Dominion

The Gold Star and the Mangrove

Jack sits on the dry beach just above the reach of the waves, watching Marie and Havel scour the shoreline in search of stand-out rocks and shells. Marie had told them about what she heard Phineas and MaryAnne talking about on the porch that morning. Of course, she is too young to fully understand the delicacy of which they were speaking and hadn't even listened to the entire conversation—as she was preoccupied with a hermit crab that originally led her under the cabin. But what Marie had heard, and recalled to her siblings, was what their grandfather warned about the jungle. He said something took Grandma, she tells them.
    For Marie and Havel, the conversation came and went. They speak about it for some time, brewing theories and imaginative conclusions. But they grow bored with the subject and go off to collect rocks. However, the topic floats with Jack like a balloon tied to his collar.        
Occasionally checking over his shoulder, Jack finds himself feeling unjustifiably alone in his curiosity.
    "Do you think we should ask Grandpa about the jungle? Or maybe we could just go and look?" Jack ponders, trying to rehash the conversation.
    His attempt proves useless — they go on collecting without even batting an eye. The ocean rides up and down the beach, colliding and surrounding the children up to their ankles. Pulling and distributing fresh shells with every wave.
    "Remember? Mother said we can't go in the jungle," Marie responds after a reserved moment, fumbling with an assortment of shells and rocks in her little hands.
    "Aren't you interested at all?" Jack challenges, standing up.
They both ignore him. Not out of spite or lack of curiosity, but because of Jack's history of mischievous acts and schemes, actions that always seem to end in punishment.
    Havel has grown to be especially inclined to avoid all of Jack's plans, as they usually involve him as a significant instrument of deceit, destruction, or denial. Sometimes all three.

    Once, around a year ago, Mrs. Zarate had given the boys an assignment for their homeschooling. They were tasked with painting a small piece of clay tile to resemble Mexican Talavera, as they were learning about art from different cultures around the world. This was the last project of the unit, and Mrs. Zarate told them whoever's tile was most colorful and cleanly painted would receive a golden star on their report card and a candy bar.
    Zarate saw this system as a way of teaching her children the rewards of hard work, thus influencing them to do their best. What she hadn't realized when constructing the system, and failed to notice in the months she had been incorporating it, was the facilitation of a bitter rivalry between the boys.
    Havel and Jack worked in the same room. They would consider each other's progress when they got a chance as they worked toward their strict due date. If they didn't finish by this date, Zarate would disqualify them from winning the gold star. Over the two days they were given to complete the painting, Jack noticed Havel's tile was remarkably better than his.
    On the last day, Jack decided to work in the garage, away from Havel. In the garage, he had coated his dark red finished tile in a polyester gloss that, when dried, gave his piece a luster and made it feel smooth to the touch, as opposed to the original chalky texture it had. When Havel saw Jack's tile, he begged Jack to reveal his secret. So, all according to his plan, Jack smiled wide when pouring paint thinner into a small mason jar to bring it to Havel.
     "This is what you need," Jack advised, "just paint it on fast and leave it."
     "How long do I leave it?" Havel excitedly asked.
    "Just one hour, but no longer," Jack told him, "or it will be ruined."
    Havel joyously lathered the paint thinner onto his neat, complexly painted tile and left it on his window sill in the sun. Havel's tile was a brilliant green color, as green had always been his favorite color.
    Jack proceeded to distract Havel with as many fun activities as he could conceptualize for as long as he could. He challenged Havel to race him, they played jokes on their sister, played tag, hide and seek, and in a desperate moment when Jack could no longer think of anything fun, he timed who could balance the longest on one leg. All the while, Havel was floating in awe at how much fun they were having.
     It was then, two hours and fifteen minutes later, Havel's dream ended as he balanced his right leg.
    "Oh no! My tile!" Havel panicked.
    He ran off into the house, leaving Jack standing confidently behind.
    Jack felt victorious, but he was not without morals. When he saw Havel sobbing over his paint-cleaned tile, he felt remorse, but not enough to come clean. He kneeled next to Havel and put his arm around his shoulders.
     "I'm sorry this happened, Havel. I told you one hour, remember? This is what happens."
     Havel cried for a while longer but wiped his snot and tears on a handkerchief and began repainting. It was already six, but he worked on his tile into the night—even having to pretend he went to sleep when his mother came to check on them.
     In the morning, when homeschooling commenced, they turned their tiles in. Jack's was cleanly painted and glossed, while Havel's tile was an unorganized mess he prepared in the dark. Jack got the star.
    It wasn't long before Mrs. Zarate had to abandon the system out of pity when Havel seemed to rarely get a star, and Jack managed to keep corrupting it.