Young Basil stories I pant, beating them in their chase to get the kitten. The neighborhood gang is a little surprised. I block the kitten from them. The gang leader, Omer sneers. âWeâre just having some fun, buddy. Donât go all Herc on us,â this elicits some snickers from his captive audience. He knew, he knew a little too well how much I hated him doing that. This is why we were No-mates, people you just couldnât understand. We knew every trigger the other had. âI wouldnât interfere with us I were you,â he says as a warning. The others puff up their chests, and for a brief moment, I can see he really meant it. Too late, I realize my mistake. Iâve turned this into a challenge. âThis kitty doesnât want you to play with it,â I didnât want to do this now. I was so tired of the things he did around his audience. I flash Omer a discreet disgusted look. âStep back guys, heâs right, we shouldnât be playing with that scruffy thing,â he commands. Muffled protest hung in the air. At this point, the kitten had bravely come closer to my leg, and as they back away, it nuzzles closer. I feel my heart rate calm as it let out a small meow. It looks up, into my eyes, and we make a connection of mutually understanding each other,. I kneel down slowly, and it retreats for a second. As I sit still, it inches towards me. Iâm sure others were snickering or something, but all I could focus on was her. Yes, her. If I find out otherwise, Iâll be fine. Her eyes were soft and youthful. If they werenât, I knew it would take more coaxing for her to be coming into my arms. Slowly I pick her up. Thereâs something about holding a living creature that never ceases to amaze me. Maybe itâs the sensitive warmth you feel, or the rhythm of the heartbeat. And I listen carefully until- âHow sweet,â Omer cackles. His cackle made me want to punch his windpipe. I donât feel this often. He begins to turn away, but something comes hard and fast at my face. I feel the stick scrape my cheek and cry out. It hits a little to close to the kitten. Omer looks back in surprise. A large kid sneers at me, and then shoots a disbelieving look towards Omer. He threw another stick, and others follows suit. I see Omer hesitantly pick up a stick, and throw it over. Everyone cheers as he throws some more. I stood there, horrified for a moment. In all my years, I never thought I would see him actually hurt something bigger than a fly.. But he really had changed. He cackles louder as they keep going. The sticks were beginning to hurt my back, but that wasnât what was making my throat suffocate. I sprint like a deer being hunted. The kittenâs claws dig in out of fear. The world was going blurry. It becomes harder to inhale and soon, I couldnât run any further. I was exhausted. I heard their footsteps running. I stop, falling to my knees and panting heavily. I heard their taunting behind me. My world was dark and shrouded by my hair falling on my damp face, the only comfort from feeling her breath rise and fall. âDone now?â laughing. âShut up.â âWhat?â âI said shut up you moron,â I say loudly, with force. Some âOohingâ echoes from the crowd. Weâre in a more enclosed space, away from the eyes of watchful elders. âYou canât tell me to shut up,â Omer kicks me. âI just did you idiot,â I said back. What happened next wasnât my proudest moment. I was on the floor, and I could feel him angling for another kick. So I turn over and swiftly land a kick on his right shin. He howls, , much to his embarrassment. Â Â He screams out profanities as he keels over. I kick his other shin, as he reaches towards the cat. Then, I catch some words in between curses. âSon of a beggar,â âYou broke your family,â and âBorn Soulless.â He punches me in the stomach. I scream. I shout loudly and he can see my face, red and wet. In a surge of strength, I get up and shove him forward using my bodyâs weight. I hadnât directed it well, but the impact is enough to see the expression of total shock on his face and his comrades. I step forward and they step back. One of them backs into a wooden cart in the alley and trips over. No one mentions a word about the tears rolling down my face. And then I run, pounding down the street. I can hear the kitten chasing after. I donât want to go back home. I didnât know what I was going to do, so I run into the forest edge which bordered our village. I sit with my back against the trunk of a huge tree, and she sits on me. I breathe slowly, in and out until the forest breeze washes out all the rage from my lungs. (Introducing the concept of No-mates)
