Chapter 3 (Lítið Fólk)

We learn where our main characters go during the evening and meet a new character.

My brothers and I walked nearly 2 kilometers to where we usually spent our nights. It was an old school which had been burned to the ground in 1979. They had yet to do anything with the lot, and nobody ever bothered to kick us out. The building itself was in ruins, but there were a few spots of concrete that were hidden far away enough from the public eye that I didn’t worry about any law enforcers bothering us. And, luckily, there was still an easy route to get out quickly if the need were ever to arise.

We walked to the back, where our pillows and blankets from previous nights were waiting for us. Both they and the concrete below them were ice cold to the touch, but my brothers were usually able to fall asleep within the comfort of each other’s body heat.

I, of course, stayed up until morning to watch them, and slept for a few hours after they woke up.

For the next few hours we killed time, not really having anything to do, or anywhere to be. We told stories about our day and our plans for the next one. It was rather tedious, and I always wished I could give them something better to do.

Aside from that, they would play hide and seek, tag, and all sorts of other games of the imagination. Magnus seemed to enjoy himself, despite frequently complaining about being too old for such childish activities. I really had nothing to do but sing, draw, and write - my favorite activities; although I was only decent at the first, whereas I was below average with the other two.

That night began the way any other would. The boys fell asleep around 9 pm, and I stayed up in the cold to make sure nothing out of the ordinary happened.

It did. A few hours in, I could feel my eyes wanting desperately to close, but I refused to let myself fall asleep. I continued writing. It was nothing special - just a little short story to keep me occupied.

And then I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I froze - were we finally going to be found out? Or worse - was there someone standing behind me who had ill intent? Anxious thoughts were racing through my brain as fast as my heart was beating, and I didn’t know what to do, nor could I move.

The footsteps came far too close for comfort, stopped, and started trailing away. I let out a breath and turned around, hand to my chest, as if it were possible to slow down my heart rate. There was no sign that anyone had been there. I scooted closer to my brothers and placed a hand on Stefan’s back. I knew it wouldn’t help him in any way, but it was a small comfort for me.

Now I knew there was no way I would possibly fall asleep. I could feel the blood coursing roughly through my veins; I felt as though I was going to be sick. Of course, there was hardly enough in my stomach for that to happen. I couldn’t determine whether that was lucky or unlucky.

An hour passed. I was beginning to feel a bit better - nothing had happened since the incident, and I assumed that it was perhaps just a child or a teenager who didn’t want to be home, and that I had inadvertently scared him away.

I stood up, stretching my tense limbs. I didn’t take my eyes of Stefan, who was still sleeping peacefully. I walked a little way away with the intention to find the bag which contained the last of the apples Annette had given me previously, but stopped when I saw a figure in the distance, walking straight toward me. He seemed to be carrying something around his shoulders, but I couldn’t make out what. It was too late to conceal myself, so I settled for backing up; I, of course, made sure my body was blocking the man from my brothers. After a quick glance, I discovered there was, thankfully, no one else behind me.

As the man got even closer, I was able to make out his face. It took no time at all to register that this was the same man - boy? - I had seen earlier that day, when I was picking up Stefan from school. He held up his hands, as if to say he meant no harm. Around his neck was a thick purple blanket. He removed it from his shoulders and reached out to hand it to me.

I took it, hesitantly, and felt around each corner and everything in between. There was seemingly nothing sharp, no dangerous chemicals, or anything that could harm the skin. I smelled it, finding nothing suspicious there, either. Only the smell of laundry detergent. I looked into the boy’s eyes and gave a shameful nod. He smiled in return.

The boys didn’t stir as I draped the blanket over them, although Magnus let out a little sigh of relief. I turned back around to the boy, who was standing with his arms awkwardly folded across his chest. I sat back down on the ground where I had previously been, and invited him to sit next to me. He, almost immediately, dropped down onto the ground and crossed his legs at the ankles.

I was silent for a moment as I examined him. He wasn’t looking at me, instead at my brothers, and seemed to notice that I was staring, as he looked slightly uncomfortable. I didn’t care.

This boy had medium brown skin, as if he were half-ethnic, or had spent a lot of time in the sun. My bet was on the former. His eyes were dark, as was his hair, which looked like it was very soft. He was wearing a thick, light blue sweater and white chinos, which I was sure would become filthy from sitting on the ground. He didn’t seem to consider this, or he didn’t care. I came to the conclusion that he was most likely harmless, but I did not let down my guard.

“Who are you?” I finally asked. “Why haven’t I seen you before?” He looked at me, smiling softly. I don’t think he was actually happy; I think a smile may have just been permanently fixed on his face.

“I’m Omi.” He stuck out his hand and I shook it, without breaking eye contact. He looked away quickly; I could see he was anxious. “And I only moved here two days ago. Before then, I had never been here. Or even heard of it.”

“And why would your family choose here, of all places?”

Omi shrugged and looked at the ground, running his hands through the dirt. “I know my mother’s been here before, although I’m not sure why she choose to live here. I’m from  Hafnarfjörður.”

“And where is that?”

He laughed. “Practically on the other side of the country.”

I nodded and turned away from him. I could feel that his eyes were still on me.

“Why did you come here?”

“You looked like you needed help,” he said without hesitation. “And I try to help when I can.”

I shook my head and stood up, finally picking up the bag with the apples, which had turned an ugly shade of brown. It didn’t faze me. I still took a small but greedy bite.

“I mean, why did you come here in the first place? I heard you earlier. What were you doing?”

Omi didn’t speak; I watched him as he continued fidgeting with his hands and struggling for words. I gave him time - he seemed like he had a hard time communicating in the first place, and I was sure it didn’t help that I was putting him on the spot to share something that may have been personal. Still, I wanted at least some sort of explanation.

I sat back down next to him and picked my journal up, re-reading what I had written and checking for mistakes. It didn’t take long before Omi was clearing his throat beside me. I closed the journal and looked at him.

“I guess I just…” he mumbled, not meeting my eyes. “I don’t know, I just wanted to get away from my mother for a while.” He laughed awkwardly. “She can be a bit suffocating.”

“Okay,” I said, and he narrowed his eyes skeptically at me.

“What, that’s it?”

I just shook my head and laughed; Omi seemed like a simple soul. Maybe a bit average. But I liked him, and he didn’t seem to be a threat.

“I’m Marel,” I said. I gestured to my brothers. “My little brothers - Magnus, Lárus, and Stefan. I’m sure they’ll appreciate your help.”

Author's Note

I want to keep the word count up, but have more meaningful text, as a lot of it is just Marel sitting there thinking and doing nothing. Any suggestions? Or do you think I should keep it as is? Let me know! Thanks.