Outrun The World

Chapter 9

He also speaks good English, and he seemed confident and comfortable with the language.

"Nato here is sixteen," Rica told them as they approached closer. "Don't let his monkey face fool you, he's a wide reader and makes great speeches. He's like, the only person here who reads. Everyone believes he's gonna be a politician someday."

"Tss, where's your brand loyalty? And will you stop panty-dropping our relatives? They'd love reading too, if they happened to learn how," the boy answered.

"Yeah, yeah," Rica surrendered. They really were cousins. Rowdy, but in a way that makes you want to pat their heads instead of slamming them against each other.

"You're a tall kid. You play sports?" He Tian asked.

"Basketball, volleyball, sepak-takraw. You know, stuff," Nato answered, like it wasn't a big deal. "We don't have phones so we get together every afternoon to play."

"Ooh, invite us sometimes," He Tian said. "We could use some fun exercise."

"Sure. if you treat us to ice water."

He Tian stuck both thumbs and when the agreement was sealed, they shook on it.

They stayed in a safe distance, sitting on their slippers so their short pants won't get dirty. Mo Guan Shan sat hugging his knees while He Tian leaned back, his hand propped behind him and the other resting on his left knee.

"Watch him carefully," He Tian said as Nato carefully heaved himself up the coconut trunk. The boy nimbly carried himself up, as if climbing the branchless tree was a breeze. "Look at those fingers. I bet he could crush a jawbreaker with his grip."

"Why are you suddenly the commentator?" Mo Guan Shan asked but he's watching too. The boy's fingers and toes could grip like it's the most natural thing to do. It reminds him of a lizard.

"I'm just saying, it takes years of experience. He has rough, calloused hands so he could grip like that without feeling anything. Your fingers are soft like a baby's butt."

"And yours aren't?" Mo Guan Shan asked, a little bit embarrassed by the implication of He Tian's words. Back when he was a kid, he had read that story about the most beautiful pair of hands. It made an impression on him because for a child, it was weird and difficult to comprehend. Of course a beautiful hand is a smooth hand with long fingers and pretty fingernails, unblemished and milky white. An old woman's rough, wrinkly hand was obviously the ugliest, but why was it called the most beautiful? Mo Guan Shan thought the king was just bullshitting the old woman, telling her her hands were pretty because she had worked and done so many wonderful things with it, like raising her children. He believed it was meant to make the old woman feel good about herself, for just a moment.

Mo Guan Shan forgot what made him understand the meaning of the story but when he grew up, he would feel insecure about everything, especially his soft and pretty hands. He automatically assumes that every person who compliments his hands was secretly telling him that he's got pretty hands because he's a worthless human being. He can't even kill himself successfully with those useless hands.

His eyes began to water and he groaned, burying his face in between his knees. The voices in his head and the embarrassing memories were making too much racket inside his head that he's suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to shout just to drown out the noise.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. . .!" Mo Guan Shan whispered between clenched teeth as he tightly closed his eyes. Even his nails were digging on his palm as he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.