Page 23 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“Wait, Netenla,” I said, stepping back from him. “I can explain.”
His swift punch whooshed right across my face, almost scratching my nose.
“Wait, Netenla,” I said again, dodging his punch. “There’s no reason we should hurt one another.”
He didn’t speak but attacked me when his supporters broke with feverish excitement.
“Come on Netenla, beat him up,” they shouted.
Netenla soon exhausted. He puffed but kept attacking me.
My veins throbbed. “Stop it, Netenla. I have had enough!” I wrestled him to the ground, climbed onto
his body, and held his hands. “Let’s not fight, I surrender. Okay?”
He squirmed to get free, and when he couldn’t, the enthusiastic cheers of his supporters died. They
watched us wrestle.
The more he squirmed, the tighter I gripped his hands. I felt a sharp pain in my chest. “Ouch!”
“Come on, Netenla,” said someone. “Get up, beat him!”
Sweat drifted from his head and he puffed as he dug his teeth deep into my skin. Excruciating, but I
didn’t let go. He bit me harder.
“Ouch!” I said. “Okay, I give up.” I freed his hands, and I sprang back. “No more fight, please.”
His eyes blazed with anger but didn’t fight me. We exchanged long, steady glares, amidst puffs and
pants. The bout ended. As we dispersed, cries of disappointment from his supporters wafted across the air.
“I never thought you’d lose,” said Jaga. “That was the easiest thing in the world.”
I hobbled up the path, entered the dark entrance, and pushed open the door.
Curled up to his knees, Dad was gazing through the window in his profound thoughts. He turned to
me. “Where were you?”
“Out, playing with friends,” I said and removed the shirt. The bruise had turned blue. I gave a gentle
massage to it.
“What happened?” asked Dad.
“I fought.”
“You fought?”
I nodded.
“Again?” he blurted. “With whom?”
“With a friend.” I took out the Boroline ointment from the satchel and applied it to the contusion. “He
started it.”
Dad shot me a ferocious glare and slouched out.

***

A week later, the seven players of the upper town team assembled in the school ground for a
discussion.
“We need uniforms for our team,” said the captain. “Orange shirt, what do you say?”
My teammates waved their hands in the air. “That’s terrific! Yippee!”
“How much for this?” I said.
“Fifteen,” said the captain.
Biting my bottom lip, I said, “I don’t think I can afford it.”
“You must get it,” said the captain. “Or I’ll look for someone who can afford it.”
“Please don’t. I would try to manage one.”
“You better get one.”
I slouched home with a heavy heart. Dad was conversing with a visitor. I flung my satchel to the corner
and held my chin.
“What happened?” asked Dad.
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