The red and the salt

 The red and the salt

"Swear not to tell."

And she swore.

And when teachers start asking, and parents come rushing to the school to pick up their children, mothers clinging, fathers combing ghosts with strong fingers out of their hair, she doesn’t tell.

Two weeks pass among tears and warnings, and then attention moves out of the school, and some people even stop working there. First the gardener disappeared, taking with him his rakes and buckets. Her own mother had been quick to point her bony finger at the strange and quiet man:

"Never liked him... God knows what he did to that poor child."

And when that blew over, it was the lunch ladies. One day she saw one, the young and nice one, run out crying, the older one storming out after her, yelling her outrage. Since then, her mom had packed her lunch at home.

After two weeks, it seemed, things were finally settling, but not in her mind. It haunts her... but she swore. Even now the other children don’t seem to trust her, she's caught them whispering among them looking at her. One time in the bathroom, the one who made her swear pulled her hair until tears stung her eyes, making her double and triple swear. And she swore. She triple swore…

Still, she could see something in their eyes, a thirst for the red, a hunger for the salt. And she knows she is next. Even though she's sworn, even though she hasn't told anyone, not even her stuffed unicorn.

They come for her a few days later, during recess. A smaller boy had been climbing a fence, and had fallen, unexplainably hard, and it seemed his arm was broken. He wailed and sobbed, and all the teachers in the yard ran to him or to the phone. And all of a sudden she is surrounded, and there are no teachers near and she knows her time has come.

The children hum in harmony as they take her to the furthest corner of the back yard, to the spot hidden by trees. And the game begins.

The mean girl takes her left heart finger in her small hand, and starts scratching between the knuckle and the first bend. And the questions start. 

She knows the rules, she has to answer fast, before the other one draws blood, and she mustn't cry.

She starts answering, but the questions get harder and harder, still she answers as fast as she can, eleven, twelve, thirteen questions...

"Name a color that starts with the letter i."

She's stumped, she knows this one, she's sure... she closes her eyes concentrating, but she's starting to feel pain, and it won't let her think straight... the girl scratches and scratches, and she must have hit bone by now. God it hurts! Her thoughts are racing, and she suddenly remembers the answer lies within the rainbow... red, orange, yellow green, blue... violet? She knows this; it's on the tip of her tongue, why did it have to have such a hard name? 

The sound of the earth shifting makes her open her eyes, she sees the children around her, the thirst makes their eyes shine bright. She sees the girl in front of her, there's a wicked smile on her face. She doesn’t dare look at the earth, but her eyes betray her and start wandering down, and stop at the sight of her finger, blood's been drawn, and the red opens the door.

She closes her eyes determined not to cry. And puts her other hand in her pocket. 

She doesn't remember putting it there, but there's a pencil inside, one of her Prismacolor pencils. She feels the tip with her fingers, still sharp. And she knows that it is her only chance.

She opens her eyes and looks at the other girl. The other stops scratching, she seems confused.

"Your eyes are shining red, they're supposed to be shining with tears."

She feels the thirst, urging her, so she takes her hand out of her pocket and stabs the other girl's hand with the tip of the pencil.

“Indigo.”

The girl cries out, startled, her face starts to contort. A small red drop starts growing on the back of her hand. The red opens the gate.

Her eyes don't even look thirsty anymore, they start filling up. The salt calls the thirsty ones.

"No, please, please, they made me do it, I didn't want to, please, mommy... mommy?..."

It happens fast, the sound of the earth shifting, dead children's hands reach out, and grab her ankles, tear her clothes. A deal was struck, and the debt must be paid. For a moment the earth looks like quicksand, her sobs are muffled and then disappear completely. 

The thirst has been quenched. The debt of the red and the salt has been paid.

Her finger hurts, but she ignores the pain. She turns around, the other children are still there, she can see fear in some of their eyes, and some won't even look at her. Some are biting their tears back.

Winter holidays start next week, and come January, the earth will be frozen and no debt will have to be paid, for it has already been fulfilled. One for the red and one for the salt. She could tell them this, she could say the debt’s been paid. But they had been so eager to see her cry…

"Swear not to tell."

And they swear.