course. But don’t worry – we’re committed to working together using peaceful methods toward creating a safe future for all mankind.”
Did I seem worried? Was it a religion or some kind of cult?
“We’re not a cult,” he continued, as though reading my thoughts, and something about the expression on his face told me that he wasn’t lying. Or, at least, he believed what he was saying was true. But what if the name Temple of Truth was a lie in itself?
“Okay...” I continued, “But what do you actually do? I mean, the members? Do you guys pray together or do charity work or wear weird robes or have unusual eating habits or ...” oh man, I was starting to dig myself into a hole. Luckily, my muddled thoughts were interrupted by a communal grunt from the tryout guys below us as they pounded into each other.
“Listen,” said Noon quietly, “it’s my life, and that’s all I can say. There are many of us all over the world and we’ve been around for a very long time. But we don’t like to talk about what we do or why we do it.”
As he said this, Noon’s expression changed subtly, as though a shadow – some kind of infinite despair or terrible pain – had engulfed his soul. I had no choice but to take his explanation at face value. It just seemed so private, so much a part of who he was. But I really wanted to know more. Because I really wanted to know him .
“HEY!” came a shout from the field. The players had taken a break and Cruz was waving up at us, beaming as though the rain was a sunburst. He seemed not to have a care in the world at that moment. His emotions were so real and so raw that they drew me in. But Noon was a mystery. An enigma that I needed to solve. A guy whose icily calm exterior seemed to house the answer to a question that stretched wider than the galaxy. We had a connection like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I was becoming addicted to his presence.
A whistle below. Cruz put his helmet back on and rejoined the action.
“I have to go,” announced Noon. “Do you want to keep the umbrella?”
“Oh. I ... sure.” Wait – I had absolutely no inclination to sit on my own in the rain. I was getting colder and my lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. “No, I’m coming with you,” I said, ignoring the umbrella in Noon’s outstretched hand.
He stood there looking at me as though calculating or strategizing something. “Could you just hold this for a second?” he said, motioning with the umbrella. I took it and he put his hands together and closed his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay and watch Cruz?” he queried, calmly but convincingly.
Suddenly I wasn’t sure of anything. I glanced back at the field, my eyes scanning automatically for Cruz’s distinctive figure and movements. Under the shelter of Noon’s umbrella I felt somehow cozy. My brain had done a one-eighty over the space of a few seconds. I noticed how warm the curved wooden handle was in my hand. It was Noon’s warmth. I snapped my attention back to the bleachers in time to see him stepping silently over them, up toward the steps at the back.
“ Noon!” I shouted to him.
He stopped in stantly but didn’t turn around.
“Wait up!”
I scrambled over the wet benches, trying not to slip. The rain dripped down from his black hair. When I reached him, he finally turned around and unclasped his hands. I felt a surge of emotion as he looked at me. Then he broke eye contact and made for the steps.
He stayed silent the whole way back to the main school building. I guess I was silent too, but it was like he wasn’t saying anything on purpose. Had I annoyed or offended him, and he was just being polite? Then I remembered the other thing I wanted to ask him about.
“How do you and Aranara know each other?”
He kept walking for several seconds. Was he really just going to ignore me?
“I mean, I guess you’ve been at school together for a few years, right?” I continued, “But I
Did I seem worried? Was it a religion or some kind of cult?
“We’re not a cult,” he continued, as though reading my thoughts, and something about the expression on his face told me that he wasn’t lying. Or, at least, he believed what he was saying was true. But what if the name Temple of Truth was a lie in itself?
“Okay...” I continued, “But what do you actually do? I mean, the members? Do you guys pray together or do charity work or wear weird robes or have unusual eating habits or ...” oh man, I was starting to dig myself into a hole. Luckily, my muddled thoughts were interrupted by a communal grunt from the tryout guys below us as they pounded into each other.
“Listen,” said Noon quietly, “it’s my life, and that’s all I can say. There are many of us all over the world and we’ve been around for a very long time. But we don’t like to talk about what we do or why we do it.”
As he said this, Noon’s expression changed subtly, as though a shadow – some kind of infinite despair or terrible pain – had engulfed his soul. I had no choice but to take his explanation at face value. It just seemed so private, so much a part of who he was. But I really wanted to know more. Because I really wanted to know him .
“HEY!” came a shout from the field. The players had taken a break and Cruz was waving up at us, beaming as though the rain was a sunburst. He seemed not to have a care in the world at that moment. His emotions were so real and so raw that they drew me in. But Noon was a mystery. An enigma that I needed to solve. A guy whose icily calm exterior seemed to house the answer to a question that stretched wider than the galaxy. We had a connection like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I was becoming addicted to his presence.
A whistle below. Cruz put his helmet back on and rejoined the action.
“I have to go,” announced Noon. “Do you want to keep the umbrella?”
“Oh. I ... sure.” Wait – I had absolutely no inclination to sit on my own in the rain. I was getting colder and my lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. “No, I’m coming with you,” I said, ignoring the umbrella in Noon’s outstretched hand.
He stood there looking at me as though calculating or strategizing something. “Could you just hold this for a second?” he said, motioning with the umbrella. I took it and he put his hands together and closed his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay and watch Cruz?” he queried, calmly but convincingly.
Suddenly I wasn’t sure of anything. I glanced back at the field, my eyes scanning automatically for Cruz’s distinctive figure and movements. Under the shelter of Noon’s umbrella I felt somehow cozy. My brain had done a one-eighty over the space of a few seconds. I noticed how warm the curved wooden handle was in my hand. It was Noon’s warmth. I snapped my attention back to the bleachers in time to see him stepping silently over them, up toward the steps at the back.
“ Noon!” I shouted to him.
He stopped in stantly but didn’t turn around.
“Wait up!”
I scrambled over the wet benches, trying not to slip. The rain dripped down from his black hair. When I reached him, he finally turned around and unclasped his hands. I felt a surge of emotion as he looked at me. Then he broke eye contact and made for the steps.
He stayed silent the whole way back to the main school building. I guess I was silent too, but it was like he wasn’t saying anything on purpose. Had I annoyed or offended him, and he was just being polite? Then I remembered the other thing I wanted to ask him about.
“How do you and Aranara know each other?”
He kept walking for several seconds. Was he really just going to ignore me?
“I mean, I guess you’ve been at school together for a few years, right?” I continued, “But I
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