SICK HEART by Huss, JA (nice books to read TXT) 📗

lightens my heart a little. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe Rasha does have it in her to go all the way? Maybe she will be the first girl to ever make it into the Ring of Fire?

I hope so. And that hope is both sad and good at the same time.

Life is a tradeoff.

You can make it all the way and lose your soul.

Or die fighting to keep it intact.

Who is to say one is better than the other?

I am most proud of Budi. He and I have always been a little team and when he walks up to Rainer, Budi greets him with laughter and some of his original hand-slapping moves. But when he looks at me, he bows. He bows low. And he holds it there just a few seconds too long, letting me know that this is his heart speaking now. With his eyes downcast, he says, “Thank you, Cort,” in a small, low, voice.

I picture that day I first saw him in the Muay Thai camp on the other side of the world. He was a quiet, still, solemn three-year-old boy. Udulf wanted one of the loud ones. One of the showoffs. But I said no. I wanted Budi because of his smallness. Because even though his eyes saw everything, his mouth said nothing.

I wanted him because of his… gravity.

This boy has gravity. He is heavy and larger than life. He pulls things towards him and holds them close.

He is so much like Maart, my heart hurts.

But there is no time to dwell on all these thoughts running through my head right now. Soon he’s gone too and Evard is coming towards us. He bows to Rainer. Then he takes one step to the side and bows to me. He says in his small voice, “It’s not fair.”

Rainer and I look at each other, then at Evard. “What?” Rainer asks.

Evard slowly lifts his head up to look at Rainer, then pauses to peer into the jungle to see if any of the kids are hanging around to spy. Finally, he looks at me and repeats it. “It’s not fair.”

My stomach tenses because I don’t need to hear the accusation in his voice to feel it in my gut.

“What’s not fair?” Rainer asks.

Evard is still looking at me. “That I get to leave and they don’t. I think I want to—”

“Fuck you.” I cut him off before he can get those words out, the anger in my voice surprising both Evard and Rainer. Even me. “Fuck you, Evard. Don’t you say another fucking word. Do you understand me?”

He looks down at his feet. But he nods his head.

When I look over at Rainer, he’s got his lips pressed together to keep his mouth shut. I know he wants to tell me to shut up. But he holds it in as Evard walks into the jungle.

Then Maart is there. And right behind him is Irina, so thankfully, there is no time to discuss this.

Irina is, without a doubt, Maart’s current favorite. I try to think back, to recall if it was always this way, but it wasn’t. Last year she was just another girl like Rasha.

She hugs Maart tight and long. And when she pulls back, she says, “You are a dick,” in her thick Russian accent. She points her finger in his face. “You should not treat me like little sister. But I still love you.”

She shakes Rainer’s hand. It’s been a few years since he was her teacher, so those bonds have loosened over time. But with me she stops and sighs. Like she is about to lose her patience with me. She pats my chest with an air of familiarity most wouldn’t dare and leaves her palm right there, on my bare skin, over my heart. She nods her head to Maart. “He is ajarn. Fine. But you?” She huffs as she looks up at me, her blue eyes narrowing down into slits. “You are leader.”

Then she removes her hand from my heart, nods her head one time, and walks into the jungle.

“Fuck.” Maart sighs, running his fingers through his long, thick, messy hair. “This shit feels very heavy today.”

Rainer and I both look at each other, because he doesn’t know the half of it. But neither of us fills him in on Evard’s almost-act of defiance.

This is not the time for regrets. There is nothing else to be done. In a few minutes we’re going to walk through that jungle and then it’s all going to be over.

There is nothing to be done.

Peng comes next. Then Maeko. Then Paulo. Each of them pauses and has a small, whispered conversation with Maart. All three have tears in their eyes. They will miss him, and there’s no way to hide that.

If I am the sick heart, Maart is the cold heart. He locks people out. He doesn’t let anyone in to warm him up. He is cool, and even, and unshakable.

But today is not just any day. It is our last day. And if Irina were still here, she would pat his chest too and she would set him straight. She would say, There is no cold in there. It is nothing but fire.

I sigh and then, finally, Anya is walking off the ship. She looks nothing like the girl I met four months ago. Not even close. Her body is brown now, her skin glowing from the heat of the sun, her muscles tempered from the weeks of training, her hair wild from the rain, and the wind, and the ocean.

She is a goddess in her bare feet, and her borrowed denim shorts, and her tattered white tank top.

And even though, of all the kids that just walked off that ship, her future is the most precarious, she is smiling in a way I’ve never seen before.

She is happy.

“I just want to say”—Maart’s low, soft words tear me away from the beautiful girl walking towards us—“that if ever there was proof that what we are