Black Catz

Chapter Nine - "Snaps, Chat"

The shuffling of the shoes gets slower.

"Ludivina," the woman they claim to be my mother says, trying to put her hands around me.

The second blast goes off.

This time, the shuffling stops and I hear a hard drop, right on the gravel.

"I think I got him," says Zero, releasing a wad of saliva from his mouth afterwards, shooting it right at the ground below him, that which rested beside his dirty, pointy, rough-ended boots.

The last bits of light flash before my eyes, making me realize I've fallen on the ground. My grandmother is helping me up when I put-together what has happened, and what I need to do.

Run to him. Run to him. Run to him, my brain repeats, cycling the order from myself with hopeless, and maybe pointless, rationales.

I run to Moritz. His shoes rest side by side, with their heel pointed upward and their toe pointed downward, touching the ground, the dirt. All I was thinking about was helping him get up.

"Ludivina!" I hear behind me, from two voices.

My legs pick-up in speed that I pass Zero even though he got a head start—slapping me back and all.

"Stupid girl," I hear him say as I run by.

Stupid girl.

Moritz' face is resting off to the side. His eyes are lost past the sundown. The tip of the sun is the only thing that remains before the light gets lost behind the hills, the slums.

A tinkle of blood sprouts out from Moritz' mouth, and I see his lungs spread out towards me, then back in, towards his body. Another tinkle of blood springs out, with a cough, and then...another.

I drop to my knees and meet him at eye-level. I lay flat on the ground.

"We brought her to you. We did our job. Now you do yours," I vaguely hear behind me.

What do you say right now? What can you say right now?

***************

The first cough I ever heard Moritz cough, happened in a science class in fifth grade. We became friends that day because I offered him one of my cough drops. Mint was the flavor. Boring ol' mint because that's all my grandmother ever bought. It was always the simple stuff with her—my grandmother.

Moritz took the cough drop and then shared a Twizzler with me. That's what he had in his backpack. I'm not sure if it was his favorite candy, but I don't think so, because I never really saw him eat any more Twizzlers after that. Or maybe it was that I put him off to them? Oh god.

From fifth grade to high school, Moritz stayed close to me, and I to him. I didn't get along with much of the girls at school—at least not with any of the ones I "should have gotten along with" (whatever the hell that meant). As a result of this characteristic trait, Moritz, 'till this day, has been my closest friend—apart from my grandmother.

I helped Moritz with his homework, and he helped me with my kicking curves and free-kicks. It wasn't until freshman year that he asked me to be his girlfriend. And to think of it, I never really gave him an answer. I just kissed him.

Laying down, looking straight into Moritz' dark pupils, I leaned in and touched his lips with mine.

Saltiness comes through at first, the blood is everywhere. I lean back and turn him over. Right over his right rib, two holes leak out, straight through his sweater, past his sports team's shirt.