It had been a week of court-separated couples (i)bonding(i). Frozen in place had started to thaw. Frozen by fear, frozen by reality, frozen from using the same old tactics to (i)weaponize(i) relationship. "I'm going out of my mind," I revealed to a friend of a friend. "Not being in a relationship."
"Don't look at me like that, I can't get into one right now. Tactical training is literally around the corner." My eyes looked at the floor and I mumbled, (i)I wasn't(i).
Up at the camp we hadn't gotten to any art or writing yet because everyone had taken a defensive position. For some of the women this meant (i)being boss(i). And led to rounds of "you're not the boss of me." And (i)acting out(i) to (i)demonstrate(i) just that.
And, (i)scattering(i). A mountain biker screeched to a halt in the dirt. "I seen the judge."
"What's she up to these days?" Someone half in and half out of the bushes asked.
"She's fishing, so then'll be headed this way."
A young woman who'd taken tons of children's laundry out of backpacks and had been de-wrinkling and folding the clothes started hucking the neat piles into a heap in the center of the blanket she was sitting on. "The judge fishes?"
"Ours does. White peoples' just hang people in the woods."
"That is not true," a young white woman said. No one said anything. She turned to the biker. "Clarence, you've been all over the place on your little dirt bike. You seen people hanging?"
Clarence was etching a pattern in the dirt with his foot beside other tire treads. "It is not a dirt bike."
"Well, what is it then?"
"It is a (i)mountain(i) bike."
"It's beautiful." She said and started towards it. "Did you fix the pedal?" Clarence looked more deeply at his foot. "You remember that?" She stood about two feet away from the bike. "Quite the crash from the sounds of it," she said. He looked at her and smiled. "I survived." Then he laughed a little and used his other foot to twirl the repaired pedal. She watched him turn it around and around smooth. "I got hurt too," the bushes spoke. Clarence stopped turning the pedal. "On a bike?" He asked.
"My friend got hit in the face with a two by four on (i)his(i) bike. 'Cuz they wanted the camera thingie. I got stabbed with a stake."
"Really?! Can I see?"
"Well, it's mostly bandaged up by now, God, that was like ten days ago, but I'll let you peek.". Clarence carefully got off his bike and wheeled it forward then lifted the front tire and parked it on a root leaning against a tree. He went into the bushes. He came back out. "Gross." He said but grinned 'cuz he got to see it.
Groaning and grunting sounds came from the road. (i)Dammit(i). "Is that the judge?" Someone poised with a bag of food asked. Clarence's face made a sudden (i)Ooooooo(i) expression and he put his hands out like a surfer. Then he ran and parted more bushes to check. He ran back. "No," he told. "That's that girl everybody's calling a there-pist."
"Why? Is she pissed?"
"Maybe so. I better (i)get gone(i)." Clarence yanked his bike and put it under him and left in one smooth move.
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