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*tap*tap*tap*tap* Ike looked up over the rim of his glasses, the rounded golden edges created 'wings' around Buck's shoulders. "Something wrong?" "Huh?" Buck shot up in his seat, his hand freezing in place. "I said... 'something wrong?'" Startled, Buck stared sightlessly at the other rider, "I didn't hear you." *tap*tap*tap* Ike looked back at him, his eyes pointed at the bouncing pencil. Once it stopped Ike reached up with the back of his hand and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "Just checking." Buck stared at the wall while he wrestled with his problems. The pencil between his fingers moved up and found an abusive home, gnashed by his teeth. The table where Ike was seated had been covered in a tarp, oil and grease smeared over the white plastic. One of the Indians was having some motor trouble and Ike was sure he could fix the problem... but, first there was another problem to fix. He set the transmission down and wiped his hands off on his apron. "Buck?" "Yeah?" "You should take a break." "A break?" Ike rolled his eyes. "You've been staring at that code book for hours now-" Real frustration started to show, "Well, it's not that easy!" "I never said it was." Buck slammed the book shut and shoved it across the table. "I'm Kiowa.. well, half anyway. The codes they're having us use are all Navajo," he waited to gauge Ike's reaction. "It's not the same..." Buck leaned back in his chair, teetering on the back legs of the bentwood. "I mean.. the only thing all the tribes have in common is the 'sign' language we use." Ike felt for Buck... of all the boys assigned to this unit, Buck was the least able to 'fit-in' to Paris society. It was because of his skin color that he spent most of his time 'hiding' in the club. Today made the fourth day he'd been cooped up inside the club and with the whirlwind of activity around him, he'd felt less and less a part of the whole undertaking. The band had been in an out and every time they began practice, Buck removed himself from the room. Ike couldn't imagine being cooped up inside for days on end, especially if you were used to the wide open spaces of the American West. "There's a ride coming up... you want to take it in Kid's place?" Buck picked up his books and nodded gratefully, " 'seems like you understand." Ike bobbed his head, "A little, when my family left for America, it was much like the original 'pilgrims'. They had us packed so tight inside the hold of the ship, we lost hope in ever seeing the sun again. So in some strange way, I do." Buck smiled and reached out his hand, "Thanks... this means a lot." Taking his hand in a warm shake, Ike also returned the smile. "Any time, any time." ***************************** Lisette stared out the window into the darkening day. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and let the simple rhythm of breathing in and out, steel her heart. The radio had always been her solace in the darkness of night, showing her a world outside her quiet existence. Lately, the world outside was even darker with the German forces looming closer and music was no longer abundant on the evening airwaves. Tonight was a bit different. It seemed that the even the Germans were tired of the war reports and had stopped the bombings long enough to let an hour or two of music out to the masses. The music was heavenly and almost bittersweet. The freedom of the sounds seemed so different and strange when compared to the oppressing feel of her life. The strains of a new melody swept over her and she wiped off the mist on the glass. It fogged under her hand, from the warmth of her breath. Common, everyday people walked past her window, carrying on with their lives; unaware that she was just a few feet away dreaming of having a life like theirs. I'd know you anywhere, I'd know that grin, Leaning closer to the window. She drew a heart in the mist of the glass, drawing it again and again. She didn't realize that someone stood outside staring at her from the street. I would tingle with a single glance in your eye,
He stood in the street, rain coloring his shoulders, turning his suit darker by the moment. She looked straight into his eyes and lost all ability to think. You saw my vacant stare, you understood,
Her finger stopped at the bottom of the heart, pressing into the glass as if it could reach him outside. Her mind rebelled, she had never seen anything so amazing as the foreign beauty of his face. He stood there and watched her as if he were looking at a picture; strawberry blonde hair frosted by the glass it hung straight down over her shoulders and curved around the swell of her chest. He would have stayed there until night fell, but a flash of lightening split the sky an instant before the hail started. With one last look, he ran down the street toward home. Lisette pressed her cheek against the glass and struggled to watch him as he ran through the downpour. Where was he going? Would she see him again? Who... oh my goodness, who was he? Leaning against a building, taking shelter from a think canvas awning he laughed to himself, "What was I thinking?" He knew he had taken a chance by standing there, but there was something about her, the sadness on her face... he'd seen that look before. There was another flash behind a building and he saw it in his mind. He'd seen that look on his own face, but he'd also seen her. That vision in white- I was certain this would happen, strange as it seems,
Title Page The Storybook The Kidnation |