Pulling

My college break so far has been very busy lately. I've been getting out more, spending time with friends and wasting that time.

I'm six days in.

I'm currently at a basketball court that has one bench. The other communal area was removed when a supposed drunk driver had t-boned it a few months prior. I've been selfish, claiming this spot religiously for the past week.

This court was always my second option since the other place was closer to my apartment. After the news on my way from school, I overheard some people playing here speak to each other, in another language that I understood. I guess I was also drawn here because it reminded me of home, aside from the actual one I live in.

One guy, "Manning"--I hear his teammates call him--sees me lounging on the bench, cross-legged and facing their direction.

Hugging my book to my chest, I sense an unwelcome incoming.

"See something you like?"

The first words this guy decides to say to me. Why do people do that?

"I did, 'till you blocked my view of that mirror over there." I point with my head. He spurts out a throaty laugh, and some head turns from the other players follow.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Isn't that my line?" I draw my eyebrows together in confusion. "It only makes sense that I address people who show up on my court but don't play." His comment makes me think about tourists that visit Seoul just to find the nearest McDonald's.

"Yours?" I turn my head in a few directions looking for an abnormally large sign that manages to fit his name and self-esteem on it.

Silence.

"Monea! Unless that girl's got a record for the world's longest phone number, bring your ass back out here or let me bench you!

I get a good look at the owner of that straining voice yelling across the pad. He's wearing one small flashy earring jacket, sweat shorts and bulky shoes. Doesn't seem like someone who hoops, coming from someone who doesn't hoop.

Him and I lock eyes. I look away, immediately repulsed that it even lasted 2 seconds. I feel this oddly strong urge to start stalling. There's something about this pair, I just don't know what.

"Who's your friend?" I ask. "Uwyc?" "Your.." I laugh to myself at the reassuring title. "Your 'boss'? Peměue ghea Seuo." You're actually shitting me.

"Yo, ta hiy taé; real quick!" That was not an invitation for--

They're all around, looming over the bench. It's like they're waiting for his command to make any other movements.

"Pifirt'ha ji'ihye, man? You take her hand in marriage too?" The boy who seems to have lost an earring makes a joke. His tone is low, but I hear him well enough.

"Caoura, wenje gre'j haol." I greet them politely. "Auhn'zvy, teppa?" He asks, probably because I've been here for days without saying a word. Doesn't make me a stalker though.

"Is it your name on the sign?" I look between the new guy and the pale blond one from before. He makes an almost smirk, a face between annoyed and amused. I didn't think speaking to them would turn into an interrogation, but here we are.

"Ggevk jy'cesnt 'suddenly' haol vsue?" I shiver at his words, uncomfortable by the implications.

"Au græl! uiy'ta vsue jy'toub?" Another young man with an obsidian ponytail repeats Manning, wondering how I've been here a week without him noticing. I don't recognize him from the days before. He's about an inch shorter than Manning, but has a bulky physique, noticeably filling out his hoodie. I dismiss the rhetorical question and direct my voice to the entire group again.

"If you're not from here, loke fi mha'jii é loke ha?"

"Arieon" a few say in eerie unison. I also heard "Rras" and "Dtapey". Arieon is the largest territory with Ehtté as the primary language; guess home finds you no matter how far you go.

"I kinda figured one of us would feel some sort of pull earlier if you've been here this long." An androgynous guy in a worn down beanie runs a palm against his forehead. One of his eyebrows moves funny as he does this, I notice a black jewel clinging beneath his skin. "Ejgū, jy'pié ta, I would have known for sure." The boy with long black hair says, still seemingly in disbelief. “Raséu’ul!” Manning says to him sternly for some reason.

What the other one meant by his wording, is that anyone born with Ehtté ancestry gets this physical connection to particular people within our community. I don't understand how it happens, because not everyone experiences it.

I understand that in this city we make up like 0.3% of the population, but I kinda want them to go away now.

I was reading.

Fiddling with my bookmark, a few sets of eyes follow the movement. I clear my throat, hoping they get the hint.

"Good chat"Raséu’ul clasps his hands together, winking at me before jumping 180° and the guys follow right after, some turning back to look at me. I blink at their double takes. "Masché hiy'kur, don't leave because of them."

Another guy with warm brown skin and tight coils stands, holding eye contact with me for a few seconds too long. "Jentemme, by the way."

I nod and he gives me a firm lipped smile. He has a distinctly different look, metal occupying 1/3 of his face. It reminds me of the customs back home, where adornments are encouraged as a practice of always looking your best.

The men continue their basketball game. I continue my novel until it gets harder to focus on the words, the dribbling ball pounding harder in my ears than before.

I guess in a way we are family, in a loosely defined sense. The sunset was getting close, light falling just below the horizon. Maybe I'll return tomorrow, I haven't decided yet. My footsteps must alert someone because their voice makes my soles on the concrete lose their sound.

"Caoura, nemasché!" Manning yells and it hits the walls of some apartment complexes, echoing probably within a quarter mile radius. This neighborhood has always been relatively quiet.

"I really have to head out." I say. "You walk?" He asks curiously. "Not always."

"We'll drop you off if you'd like?" I let his offer spin like a record with a few seconds of silence before the song stops.

They wouldn't kill me, but I'd rather not owe them anything already.

I take the bait anyways.

Music is blasting and I have a feeling it'd be louder if I wasn't here. I'm in the front seat next to Manning, who knows the city well. I told him the address to my hair stylist's neighbor, who lives several blocks from my place.

Just because I accepted a ride does not mean I put my trust in this guy. My good friend Leauhni is on her way to me, as Manning confidently turns up to the location I gave.

I go the entire car way without asking some of their names out of the blue, so some are just "guy with the hat" and "the yeller" for now.

Stepping out of the car, I thank him for the ride and wish everyone well.

Then somethin hits me, I've shown up to that pad for almost seven consecutive days, I wonder what sparked their interest today.