What rhymes with orange?
I clutched the fruit in my hand. I loved the smell and the colour, but had always refused to eat them.
My sister raised an eyebrow accusingly, "Are you going to eat that?" She asked, I shook my head in response, Melissa letting out a rather exaggerated sigh.
It was the one last piece of food they had left in their stash, it reminded me of the Bible story of The Last Supper, one of the many riddles and rhymes that'd been drilled into our minds. I didn't remember all that much from the story now, only that someone betrayed another and got their friend killed.
Melissa looked about the forest in awe. The trees were green and lush, and a river flowed nearby. Everywhere she looked she saw peace and beauty. Far off, we could hear beautiful voices of the choir singing.
It reminded me of when I used to walk through the gardens at school with my friends. We never talked in the gardens because we were too busy admiring the daisies and marigolds planted about the side walks.
I had even seen a monarch butterfly once, perched upon a lovely flower with the glistening sun shining down upon it. I had always been hesitant around butterflies because when I was younger a small one had flew down my shirt while I was in the butterfly sanctuary with my Gram. But this butterfly was different, the beat it had flapped it's wings at was rapid and unpracticed, almost like he had never done it before.
These memories made me miss being home, so much so that the juice from the fruit came oozing out of the orange when I squeezed it a bit too tight.
Ralph groaned knowing it was our last piece of fruit from the basket and that we'd have to get more. I thought for sure he would make me do it since I ruined the last piece, however he didn't. "Piggy, take this basket here and go get some more fruit. Take that boy with you," he said pointing to one of the 9 year old boys.
"His name is Charles," I corrected Ralph and he smile sheepishly at me before he corrected himself.
"Okay, well Piggy and Charles go get some more fruit."
Charles burst up from his spot, happy to be of help "you know my brother taught me the difference between poison berries and red berries. You can tell which one is which by the-" he blabbered onto Piggy until they were out of earshot.
I giggled a little and went to go check up on Peter and his wounded leg, for some unknown reason Ralph followed.
"Hello Peter," I greeted while ducking under the large palm leaves that shielded him from the sun. "How's your leg?"
He smiled a genuine smile and proudly showed me his leg "real good, ma'am, I'm practically all better! I think I can go play now!" He tried to sit up until I gently sat him back down.
I further examined his leg until I determined "you may go join the others if you'd like-" he cut me off with cheering. "However! You should not go into the water, let sand touch the wound or take of the bandage. You could get an infection and then I'd have to cut off your leg."
"Ugh. Ok ma'am, thank you!" He hobbled away to join his friends who were busy racing hermit crabs down the beach. I turned back towards Ralph who seemed comfortable, sitting against the trunk of the palm tree. I sat complimentary to him and watched the kids run about, there feet pressing into the sand for everyone to see.
Ralph started going on about a story that I pretended to find interest in. I've noticed he survived by telling stories that couldn't possibly be true. But, they were as real as the sky was blue.
As the story came to an end I looked over at him "so the games tied 3-3 and coach looks over at me and says 'Ralph, I'm counting on you. Take your shot.' So I get out there and with 5 seconds left in the game I shoot the winning goal!" He cheers at the end of the story and I smiled at the childlike happiness.
"That's a real good accomplishment Ralph, I wish I had something like that to tell you." I couldn't possible tell him about the school garden or Gram and the butterflies. He wouldn't understand, at least not like Simon would.
"Not one memory?" He asked surprised "nothing?"
"There is no greater pain or punishment than memory," I sighed looking back toward the beach.
Lots of screaming was heard and for a second I thought I heard it wrong. But when I looked at Ralph's face I knew he heard it too. We both ran over to where Jack and Melissa stood, well actually they weren't standing. Melissa was on top of Jack punching the devil out of him while the array gathered around yelling "fight!" Over and over.
"Enough!" Ralph exclaimed but no one listed to him.
"He said enough!" I yelled and everyone stopped in their tracks. Melissa looked towards me, guilty, and I just shook my head.
"I'm not going to ask," I started, my voice wavering and I walked away. Ralph went onto the group about rules and repercussions while I just went to find Simon in his secret spot. If anyone knew what to say it was him.
