Nobody Else to Tell

they aren't savages. at least, they know how to pretend they aren't.

i.

On the way back to England, the boys—all of them: Jack's and Ralph's: the bigguns, not the littluns (who are safely tucked away)—huddle together. Even now, after Piggy, after Simon, they can't get rid of each other; they don't want to be alone.

(And the sad thing is this: that tiny little island in the middle of the Pacific seemed less isolated than crowded England.)

ii.

Ralph and Jack avoid each other—when they eat, when they sleep, when they just rest in the room the boys have been assigned in: everywhere.

When Ralph looks at Jack, he sees a dying fire and a faded pink conch shell shattered into a thousand tiny fragments.

When Jack looks at Ralph, he sees a raging inferno and a faded logical boy shattered into a thousand tiny fragments.

(They will forgive each other, eventually, someday, but only when they can close their eyes and forget the shadows and the guttural screams of a pig as it is killed by wild boys with wild hair and wild eyes.)

iii.

Samneric are attached at the hip (still; forever; always) and whenever one of the officers make a fuss, the twins make a louder fuss and Ralph remembers that they really are just children—bigguns, but still children.

Eventually, Roger shouts, "Let them be! You're botherin' them!"

The officers grumble and swear but let Samneric be.

The twins don't say anything to Roger. But then, they don't need to.

iv.

None of the boys sleep for long. Even if one of them doesn't dream, someone ends up screaming (like babies, they all accuse. like littluns. but of course, they never mean it, truly.)

Every night, they gather on the floor in Ralph's room and dream of the night sky they left far far behind.

(The only part of the island that didn't stay with them—the only part they wish had stayed.)

No one ever says a word.

v.

The Lord of the Flies does not physically travel with them, but His presence is a constant in shadows in light in each other.

Not one of the adults will understand so the boys agree not to speak a word—about anything. They'll be sent to asylums and they've all heard the stories about people who go in and never come back, where death reeks around the mental hospitals and the homeless scream of ashes.

No, it is safer to pretend that nothing hangs over their shoulders and they're actually excited to go back to England.

(Once, Ralph tries to call England home, until he realizes that he actually thinks of the island and the conch and the bonfire instead of the larger island and the pavement and the streetlights.

Jack snarls at him, teeth barring, knowing that there's no going back now.)

vi.

Years from now, they will have pushed the island and The Lord of the Flies to the past (where it belongs) and their parents and their parents' friends will say such a sweet boy he is why i wish my son could act as polite as yours.

And every biggun will smile and thank the adults, stars in their eyes and blood in their hands and fire in their hearts.

After all, the adults aren't savages so they have to pretend they are not savages as well.