheepishness. “What are you doing here at this hour? It’s two o’clock! You’re not trying to get yourself in trouble with the crack heads around, are you?” he stammered bemusedly rather than as a concern.
“Your barkin’ up the wrong tree, kid, and were you trying to sneak up on me? Some kind of perv’ now, huh?”
“No! It wasn’t like that!” Peter quickened his steps as if to present evidence in front of a trial. “You know me, Taylor.”
“Real expert in disguising,” she told him sarcastically. “I bet you say to that to that dike you hang out with. On another note, Taylor’s my surname.” They passed a set of mangroves running along a cemented path. Some of the cement had been chopped off and greedily swallowed by the dirt. They were close.
He groaned. His breaths escaped as silver fumes in the bitterly cold night. “I would never do that to her.” He tugged on his jacket and stepped closer to her.
She unresistingly brought him next to her form, her sleeved arm snaking his shoulders. The freezing temperature was also getting to her, so apprehending his warming presence would doubt her inability to tolerate it. “Implying you don’t double-cross; you don’t deceive me, kid. But it’s no biggie. ’sides, I’ve seen worse cases of treason amongst everyone, myself included.”
“Like?”
“For one, Sam wasn’t her first kiss. It took me a while to gather intel, but apparently, it was a drop in the bucket. Turns out Mitchell had seized a lot of everybody’s first kisses.” The forest was starting to clear and she could point out a pasture of cornfields close by. Definitely close now.
The information struck Peter like a blunt knife. “Wait, Mitchell kissed someone, and it was a girl? I mean granted she is a dike, but I honestly thought it was just a phase of hers. She is already twelve so it could’ve been that I reckon.”
“You were hoping you could’ve had her first, hadn’t you?” They rounded a few broken paths, the distant starry sky becoming clearer.
“What! No! I wouldn’t, gross! We’re as close as surrogate siblings as far as it goes, you and I even; I would never forgive myself if I ever did that.”
The stars lined up and form a pattern bearing the shape of a bear. As grim and ominous the night can be, especially in a dark dense forest, Sienna always admired the heavenly bodies. She looked down at his small form. “But it never crossed you?”
Peter shyly gnawed at his lip. “I don’t know.”
“Are you sure…?” she asked him, infusing a “do a double-take” inclination in her voice. She gave him her half-lidded eyes, one not even Mitchell could top when it comes to sexy.
“Am I supposed to yes? Because you’re suggesting something,” he stammered sheepishly, a glimmer of childish hope in his eyes as he smirked.
For a moment, she regarded him thoughtfully. When they broke off from the trail, she grinned. “We’re here.”
He looked ahead and got a good look at their destination it shocked him. Graves teemed the dark stubborn soil and beside this fenced tract of land were a dilapidated shed and a broken church. Under the night sky, fiery orange torches glowed enough to illuminate the edges and corners of the enclosure. “Whoa… I suppose there’s no turning back for me, is there?” He glanced back at the eerie forest, not sure whether it was because he wanted to go back—or perhaps the cemetery had somehow captivated him.
“I only ever come here to wreck the place. Nobody else has ever come.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack.
“How many times have you been here?”
“A lot,” she said casually, lighting a cigar, “been here since I was ten and not a single brain-brawler had come to make me incur their wraths.”
“Wouldn’t that be cool though? Getting to fight the dead and all. I’d smack them with my bat. Whack! Take that!” He played around like a kid, his shoes tracking faint footsteps along the coarse mud.
“Maybe.” She blew a puff of smoke. Sienna didn’t really know. On one hand, it did sound cool. Peter wasn’t convincing her though.
~ T ~
“Have you seen Peter?”
Mitchell didn’t avert her gaze from the ceiling. Her deadpan tone was more likely caused by her craving for sleep. “No. He’s not in the vents?”
“We promised not to spy on the ladies anymore. Sister Menchavez warned us about that; I’m glad she did lest Sienna chewed me out, or worse: gave me a slap on the wrist.” Riley shuffled on his bed opposite hers. He didn’t bother to wrap himself in a blanket since the air conditioner broke two days ago. The same reason applied to Mitchell.
She tugged on her sleeveless, the rank sweat turning her already-skimpy shirt into some kind of inconvenient spandex. “Do I smell?”
“Ever smelled Patricia’s breathe? Probably as bad as yours right now,” he said accusingly.
“Come on. It’s only Sam whom I’ve kissed; everything else you’ve heard is a lie!”
Riley regarded her thoughtfully. “So if I ask Peter…”
With an impatient moan, she bolted for the door. “I’m gonna go look for him.”
“Wait.” Riley stole a longing glance at the empty bed between his and hers, Peter’s bed. “Where do you think he’d be? He’s just ten; you think he’d be off wandering out in the woods in the middle of the night?”
“Sienna’s also gone.” Even under the silver beams of moonlight, her figure was quite a view for him. She grabbed her cell and put on her jacket. She glared at him. “Quit staring.”
He shrugged it off. “This is a bad idea. Middle of the night, Peter’s in the woods probably alongside Sienna, Sienna I swear to you. Out of all the women I’d want to jump on me it’s definitely her.”
He went beside her as they quietly shut the door behind them. The second floor accommodated probably a thousand bedrooms so tiptoeing to the base of the stairs was exceptionally consequential if they messed up. Luckily, they reached the front without hassle. Mitchell flicked the switched on and let her flashlight guide them down the dirt path.
“You and your infatuation over women…”
“Every cloud’s got a silver lining, sis’.”
“I doubt yours.” A glint of anger was beginning to well in her eyes: she wanted to pummel him.
“I can’t help it; there’s like a dozen of them in that bicultural nursery back there, and a quarter of them are my age.” He turned around, gazing back at the large orphanage. “Come to think of it, none have ever been interested in me.”
“Oh. You think? That’s honestly surprising, and in other news: water is wet and the Pope is Catholic.” She pulled her jacket closer. The atmosphere set a pesky, nerve-wracking paradox for her: she was sweating, so when she finally stepped into the chilly night she hated it. What?
“Hah hah, nice try. You can’t josh me, Mitchell Blake, no matter how good you are at pretending.”
“I didn’t—do you honestly believe a single word they say?”
Riley shrugged as they cut through droopy mangrove trees. “Been picking up my ears and it’s not like I shouldn’t believe them. You’re a dike who looks for satisfaction, that’s all.”
“We’re basically friends or surrogate siblings,” she growled impatiently.
“Oh, I don’t know. Give it a few years…”
Mitchell spun around and stabbed a galling finger on his chest. This was her breaking point. “Look, if you want me to turn you into a dead little jackrabbit, you better speak up next time and I’ll make you run home to your mum! Sorry for my French, but otherwise, fuck off!”
She stormed off, leaving a contemplative Australian orphan under the bleak and lonely forest.
~ T ~
Peter balanced on one foot and his arms splayed out like a scarecrow. “Check it out!”
Sienna made a mental note about putting Peter to sleep early; his gleeful, carefree attitude was just deterring her from the mood of the cemetery. “Mhm. Wonderful, little guy.”
“Thanks.” He flushed. “So, uh, you never invited anybody? Not even Mitchell or Riley? The three of us would make great company! Or maybe you could invite others, like Sam or Patricia, maybe even Martia.”
“Peter, I don’t have time to colloquially mingle with those dweebs; I have standards.”
“Well, you got time for me.”
Sienna considered something for a moment. She returned back to smoking. Peter’s face looked strangely solemn. “Those cigars are making you sullen, Tyler.”
She stood from her spot and approached Peter. She plucked the cancer stick from her lips and blew a whiff of smoke on his face. He recoiled. “Ah! Hey!”
“That’s basically me not giving a shit, kid. Tell the others and you’ll make matters worse for yourself.” She spun around, stomped the cigar with one of her boots, and ambled towards one of the graves.
Peter approached her apprehensively. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, and I understand if you just want to vent or something… I know why you’re here.”
Sienna thickly swallowed. “Look, I didn’t mean to, kid. I just… want to look out for all of you. All I want is what's best for you and not hurting yourselves… you especially. You know that, right? It just gets so stressful… I mean, I probably would say yes if I were given the chance to take a long-ass break, but you guys… You’re worth it.”
They sat next to each other and gazed at the stars. Sierra took another drag. “Ever think the stars aren’t out-of-reach? Like you could grab ‘em and stick ‘em in your pockets?”
Peter shrugged. “That would be cool.”
She looked at him, grinned, and pulled him closer to her. “It sure is, kid. It sure is.”
~ T ~
Peter tiredly went through the front door, half-expecting one of the sisters standing there furiously (especially sister Menchavez). When that wasn't the case, he allowed himself inside and snuck back to his bedroom. Sienna halfheartedly stood by the porch, left to confront a pestering someone.
“Riley.”
Riley jumped with a shrill cry. “Uh, Sierra. Hey. I was just—”
To his surprise, she pulled him in and planted a tamed kiss on his forehead. “Get some sleep, kid.”
“Um. Sure,” he stammered.
Riley was conflicted. In the time he had to change into his pajamas and lay in bed, it took him long to recognize Peter. He smiled.
The door swung open. Riley had half-expected for Mitchell to arrive as soon as he had; it took her an hour or less just to get back.
Somehow, amidst the friction between everybody, they all slept a blissful, slumberous night.