Two weeks have passed since they arrived in the village. Despite some differences, the researchers come together as a team.
For Luuk, life is not as smooth when Jona leaves him for his own research. Luuk believes that he's in imminent danger without Jona to save him. Little by little, an innate part of Luuk's brain that shuts out other people is now opening up to Jona. And he starts to identify Jona as his tertiary line of defense mechanism, the way he sees his big brother.
But he hasn't realized it yet.
-Part 1-
"Wait what?" I asked. Something in my ears rang, numbing the semi-foreign conversation around me.
The sensei smiled at one kid who was passing him the moon pictorial card. He waited for the kid to pronounce 'moon' in Kamaiurá language before he changed the card to a picture of a car. It took the kid several seconds before he uttered the word 'car' in Kamaiurá.
"I'm going to the deforested site tomorrow." Da Graça switched the card to another picture.
He was the one who drew the pictorial cards last night; he was surprisingly terrific at it. Yesterday, there was a storm again, and William accidentally left the box filled with the pictorial cards in the center of the village, the spot we conducted yesterday's illustrated questionnaire.
"But you're helping me with the kids." I passed the card to whoever it was, still staring at da Graça. I just realized he had dimples when he smiled. A tiny mole marked his left cheek. He really looked like a kid. Harmless. No wonder the kids liked him. No wonder I liked him enough to depend on him.
Depend?
Da Graça shifted on the flip chair after he ruffled the boy's dirty hair. "This is the last batch of the children. We've been doing this for three days straight." He stared at the queuing naked kids inside the chief's house. "You can handle the grownups. I saw you working every day. You're doing great."
I looked at one kid who just entered the house. He had a monkey perching on his shoulders. Its hands were busy puttering with his unkempt black hair. I couldn't help shivers escaping me. I shifted closer to the sensei. "But there are still the monkeys." My voice almost shook.
"The monkeys are pets, Professor. Not wild animals. They will not go rabid," he said.
I stared at the roof, trying to squeeze my brain for any more excuses to keep him here without sounding suspicious. Sunlight peered into some of the minor cavities between the dried leaves, weakly illuminating the hammocks of the residents. One hen was laying eggs under a small decrepit table against the wooden wall. "How long are you going?"
Da Graça smiled and patted my arm; he pointed to the waiting four-year-old kid who was resting her small, muddy hands on my knees, leaving small hand prints on my black pants. The girl looked at me with big brown eyes, legs squirming from standing too long, I guessed. I called Ethan who was having a conversation with William and passed him my set of cards, asking him to take over. I pushed the kid gently to him.
Da Graça then said, "It takes three days to reach the site, a week for the sampling. So... two weeks?"
"A fucking fortnight?" I asked, not enjoying what I heard. I didn't know why my stomach squirmed in jitters, but I was sure it was because of the monkeys. Only he could save me from the hellhounds. He was a monkey's whisperer. Kids and monkeys listened to him.
He looked at my unsolicited RA who was having a conversation with Essien and one of the villagers. "William came back this morning."
"I don't like him."
The sensei laughed, making the next kid in the line laugh too. He pinched the kid's chubby dirty cheek and said, "Você me lembra Myra." [You remind me of Myra.]
At first, I thought he was talking to the kid, but then he looked at me and smiled.
"Quem é a Myra?" ]Who's Myra?] I asked.
"Minha aluna de seis anos. Ela nunca quis treinar com outros instrutores. E sua razão seria: Eu não gosto dele." [My six-year-old student. She never wanted to train with other instructors. And her reason would be: I don't like him.]
To be compared to a six-year-old didn't hurt my pride, because he couldn't be more accurate about me. To know that he thought he was bad at reading people...
I said, "Bem, pelo menos ela concorda comigo que és um amor." [Well, at least she agrees with me that you're a sweetheart.]
His head flipped to me, hard and fast. "What?"
"What?" I shrugged, but inside, I was burning with embarrassment. Sweat trickled my back, both from the heat inside of me and the heat surrounding me.
Sweetheart? The fuck is that? Preposterous.
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