Joan

Chapter XIII

Sailing a boat on the open seas with not a clue where I'm heading because I never learned how to properly read a compass and the landscape is just blue on blue, with a human douche as my guide, yup, I'm living the high life.

Giving credit where credit is due, though, Chasan hasn't been as annoying as I originally thought he might be- he's actually helpful when it comes to teaching me how to read a compass, though it's not without some mocking.

"I cannot believe you have gone through life without knowing how to read one of these," He says, giving me a look that reads of silent judgment.

Adjusting the sails, I shrug, "Where I'm from, you're lucky if you can find a person under the age of 40 that knows how to read an analog clock."

"I have not a clue what that might mean but it sounds ridiculous to think."

"It is. It's a little sad but hey, why waste time trying to figure out something that can be done in a split second?"

"So how old are you anyway?" He asks, resting his head against the side of the boat.

Finished adjusting the sails, I grin at him, always up for a game of how old. "How old do I look?"

Studying me for a second, he replies confidently. "Seventeen, minimum."

Leaning against the steer, arms crossed, face as smug as a duck, I challenge him. "Is that your final answer?"

He scrutinizes a bit more, seeming to double-guess himself but staying strong with his original answer. "I'd say seventeen, nineteen at the max- any more and you'd be lying."

"What if I were to tell you I was fourteen?"

The answer to that is him giving me a dubious look.

"Please, fourteen, you would love to have me think that wouldn't you?" He smirks.

"Nah, I wish I was joking, but I really am fourteen." Geez, nineteen max? I know old genes run in the family but God, I must look like an old hag.

Apparently, he must still think I'm pulling his leg because he barks out laughing.

"Please, you'll make me cry," He says. "You're seventeen, I guessed right the first time."

"Um, no," I chuckle. "I'm seriously fourteen. Where'd seventeen come from?"

His laughter starts to die as he becomes miffed.

"If you're fourteen then I'm seventy."

"Look, I'm not lying, bro, I am fourteen."

As he takes another long, hard look at me, his face scrunches up in disbelief.

"You're trying to convince me that you, a fourteen-year-old girl, took down three grown men and got me tied up?"

"Hey, what can I say, I'm Army strong."

"As you commented earlier: I wasn't born yesterday."

"Fine, believe me or don't, whatever helps repair your ego."

While he shakes his head at me, I ignore him and go sit in my own corner, watching the compass needle turn around in my hand.

"Don't you want to guess how old I am?" He calls out from the opposite end.

I don't bother looking up at him. "You already told me yourself, you're seventy."

"Ha-ha, you're such a funny girl, you know," He says in his dry sarcastic voice. "But, no, really, take a gander."

If it'll butter his biscuit and shut him up again I'll do it.

"Okay, fine. Let's see, you have the mental capacity of an eight-year-old but the looks of a twenty-something...I'm going with eighteen."