Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
And if she can’t catch anything either, well, we were polite adults at least.
Rem’eb gazes down at Raashel as she takes the fishing rod from him. “She is a tiny female!” His expression is one of delight as he gazes down on the young girl. “Is she going to fish for me?”
“No, I’m going to show you how to do it right,” Raashel declares.
I snort.
Rem’eb blinks, clearly not understanding this exchange. But he watches Raashel as she pulls out a long length of line from the rod and then attaches a painted bone “float” to it. “You don’t cast over and over,” she explains, oblivious to the fact that Rem’eb can’t make out a word of what she’s saying. “This isn’t fly fishing. If you’re going to stand on the rocks, you have to fish for the ones that hide in the shallows. That means you need a floater. Watch.”
“Oh boy,” I mutter. Raashel wouldn’t be so bad if her tone wasn’t so imperious.
At my side, Aayla glances over. She’s chewing on the end of one of her long, wind-snarled ponytails. “Mom says we’re supposed to leave you alone so you can make babies.”
“We’re not making babies right now,” I point out. “Jeez.”
“That’s what Raashel said.” She chews on the tip of her ponytail a little more, her voice soft and completely unlike her sister’s. “And she said she could show him how to fish right.”
“Mmm.” I glance over at Rem’eb, but he doesn’t seem annoyed by Raashel’s endless string of instructions. He watches her hand movements and the placement of the bobber, and seems to nod in understanding.
“I know every kind of fish there is to catch in the shallows,” Raashel continues to her captive audience. “There’s the ones with the big fin. And the ones with the feet. The yellow gill. The red belly. The big mouth ones. Those taste the best, but only if you grill them with herbs. If you put them in stew, they just taste like mush.”
Rem’eb watches as Raashel commandeers his fishing pole. “Mush?”
“Mush,” she agrees in a lofty tone. “We’ll see what I help you catch and then I’ll show you how to prepare it.”
“Uh oh,” Aayla whispers. “I think she likes him.”
Does she? Aw. Poor kid. Her first crush. How old is she now? Eleven? Twelve? Rem’eb is a good one to have a crush on, I decide. He’s thoughtful and attentive and he has no idea what she’s saying so her obnoxiousness can’t bother him too much. Amused, I glance over at Aayla. “Does that mean you guys are going to be hanging out for a while today?”
“Oh, yeah.” Aayla sounds bored. The wet end of the ponytail goes back into her mouth and she slumps in her seat.
I fish out that wet bit of hair from her mouth. Poor kid, forced to be her big sister’s shadow. “Well, you want me to braid your hair while we’re hanging out back here? I bet I could do a really pretty Dutch braid.”
“Sure,” Aayla says, and scoots over to sit in front of me. “Thanks, Tia! What’s a dutch?”
It’s almost annoying that Raashel ends up being right about the fishing. The bait and line isn’t in the water for very long before Raashel gets a bite and pulls up a fish the size of her forearm. Rem’eb’s clear excitement fuels the young girl, and she magnanimously allows him back his pole, as long as he listens to her barked instructions. Before long, they’re both catching fish, and after Raashel declares in the snottiest of tones that he needs to learn English, she makes him repeat everything she points out.
I just ignore it, weaving a complicated pattern into Aayla’s fine, soft hair while the younger sister tells me all about her favorite dolls. I’m impressed with how patient Rem’eb is with Raashel. The kid gets on my nerves, but I’m sure a lot of it is her age. But Rem’eb treats her politely, and when she tries to hold his hand—a sure sign of a crush all right—he gently detangles himself from her grasp. “My hand belongs to Tia.”
And that just makes me melt all over again.
A few more of the kids come to join us—Pak and Rukhar, who seem to be joined at the hip, along with Z’hren. Raashel starts to show off to impress the other boys, and when Rem’eb catches a fish with a mouth so big he could put his fist inside it, Raashel just sniffs. “He wouldn’t have caught that if it wasn’t for me.”
“I think that’s enough fishing for us today,” I say brightly. “Why don’t you kids take these back to the main fire. Who’s cooking tonight?”
“O’jek and Daisy,” Z’hren declares, and makes a face. “Daisy’s food is gross.”
“And then O’jek tries to fix it,” Pak says in his favorite tone of voice—loud. “And it gets grosser!”