Ch. 7: Conversations with Cigarette Butts

"Ganon! Where have you been—oh, goddesses, look at you!" cried Aveil as I trudged through the door that night. She was at my side in seconds, stroking my face gently, automatically.

"What is it, Aveil? …Ganon?" Abenu asked, materializing in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes widened. "Ganon… your face!"

"Did you get into a fight?" Aveil asked me, her fingertips resting on what I figured was a bruise. I didn't feel like explaining, so I just nodded weakly. "Oh, boy," she muttered, emitting a sigh. "All right, then. Come with me. Abenu?"

"Yeah?"

"Go grab a washcloth from the bathroom and wet it. Cold water." Abenu nodded and Aveil ushered me into the kitchen, sitting me down in a wooden chair. Sirbe was there, sitting on the tabletop and staring at me.

"You have a black eye. Did you get jumped?" she asked, and it was obvious that she found it amusing. Thirteen year olds find everything funny.

"Sort of," I answered.

"Holy shit!" she cried, and Aveil sighed in disgust.

"Sirbe, we talked about using language like that."

"Yeah, yeah," Sirbe answered, flicking her short red hair off to the side. I suppose you could call her a tomboy, since she's always dressing in hoodies and acting like a dude.

Abenu appeared back in the kitchen a moment later, dangling a soaking wet washcloth from the tips of her fingers. Aveil took it, wringing it out in the sink before returning to my side. She combed my bright red hair out of my face and laid the damp washcloth against the tender skin there.

"You poor thing," she pouted, resting her hand on my cheek again. I closed my eyes and appreciated her closeness. It was like having my mother back, and these moments didn't happen often.

I heard the click of heels as somebody else entered the room. I didn't need to open my eyes to know it was Nabooru.

"Who was it?" she asked as soon as she saw me.

"Zelda Harkinian," I answered, and the room went dead silent. Then Sirbe burst into laughter.

"Ha!" she cried. "Ganon got beat up by a girl!"

"Don't be sexist," Nabs warned, which was ridiculous, because Sirbe's a girl, too. Sometimes I think that Nabs doesn't like Sirbe because Sirbe is more like a boy than a girl, and Nabs hates boys. Hates them. Hates me, too, I think.

Aveil just looked relieved when I revealed the identity of my attacker. "Thank Farore," she muttered. "I thought you'd had a run in with a gang."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Sirbe chuckled. "Remember last year, with Vaati? You got jumped on the corner of 7th and Main. They all aimed for your pants, and the two of you came home clutching your balls—"

"Sirbe!" Aveil cried. "Have some manners! Your little sister is in the room!"

"It's okay," said Abenu, who was giggling.

"Face it, Aveil," I muttered, my speech slurred from my swollen lips and cheeks. "The girl swears like a sailor."

"You oughtta get some sleep," Sirbe told me. "You look beat. Why'd she hit you?"

"I told her to," I answered.

"The hell'd you do that for?" asked Sirbe, helping me up from the kitchen chair. She supported my weight as we crossed the hallway, pushing open the door to my room and flicking on the light before dumping me on the bed.

"She was mad. And I was going to console her, but then I thought, damn, if I were her, I wouldn't want consolation. I'd want to punch someone in the godsdamned mug. So I let her. And it worked."

"What worked?"

"She… stopped. Looked at me. Said thanks, took our phone number—"

"Took our phone number?"

"Yeah," I answered, and I could feel sleep starting to wash over me. "You know. A number, with which to call our—Sirbe, I just realized something wonderful."

"And that is?"

"Everything's going to change and it's going to be a good change."

Sirbe just chuckled. "Are you high? You're high, aren't you?"

"I want to make her laugh. Or even smile. I've never seen her happy, Sirbe, never seen her grin or seen her eyes light up and crinkle at the corners… never seen her even blush, or heard her giggle, and… and I'm gonna make her laugh. I am, Sirbe, I am, 'cause I'd be willing to bet she hasn't had a proper laugh in years…"

"Who? Zelda?"

I didn't answer.

"Oh gods. You are high, aren't you?" she pressed. I shook my head again.

"Not high… Vaati tried to give me a cig… I said no, can't, because I was with Zelda and I…" Sleep was taking over like a drug, and I couldn't help but trail off. Even my voice felt weak, felt drained.

"You saw Vaati?" my sister asked. I gave half a nod, closing my eyes and turning onto my shoulder. Then Sirbe asked if I loved Zelda.

"No way," I answered. "Don't know her… I bet her smile's real nice, though…"

Something black took hold of me and I fell, fell into a slumber, the world rushing past me as I was dragged down.

The next day was Saturday. Thank Din, too, because I wouldn't have made it through another school day. Zelda essentially beat the living daylights out of me, and when I checked in the bathroom mirror that morning, I could see the evidence. My eyes—Abenu said they were amber, but I always thought they were just an ugly yellow—were asymmetrical, with one perfectly intact, and the other bloodshot and surrounded by a dark ring. There was a bruise on my cheek, too. I pulled off my t-shirt, exposing my shoulders, my chest, my stomach, my arms- all bruised. Deep purple marks where Zelda had hurt me. No wonder my sisters had thought I'd been jumped. I looked like I'd been in a gang fight.

I could see my reflection's face distort slightly as I realized something terrible. Bruises on me- well, yeah, they looked terrible. But I was thinking suddenly of the black and blue splotches the headmaster had probably left on Zelda's pearl-colored skin, and the image sickened me.

She was tough, that girl. Tougher than the rest of us gave her credit for. And not just because she could throw a punch.

I dressed casually again that day. It had been a week since Malon's bonfire, and I couldn't believe how long the days felt. I found my heavy black jacket waiting loyally in my closet, smelling strongly and satisfyingly of leather. Slipping it over my aching torso was instantly reassuring, and I left my school blazer- which I'd fallen asleep in- in a heap in the corner. Pleased with my appearance, I ventured out into the sunlight in front of the apartment complex.

I think a part of me wanted to prove that I hadn't gone soft, and I was starting with the neighbors. I wasn't the only one outside; the weather was warm this morning, and the streets were already pretty busy. Stiff brick buildings lined the streets, some of them ten stories high, others, twenty. There were a few dumpsters at the end of the street; I walked toward them. Upon closer examination, I noticed movement inside of one. I took a few steps closer, trying to block out the smell, and then stuck my head over the edge of the bin, peering down at the mounds of black plastic bags inside, each stuffed with waste. Deep inside the bin, laying on his back, glasses askew, was a tall, gangly boy. He had a shock of bright red hair, pale white skin, and a smattering of freckles.

"Gods!" I cried, reaching in and pulling him up absentmindedly. "What happened to you?!"

He pulled away and flopped back down in protest. "Shoo!" he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. "Go away! Pretend you didn't see me- I'm not in here!"

My shoulders slumped. "Wait. You're hiding? You mean... you weren't thrown in?"

"Believe me," he said. "I'd rather be here than out there." He peeked up over the edge of the bin, examining me. "You're Gerudo."

"Your point?" I asked.

"Well, she was, too."
"She?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Sirbe." I groaned as everything became clear.

"Did you call her girly?" I droned, and he nodded fearfully. I sighed. "Figures," I said, giving him a pat on the head. "Don't worry, kid. You're not the first."

"She threatened to throw me in the dumpster," he explained, leaning forward and throwing his arms over the edge of the bin. He sighed. "I figured that I'd just do the job for her. That way, if she finds me- which I hope she doesn't- she won't have to throw me in here. And so it won't hurt."

I scrutinized him. "You look about her age," I said. "You in her class?"

"Yeah. She gave me a wedgie once. She also called me a nerd, and pushed me in a locker."

"Imagine that," I mused. "Sirbe, a bully..." I turned back to the kid. "What's your name, then?"

"Shad," he answered.

"Well, Shad, a piece of advice for you-" I was cut off as Shad gave a terrified squeak.

"She's coming!" he cried, and he disappeared back inside the dumpster. Sirbe was at my side seconds later.

"Hey," she said. "Have you seen a real wimpy kid- pale- red hair- about yay high-" she gestured to a spot just above her head- "anywhere?"

I thought for a second. "I think I saw someone like that over there," I said, gesturing in the opposite direction. Sirbe gave a vacant nod, examining the scene behind me. Had she even been listening?

"What are you doing over here?" she asked.

"Taking out the trash."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not," she insisted. "Abenu and I took out the trash this morning." Her eyelids drooped in bored realization. "He's in the dumpster, isn't he?" she said flatly. Before I could stop her, she'd clambered up on top of a pile of garbage bags and had gotten a view into the dumpster's depths. For a second, I thought that she might pull Shad out and beat the crap out of him. Instead, she just sighed. "Nope," she said, and jumped back down onto the pavement. I suppressed a chuckle, supposing that Shad had submerged into the depths of the trash bags in order to avoid my sister.

"Whatever," she finally said, having grown bored. She jerked her thumb in the direction of the occupied street. "Everyone's talking about you," she stated. "None of them have seen you since you transferred, and now you're back looking like you got hit by a bus. They're all saying you went to jail or something. Better go clear up the rumors." She pointed toward a street corner a ways off. "Vaati and Majora are looking for you," she said. "Not a bad idea to start there."

I followed the trail that Sirbe had pointed out for me. Sure enough, the neighbors were all staring from the curbs or fire escapes where they were sitting. It was a different world than the one I had spent the past two weeks in; there were no sidewalk cafes here. There were no fountains, no parks, no sculptures, no outlet stores. Just slums, and apartments, and people on front stoops who had run out of places to go.

Kind of like me.

I found Vaati and Majora in the shade of an alleyway, sitting next to each other with their backs pressed up against the bricks. They were, for the most part, hidden from the light, but the glow of two cigarettes stood out in the darkness.

"Hey," Vaati finally said, catching sight of me. "See you've gotten rid of the dressing gown." It took me a minute, and then I realized he was referencing my uniform.

"Yeah," I finally said, unable to come up with a comeback. I sat down against the wall opposing the other two.

"Cigarette?" Vaati asked, and I turned down the offer just as I had done the day before.

"Nah," I answered, and Vaati just shook his head.

"Of course not," he muttered, a small smile forming on his face. "How dumb of me to forget."

I gulped and shifted my weight. I hoped that the other two didn't sense my discomfort. Finally, Majora spoke.

"Where've you been?" she finally asked, taking a long drag from her cigarette. For a second, the glow of it lit up her face.

The way she treated her body was strange but magnificent. Her arms and collar were covered with tattoos, and she had piercings on her ears, her nose, her eyebrows, and- supposedly- her stomach. Her hair was black, and she liked to have it streaked, and she always pulled it back in a tight ponytail, showing off her angular, but somehow attractive, face. She was muscular, and wore a lot of leather, and had a pair of clunky boots that she wore everywhere. I don't know. She just expressed herself in a weird way, and that was okay with me, because when we'd all been kids, she, Vaati, and I had all been the same.

We'd all been on our own.

And we didn't judge each other. We didn't care that Majora had turned her body into her personal canvas. Or that Vaati liked to wear his hair down to his shoulders. Or that my clothes were always tattered. We just accepted each other, and got into trouble together, and that was it. And then we hit high school a year later, and Nabooru started going to Hyrule City Academy, and Aveil dropped out, and we finally got out of the shelters and into our own apartment...

Another tangent. Sorry. Next time, let me know when I start telling a boring story.

"He's been scholarly," Vaati deadpanned. "Hasn't he?"

"He has," I answered quietly, and I could feel my friends' frowns cutting through the darkness.

"And who was he sitting with at Piper's yesterday?"

"He was sitting with... a girl he met last week," I answered. Speaking in the third-person was easier; it made this feel less personal, made it feel more open, more subjective, like I was just stating the facts.

"Does she have a name?" Majora cut in.

"Her name is Zelda," I answered.

"Zelda," Majora repeated, as if testing out the syllables. "Zelda Harkinian," she concluded after a minute.

"You know her?"

"Yeah. She's got a brother, hasn't she? Good looking kid."

"Um. Yes," I said."How do you know the Harkinians?"

I didn't need to see Majora's face to know she was rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows the Harkinians," she answered, letting out a puff of smoke. "They've been Hyrulian legend ever since their mother died a few years ago."

"I s'pose the wounds still fresh?" Vaati cut in, and there was something sick about the way he said it.

"You bet," Majora answered. "Word is that Old Mr. Harkinian still hasn't gotten over it. I guess it was a real blow to the whole family- well, you would know, Ganon."

"Yeah," I said quietly, unsure as to whether the mention of my deceased mother was meant to be condescending.

"How'd she die?" asked Vaati, turning the conversation back to the topic of Zelda's mom.

I heard Majora shrug, watching her cigarette glow as she twirled it thoughtfully. "There're all sorts of theories," she answered. "Some people say she was sick. Others say she got injured. I've heard everything. But mostly they say that she killed herself."

"Suicide?" I said, my jaw clenching up.

"No, dumbass, a tree fell on her," Majora droned, but the joke didn't amuse me.

"That's not funny," I said. "It's not funny. What if she really did kill herself?" I could feel my throat tightening up as I spoke.

"Woah. Calm down, Sparky," Vaati ordered.

"Don't just brush this off!" I said. "Are you serious? Do they really say Zelda's mom committed suicide?" I started to stand up, but Vaati's hand shot out in the dark, tightening around my wrist.

"Sorry," he said, but it sounded superficial. "I forgot you'd gone soft."

"What- I haven't-"

"You really have," Majora affirmed.

"But it's only been two weeks!"

Majora sighed. "Doesn't take long." I tried to leave again, but Vaati's grip on my wrist tightened.

"Listen," he said. "We're sorry. Really, we are. Right, Majora?"

...Hesitation. "Right," she answered.

My lips tightened and I couldn't seem to come up with a proper response, opening my mouth a few times, but allowing no words to come out. Finally, Vaati's grip slackened.

"Let's go do something," he said. "Get our minds off of this. We're still friends, right? Let's play basketball. At the old hoop down the street. I bet Sirbe's got a basketball we can borrow; she always does."

I sighed in relief. "Yeah," I said. "Sounds good." Majora and Vaati stood up behind me and we stepped out into the sunlight. We'd gone a few yards when they stopped me again, stepping out in front of me and examining my face.

"Holy shit," Majora said. "Your face-"

"Yeah," I said.

"Was it a gang?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," I fibbed. "Two gorons. Late last night- after Piper's- I was on the way home-" They apparently couldn't hear the lie on my tongue. Instead, they just grinned.

"You look tough," Majora finally said, punching me lightly in the shoulder. They continued the walk down the street. I trailed after them, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very different about all of this.

Different than it had been a few weeks ago.

In a bad way.

Finally, an introduction to Ganon's old "friends" and a little more about his own life. I want to be able to differentiate (shudders at the reminder of calculus) very clearly between Ganon's life at home and Ganon's life at HCA.

Hope you're all enjoying the holidays!

Next chapter: Ganon is reunited with Zelda, Link, and Malon while out to lunch at a 50's style diner. Cue the music. Cue the soda pop. Cue the awkward small talk.

Please drop me some feedback!