Early praise for The New Life:
"…inventive and intriguing..." —Emily Macdonald, Macdonald Weekly.
"…interesting and original…" —G-Matt, G-Matt Journal.
"…a brilliant concept!" —Lyle Padilla, The MadTom Times.
Now, the story continues…
The New Life
a novel by Mark Robert Whitten
Chapter 2
The girl was just standing there, like some lonesome traveler afraid to enter a sacred place. She was staring at him, breathing hard, her filthy face carrying the slightest hint of a smile.
He was just about to shout his exasperation when his mother's gentle voice filled the silence. "Oh, hello." Jess half-expected her horse-tail hair to start wagging at the sight of the new visitor. She gently set the skillet down and brushed her hands together as she approached the strange girl. Ellie picked up the skillet and proceeded to serve the eggs as their mother greeted their new guest, stopping in front of her and offering her hand. "Who would you be, dear?"
Before she could answer, Jess jumped up and rushed over to her side; he had to get things under control before they both got into trouble. "Oh, um, Mother, this is, uh…" he stuttered to a stop as he realized he had never bothered to learn the girl's name. To his surprise, she stepped forward, accepting mother's hand.
"My name's Leslie, Ma'am."
Mother's smile widened. "Hello, Leslie. It's nice to meet you."
"Thank you," she said. "You too."
"So, Leslie… is there anything more to your name?"
She hesitated a moment. "Well, ma'am, my family name is Wilkins."
It was a lie.
Jess wasn't sure how he knew, but he was sure that Wilkins wasn't her real name. He didn't call her on it, instead waiting to see how everything would play out. He stole glances at his sisters to see if they sensed something strange about her. Brenda and Ellie had already gone back to eating and May Belle was too young to understand anything, so Jess realized he was alone in his suspisons; they either didn't know what he new, or they didn't care.
As Mother spoke again, Jess returned his attention to the meeting. His mother was gently shaking Leslie's slender hand. "Leslie Wilkins, then. Does your family live around here?"
Leslie shook her blonde head. "I'm afraid not, Ma'am." Her eyes turned down. "My family isn't... around anymore."
Mother clutched her dishtowel to her chest, her brown eyes filling with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Leslie. You can stay with us if you like." When Leslie nodded her thanks, mother added, "I'm Mary Aarons. You can call me Mrs. Aarons." Mother shot Jess a scolding look. "Jess," she admonished, "You should have told me you were bringing someone home with you for breakfast; I would have made extra."
Jess stammered and tried to come up with a way to explain what had happened, one that didn't make him seem a fool. Before he could, his Mother motioned towards the table. "We have plenty anyway, Leslie, if you're hungry."
Leslie smiled that annoying smile of hers and accepted the invitation. Jess sighed. He was relieved that everything gone smoothly, but, at the same time, he was aggravated that he would now have to share his eggs; there wouldn't be as many for him. Leslie had worked up his appetite in the duel, almost gotten him in trouble for being late and now she would be taking away half his food. He ground his teeth.
Leslie set down the sack she had brought and calmly sat in Jess' place on the bench. Jess sat down next her. Sitting directly across from him, May Belle smiled. Jess glared and her smile vanished.
As Mother sat, they bowed their heads to pray, giving thanks to the gods for the meal before them. They didn't normally pray at breakfast, but they had a guest so he figured they were supposed to impress her. Jess was hungry and in no mood to offer up thanks to anyone, but knowing it would do no good to argue, he whispered along with Mother's prayer, not caring whether or not he got it right. If he didn't, no one corrected him. The gods certainly didn't seem to mind. They probably weren't listening anyway. As Mother completed the prayer, everyone began talking, free from their obligation.
Without hesitation, Leslie snatched up his fork and dug into the pile of steaming eggs. She ate with such gusto that everyone else stopped and stared a moment. After watching her feast awhile, Ellie and Brenda shared a look before they set to eating as well. Leslie picked up Jess' full cup of cider and drank it down in a second. Mother refilled it and she drank half again. Mother laughed quietly at her guest's good appetite as she slid some sizziling strips of bacon onto her plate. Leslie absently grabbed the hot meat, burning her fingers. She jerked her hand back with a cry. Jess watched as she sucked her thin digits clean of the hot grease before taking another drink.
Jess stared silently as she cleaned her plate, the plate that was once his. He couldn't believe a girl as skinny as her could eat so much. As thin as she was, Jess guessed that she must not have eaten for a week. He looked up at the sound of his mother clearing her throat. She motioned to the plate before him. He thought she meant for him to give his eggs to Leslie. It took a moment for him to realize she meant he wasn't eating.
Having been transfixed by Leslie's gluttonous appetite, Jess wasn't even aware that there had been a full plate placed before him. He immediately set to eating and found the eggs to be almost cooled, with the bacon right behind it. He savored the simple flavors. Everything was delicious--doubly so, he thought, because of his hunger. He ate a full plate that morning and looked forward to the apples he had been promised for desert. Leslie was way ahead of him, cupping the apple in both hands as it was handed to her and crunching into it with a satisfied moan. He had never seen anyone so happy for a meal before. Jess reasoned that she must have followed him home for it.
Jess didn't like uninvited guests and he resented her presumption at having taken his place at the table—not to mention his food—but what bothered him the most was the fact that she was dishonest. Her name wasn't "Wilkins" and she didn't belong with them. Jess didn't know what her game was or what she wanted. He didn't trust her. He wished she'd go away.
As he watched Leslie devouring her apple, and took a bite of his own, Jess considered her clothing. He suspected she had stolen the vest, as nice as it was. He figured she must be a runaway—maybe a slave that escaped from some traders. Jess shuddered at the thought of what it must have been like for her under the lash. He considered himself a slave, but it wasn't really the same, as he was with his family and they treated him somewhat decently and made sure he always had enough to eat. Judging from her voracious appetite, Leslie probably hadn't been fed in a month.
He strongly suspected her impish grin had something to do with that fact.
The thought of what trouble might come from harboring a runaway slave gave Jess a worry deep in his gut; he didn't want to be taken away as a slave for repayment. His new masters would be swift and cruel; they would drag him away from his home and family and lock him in a cage like a dog. Then he and Leslie would be together all the time.
The notion was probably just nonsense, he told himself.
At least, he hoped it was.
Jess put those thoughts aside as he resumed watching Leslie eat. She probably wasn't a slave; she was too small for hard labor anyway.
Jess quickly slurped down the rest of his cider and stood to clear the table. His Mother motioned for him to sit while she and May Belle took care of it. Ellie and Brenda were already heading out the door to start their chores and Jess could hear them whispering to each other about his "filthy new wife." His ears were burning as he listened to the two of them arguing about who stunk worse, when they suddenly went silent. He turned around to glare, thinking they were staring at him, when he saw them back into the house.
Jess felt a chill run through him. The sudden light pouring in from the open door flap was blocked by a towering figure. Jess shivered at the sight. Father was home.
A tall man, their father was an imposing figure. His broad shoulders and calloused hands told of his life working the fields of other families and repair work in shops in Westwood. His tanned face was weathered, giving his visage the appearance of worn leather. Somehow, the deep creases in his features made him more intimidating.
He ran a calloused hand back over his short-cropped hair as he strode past his daughters. He kept it trimmed because of his recent work for the blacksmith. It wasn't good to have long hair around a large fire. Jess shrunk down on the bench and tried his best to disappear.
Then he remembered Leslie.
Father walked around the table, explaining to mother that a bit had snapped but he had another. He thanked the gods and picked up an apple from the bowl on the table. As he kissed Mother on the cheek and made for the door, he noticed Leslie.
"Who are you?"
Leslie stood, dipping her head in a slight bow as she smiled up into his harsh brown eyes. "My name is Leslie, sir. Leslie Wilkins."
Jess couldn't believe she was cheerful. It could have been no more shocking to him if she was happy to see a hungry bear. Father looked like he was about to say something, when Mother caught his arm and gently pulled him aside.
The conversation was hushed, but Jess knew what they were talking about: they were arguing whether or not to let Leslie stay. Jess wasn't sure how he felt. He thought for sure he would be hoping his father would send her away, but part of him hoped they would let her remain. His father argued about how things were and that they couldn't afford it and his mother pleaded that she looked about the same size as Jess and then lied that she didn't eat a whole lot. Jess tried not to smile at how smoothly his mother was handling his father. He tried even harder not to laugh at the recent memory of Leslie's "modest" appetite.
His mother then made one final argument; one so low Jess couldn't hear it. He could tell by the way his mother had glanced over at him and spoke more softly that she was talking about him and she didn't want him to know. Jess blushed at the thought of what she might be saying.
After a few more minutes, his ears catching only bits of words, his father turned to the two of them. He looked at Leslie. "I guess you can stay as long as you earn your keep." He turned his attention to Jess. "You get your chores done, yet?"
"Just about to," Jess grumbled. He wasn't so sure he liked the idea of Leslie staying. But then he realized it wasn't his decision to make.
Having finished breakfast, Jess left Leslie to help his mother with the household duties, and watched his father leave before walking out to the bean patch. He was alone at last.
Squatting in the patch, he looked around at the beans. They looked ripe for picking and as Jess grabbed the bucket, he reached for the first few. He paused as a shadow fell over him. Squinting against the harsh outline of sunlight, he recognized the silhouette of an all-too-familiar girl.
"What are you doing here?" He had made no effort to keep the sourness out of his voice.
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm supposed to help you."
Jess grunted. "Girls aren't supposed to work out-of-doors, Leslie." She didn't even know that much.
"Your mother told me I should come help you," she quietly explained.
He looked away as she knelt down beside him. She pulled some blonde hair behind an ear and smiled. As she reached for the bucket, he shifted away from her.
As they worked in the bean patch, he fully expected her to talk him to death. Instead, she sat quietly, performing the same tedious chore and saying nothing. He was glad for that. She sighed once, out of boredom, he supposed, and showed him a tight-lipped smile when he occasionally glanced her way, but other than that, she remained mercifully silent.
The wind blew through the nearby trees, ruffling her jaw-length blonde hair. Birds chirped in the early morning light, but still neither Jess nor his new helper said a word. As morning dragged on and the silence became unbearable, Jess considered speaking. He didn't know what he should say to her, but he did know what was on his mind. He wondered who she was and where she had come from, but, most of all, he wondered how she had gotten to be sitting next to him in the bean patch that day.
Deciding it was better to say something than to let the silence swallow them both, Jess looked over at the new girl and asked her the first thing he could think to ask.
"H-How did you get here?"
She started at his question; she hadn't been paying attention. Recovering herself, she cleared her throat and answered, "Oh, I, um… I followed you."
"So… you stole a horse?"
She frowned. "No, I ran."
Jess laughed, but as he began to realize her comment was serious, his laughter faded. He scowled over at her. "Fine," he snapped, "don't tell me. I was just asking." He plunked another bean in the bucket and looked the other way.
"I did tell you," she grumbled, "I chased after you."
He looked over at her. "Look, you've got to stop that; my family doesn't like liars."
She added another bean as her face soured. "I'm not lying."
It sounded to him as if he had irritated her. Jess smiled inwardly at having successfully annoyed the girl who had caused him grief. When he looked up at her scowl, he flinched; she looked ready to start a fight. He looked back down at the dirt and shrugged. "I'm the fastest runner in the whole area." He grinned at her sheepishly. "You couldn't have kept up with me." It came out as more of a plea than an argument and he found himself hoping she would accept it.
Her hand dropped a few more beans as she continued. "I'm pretty fast too, you know." She smirked. "Although I did have a time keeping slow enough to stay behind you."
He glared at her. "That's not funny, Leslie." Her smile didn't fade.
"Aw, c'mon, Jess, admit it," she cajoled, nudging his arm. "I'm much faster than you." She grabbed up a handful of beans and dropped them in the bucket as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. Then she smiled at him. "And I'm a lot better with a sword, too."
Jess' hand paused, hovering above the bucket. He still didn't believe she was as fast as he was, but he knew for a fact that she was better at swordplay; she had already proven it. He just couldn't understand her.
He looked around the patch for a few minutes, checking to see that they had cleared the area of beans. Seeing they had, he grabbed the coarse rope handle on the bucket, thinking about everything she had just told him. As he crawled across the ground, dragging the bucket with him, she followed and stopped in an un-harvested spot. They looked around and smiled at each other. They began picking and he asked her about her talents. "How come you're so good at it?"
She combed her unruly hair back from her face and looked over at him. "Good at what?"
"Swordplay. I mean you're really good at it—for a girl."
"The same reason I'm fast," she smirked, "—for a girl."
Jess shrugged. "You know what I mean."
She gathered more beans and tossed them in the bucket. "Hey, you're pretty good at swordplay, too—" she smirked again, "—for a boy."
Jess laughed. "Okay, okay, truce." She laughed too.
He wasn't exactly sure, but there was something about this girl, something important. He watched her silently as she picked beans and crawled around in the dirt. She did it gracefully; at least as gracefully as one could be while crawling through a bean patch. Even when she sat back on her heels, she did so with her back upright, not slouching, like him. She seemed strange somehow, as if she didn't really belong in this world, in the dirt. He didn't know why.
Whatever the reason, he felt a strange connection to her. It was if he knew her—as if he had always known her, as if it mattered a great deal if she was with him and that she was happy and safe. It mattered to him that he was there beside her.
Shaking his head, Jess put aside such silly thoughts; he had just met her. He didn't know anything about this girl, except that her name was 'Wilkins' and he was pretty sure that that was a lie. There was nothing special about her, he told himself—nothing at all.
All in all, she was just an ordinary girl.
But the way she moved, the way she fought, the way she sat, and the way she spoke, just didn't seem to fit with the image before him. She was just a filthy peasant girl, a nobody, like him. But she acted more like nobility.
Or royalty.
Jess almost laughed aloud at the thought of Leslie as a princess. It was madness; a royal princess, digging around in the dirt like a pig sniffing for roots. He let the images run free through his mind: A royal girl, meant for the throne, running away and becoming friends with a nobody like him. It almost sounded like a story that his mother used to tell him, about a princess who ran away to live as a peasant girl. She ended up stuck, with no way back and had to learn to live as a poor farm worker. In the end, she married a simple workman and was very happy. He had loved the story when he was little, but now it just seemed absurd. It was the kind of story that May Belle would enjoy.
Jess sat back and smiled. The Princess and the Bean Patch. The story sounded good to him and he decided to tell it to her when she went to bed. He pictured the look of wonder on her face when he spoke of the princess and of how Leslie was trying not to be found out.
She would believe him; May Belle believed everything he told her.
It occurred to him then that Leslie would be joining them that night and he hoped she wouldn't spoil the story by denying it. It would be fun to watch May Belle bowing to Leslie, believing she really was a princess. They would both have a good laugh that night.
As Jess watched her work, she glanced over at him. He realized he was staring at her and quickly looked away, hoping she hadn't noticed.
"Why were you staring at me?"
"I wasn't," he lied.
"Well, do I have something on my face?"
He shrugged. "How should I know?" He still didn't look.
She threw a bean at him. "You should know; you were staring at me for ten minutes!"
He peered over at her. There was nothing on her face, other than the thin layer of dirt. Jess wondered what she looked like without the dirt. He realized he was smiling again.
"No, there's nothing there," he smirked. "Just you're ugly face."
She threw another bean at him. It bounced off his head and landed in the bucket. They both laughed. She did it again and, before he could talk her out of it, Leslie had turned it into a game, bouncing beans of his head and trying to get them into the bucket. He held still and let her finish before telling her it was his turn. She backed away, telling him that it wouldn't work because she didn't have as thick a skull as he did. He grinned and threw the whole handful at her, the both of them laughing as she fell back with a shriek.
Jess laughed even harder at the wonder of it all; working in the bean patch had never seemed so much fun.
* * * * *
Lunch was served at noon: bowls of pottage filled with peas, carrots, beans, onions. Jess wasn't sure what else had been added to the pot, but it sure smelled good. The aromas tickled his nose with sweet promise as he sat down on the bench, Leslie at his side. As he glanced at her, he again noticed her unusual posture.
She was sitting with her back straight and her hands were folded in her lap. She seemed to be someone who didn't much belong on an old bench in front of a rickety table. She appeared perfectly comfortable but something was still off. Jess couldn't define it, but it seemed like she didn't fit with everything else in the room. He felt disoriented, as if he were watching a walking fish. It just didn't seem right. The image of her, despite her peasant garb and filthy appearance, just didn't seem to belong with their modest surroundings.
After a moment, Leslie noticed him looking. He quickly looked away and occupied himself with watching his mother and May Belle spooning the steaming pottage into their simple wooden bowls. He was sure Leslie would be watching them too, as hungry as she must be and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her blushing and he silently cursed himself for being caught; she would think he was staring because he liked her.
The truth was that he was beginning to think that maybe he did. Leslie wasn't like his sisters; she treated him with respect—most of the time. He wasn't sure why. He figured she must have had no friends and was desperate for someone to talk with. He smiled to her as he passed her a steaming bowl of pottage. As he stirred his own, he risked another glance. She was blowing on her first spoonful, obviously eager to get at the meal.
When she saw him staring this time, he didn't look away. He just smiled. She smiled back. For some reason, Jess found her presence calming and, at the same time, thrilling. He didn't know what she would do next.
He saw May Belle staring at the two of them, then. She was smiling too.
He frowned. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," she teased.
Jess rolled his eyes and went back to his stirring. He looked up again and saw his little sister, her plump face still staring and smiling.
He glared at her. "What?" he growled.
"Nothing," she insisted.
When he went back to his pottage, he heard her singing.
"Jess and Leslie, sitting in a tree…"
He shot up and chased her all around the room, circling the table twice before their mother chased the two of them back to the table with the help of her wooden cook-spoon. Mother thumped him on the back of his head as he sat back down.
One look to the side showed him that Leslie was trying her best not to laugh at their antics.
He smiled and tried not to laugh as well. Jess pondered her for awhile as he finally dug in to his pottage. What was it about Leslie that always made everything seem funny? What was it about her that made him smile? Where did she come from and what did she really want?
Jess decided it wasn't important where she had come from; all that mattered was that he was happy when she was with him and he was sure she felt the same.
As the day wore on, they moved to other chores. Jess was delighted to find that his new friend was good at everything and that the work went faster with the extra help. Leslie worked without compliant, doing whatever was asked of her. Jess suspected she would do all the work herself if he sat back and allowed it. He knew his mother wouldn't allow it, though; she wanted him working too.
By mid-afternoon, the chores were complete. Jess had rarely finished his chores before supper and he found himself confused as to what to do with the extra time. May Belle didn't know what to do either and as they were walking out of the house after they had finished cleaning up, Leslie broke the awkward silence. "Well, that was fun!"
Jess frowned at her. "Doing chores all day seems a pretty weird way to have fun."
"Well," she asked with a shy smile, "what's your idea of having fun?"
Jess shrugged. "I-I don't know."
Leslie continued her game. "Well... do you want to do something?"
"Yeah," May Belle, walking between them, chimed in. "Let's do something, definitely." She looked up at Jess. "What should we do?"
He frowned down at her, "You can't do it."
"Do what?" she whined.
"What we're doing."
Jess and Leslie shared a conspiratorial smile as May Belle sighed and walked back to the house. Leslie called to her. May Belle turned back but didn't smile as Leslie continued, "You want me to play dolls with you later?"
May Belle's grin was so big Jess could see the gaps between her baby teeth. "Really?"
Leslie nodded. "Sure."
May Belle's grinned widened even more. "Thanks!" She turned back towards the house.
As she ran off, Leslie turned to him. "You're lucky to have a sister," she said quietly.
"Yeah," he grumbled. "I've got four of them and I'd trade them all for a good dog."
Leslie rolled her eyes and sighed in longing. "I'd love to have a dog."
Jess looked back at the house. He thought about May Belle's rare compliance with his wishes and nudged Leslie. "C'mon," he whispered, "let's go before she tells my mother."
"Race you to the end of the road," Leslie exclaimed. "On your mark, get set, go!"
And just like that, they were off, running at full speed down the road, kicking up dust as they blazed a trail towards the open fields. Jess pumped his legs and controlled his breathing as much as he could, but he soon saw her doing the same. It wasn't long before Leslie pulled out ahead of him and began calling back to him to keep up the pace. He tried harder to catch her but she remained ahead of him the whole time, laughing and jeering him for his slowness. Jess couldn't catch her up and settled for watching the sunlight as it beamed down on them as they made their way across the grasslands.
As fast as he flew, he just couldn't keep up with her. Jess thought she must be part bird. She ran as though it were her nature, as if it was all she was meant to do and Jess was just someone trying to imitate her. He soon watched helplessly as she crossed into the trees ahead, resting on the first one she found. As he reached the edge of the woods, he trotted to a stop. Leslie turned back to him and smiled. She won the race. They stood panting, and she looked about for a place to sit. He gestured to a fallen log and she took a seat next to him. Jess clapped her on the shoulder. "You really are the fastest person alive," he managed between panting breaths.
"Yeah," she conceded, "but you're really fast, yourself."
He nodded his appreciation and swiped a lock of brown hair back from his sweaty face. As they cooled down, the two of them looked about for the clearing where their play-fight had taken place. Twigs, rocks and the occasional bit of stray moss covered the ground but they saw no indication of the tracks they had left that day. Jess began to suspect they were in the wrong part of the forest.
As he looked over to tell her, she suddenly pushed herself up and walked away.
"Leslie, where did you ever learn to fight anyway?"
She glanced at him, her expression a questioning frown.
"Sword-fighting," he clarified. "Where did you learn to swordfight?"
She shrugged. "Around" was all she said. She didn't seem to want to talk about it. He didn't think she would tell him and his father had told him that a person's past was their own business. His mother had told him that friends don't tell everything and that they can keep secrets if they wish. He sighed. They were right. If Leslie didn't want to tell him her secrets, who was he to force her?
As they made their way into the woods, he looked her over again. His gaze roamed her ruffled jaw-length blonde hair. It was a pretty color, golden like the sunshine on the wheatfields and looked to be as soft as the clouds but he wondered how it would look if it were all combed out, straight and orderly. Jess grunted. He couldn't picture her hair straight, no matter how hard he tried. He glanced down at her brown vest and dirty blue shirt. The same old stains told him nothing he didn't already know; they seemed natural, yet, at the same time, they seemed to be lying to him.
Suddenly, Jess knew why.
They were part of her disguise.
"Who are you, Leslie?" he wondered aloud. "Who are you, really?"
She turned back to face him. "Nobody," she answered flatly. "Just a drifter girl, tumbling around, looking for a place to live."
Jess didn't buy it. She had to have lived somewhere. Girls didn't just spring up from the ground like weeds. Judging from the dirt, though, he thought maybe she had.
He rolled his eyes and continued his examination. As he saw her pants, he noticed something odd. It seemed like something was missing.
The answer hit him like his mother's wooden spoon. "Leslie! You've lost your sword!"
Leslie frowned. "What are you going on about?"
He pointed at her hip. "Your sword," he repeated. "It's gone!"
She glanced down at her belt. "Oh, right. I guess I left it in the woods." She absently stroked her slender fingers over the spot on her hip. "I do kind of miss it."
Jess was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe a warrior of her skill and talent had just "forgotten" her sword. He put his hand to his hot face and let out a moan. "Leslie… I just don't understand you. How could you just 'forget' your weapon?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I just dropped it." She scowled at him. "I had to hurry to chase you, remember?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Oh, right. Sorry."
"Well," she sighed, "I can always make a new one. There are plenty of sticks around here to use."
He looked about. She was right. There were plenty of willow trees to choose from. Jess turned to ask which she wanted and found her missing. "Leslie?"
"Over here!"
He hurried and caught up with her as she crossed a slight ditch on a fallen log, her spindly arms extended to either side for balance. He climbed up after her. "Where are you going?"
"To find my new sword."
She worked her way to the center before stopping to turn back to him. She gave him a teasing grin. "When I find it, maybe I'll teach you to use it properly."
He gave her a sour look as she turned back to the forest. It was quiet, except for the odd chirping of a distant bird. It seemed a peaceful place. Jess was calmed by the silence. The shade was welcoming. It felt good to get way from the farm, with the hot sun and his pestering family. He felt as if he could truly be free in this place. As long as he was with Leslie, he was free. She didn't pester him or ask him for things. She just let him keep his thoughts to himself as they made their way deeper into the woods. Jess watched the twigs snap beneath her heavy black boots. He had simple leather shoes, but his feet were so callosued and tough he didn't need them. Twigs and rocks beneath his soles didn't bother him much at all. Leslie proabably had delicate feet. He felt a bit of pride in having an advantage over her. He kept the thought to himself as he followed her to a sunny spot. She continued walking and soon she stopped near a small creek, taking a seat on a large dark log. Jess climbed up next to her and sighed. He still didn't like what she had suggested.
"What do you mean you'll teach me how to use it properly?" he argued. "I think I do all right with a sword."
He waited for her answer. When it didn't come, he nudged her. She started and looked over at him, seeming surprised and a bit irritated by his bringing her out of her thoughts.
"What did you say?"
"I said I don't think I need you to teach me how to use a sword. I can do it myself. I do fine on my own," he said. "I don't need some girl to tell me how to fight."
This time she brought her full attention to the argument. She folded her arms and glowered at him. Jess saw her almond-shaped eyes narrow in menace. "What does my being a girl have to do with it?"
Jess shrugged, trying not to smile at having successfully nettled her. "I don't know; it's just that boys are better at this stuff than girls."
She frowned. "I beat you, Jess."
"Just once," he reminded her. "And you just got lucky, that's all." Jess knew she hadn't gotten lucky; she was much more skilled with a blade and he was hoping to find out why. She didn't seem to want to talk about herself and he figured he could trick her into it by appealing to her vanity. Jess knew from his sisters that girls were very vain. He scratched his head. "I-I don't think getting lucky qualifies you as an expert swordsman."
"Swordswoman," she corrected.
He laughed. "Lucky fighter is what you are."
Her frown melted into a fiery scowl. "I'm better than you and you know it."
Jess knew she was, but she still wasn't ready to prove it. He sighed and slipped his bottom off the log. "Well, I guess we'd better head home." He stretched. "We don't want to be late for supper." He turned to leave but Leslie's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"You're not going anywhere, Jess Aarons—not until I teach you a lesson."
Jess opened his mouth to say something clever, but seeing the fierce look in her blue-green eyes, he immediately thought better of it. In spite of her withering glower, Jess smiled inwardly—he had succeeded in gulling her and now she was playing right into his trap. "Alright," he said, trying not to sound too excited. "Teach me."
She grunted her compliance and released his shoulder with a shove. Her almond-shaped eyes searched the ground for something. Then she smiled. She had found a willow switch. Leslie plucked it up and twirled it in her fingers, testing it for balance. She swished it through the air and slapped it hard against a rock a couple times to be sure it was sturdy before she tossed it to him. He caught it and swirled it about as he made his way into the sunlit clearing away from the creek. Jess looked around for her sword but her voice made him stop.
"Come at me."
He blinked. "But you don't have a sword."
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Jess; just come at me."
Jess thought she must be crazy. He figured she was. Sighing, he realized she couldn't be reasoned with and he quickly obliged her. He raised his arm and yelling a battle-cry, drove his willow sword towards her in a headlong charge. He had just about reached her when something unexpected occurred: Leslie disappeared. She was no longer there. Jess hesitated. He felt her slender fingers grip his wrist. He cried out and tried to turn to see her. She moved with such swiftness he couldn't keep track of her movements and the next thing he knew, she had twisted the sword out of his hand and shoved him back with her elbow. He fell backward and landed hard on his bottom.
He gaped up at her. Leslie had the sword. She casually walked over to him and poked him in the gut, smiling at her easy victory. "You're dead."
He tried to get up but she poked him again. "You're dead again."
He lay there for awhile waiting for her to let him up; he didn't want to get poked again. Judging from the smile she wore, he reasoned that she didn't have any intention of ever letting him up, so he asked a question instead. "How did you do that?"
The question wiped the smile from her face and as she lowered her sword, she looked away. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I-I just… figured it out on my own."
"You're lying, Leslie." He shook his head. "You aren't telling me the truth. People are supposed to be honest with each other. If you want to keep the secret, fine, just don't lie to me again."
She seemed to consider this a moment. Finally, she extended her hand and helped him up. "You're right," she admitted. "I'm sorry."
She handed him the sword and sat back down on the great log. She motioned for him to sit next to her. As he did, she began speaking.
"I was born a servant," she whispered. "I was raised in a castle around others like me. They were all nice and the place was safe. I learned sword-fighting from the soldiers who served there as guards." She smiled distantly. "They taught me how to fight."
Jess was stunned. He couldn't believe Leslie was suddenly being honest with him. Her life story was pouring out as swiftly as the waters of the creek before them and as she spoke, Jess could almost see the images of her life in the swirling water. She continued telling him of her previous life, without any further encouragement. As she recounted her childhood, he listened intently, trying to catch the hint of any lie she might be feeding him. He couldn't unravel the tale she was weaving, but Jess detected the distinct thread of something left unsaid. He couldn't imagine what she wasn't telling him, but he didn't dare interrupt. She was being honest with him, for the most part, and that was all he could ask. After a time, though, he had to question something. "What of your parents?"
"My parents weren't… around." She shook her head, and then added, "The people at the castle took good care of me, though. But I was alone." She gave him a meaningful look. "You're the only friend I've ever had."
He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She smiled back and looked to the waters, as if seeing images of her own past. "I served a noble family for most of my life. I ran away because I wanted to see the world." She brightened with a smile. "Then I came here and found you." She hooked some hair behind an ear and shrugged. "That's all there is to my life."
That wasn't all there was, Jess knew. She was holding something back, something important. He didn't want to press her but there was something about her story that didn't make sense. He looked down at the stick he was holding.
"Why would the soldiers teach a servant girl to fight?"
The question was something he asked himself, but Leslie didn't hesitate to answer.
"They didn't teach me, exactly. I watched them and studied their movements. I learned a lot from them without them even knowing."
Jess smiled at her answer. It had a ring of truth. Jess imagined Leslie misbehaving. It wasn't hard. He wondered if she had been caught and how many times she had gotten her bottom switched for trying to learn how to fight. He smirked at the thought of Leslie having to pay a price for her victories against him; that seemed to make his losses to her seem less painful. Her voice brought him out of his private thoughts.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Oh," he stammered, "N-nothing."
He could feel his face heating as she folded her arms and glared at him. "Jess," she admonished, in a rising tone of voice.
She sounded like his mother. He rolled his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep secret his thoughts if she pressed him, so he hopped off the log and asked her to show him how she fought.
"C'mon," he begged. "Show me everything the brave soldiers taught you."
Her smile returned. She nodded. He backed away to give her room and as Leslie leapt off the log in answer to his challenge, Jess silently hoped she wouldn't teach him how they had switched her bottom for pestering them.
Author's Notes: Okay, you're probably wondering about the stuff at the top. That was my little way of saying "thank you" to some of my reviewers. I would also like to thank everyone else who gave me a great review, so... thanks everybody! I will hopefully have more to say next week (January 15th, 2010, if my math is right) when I post the third chapter of The New Life, so for now please accept my generic praise and humble gratitude for choosing to continue this magical journey with me and know that I am honored by your patronage.