So Inte found a spot on the white skin of his thigh, protruding from his little shorts, and pinched there with his other hand. The expression on Nulla’s face was almost relaxed now. “Is that the best you can do?” he asked. To look at them, you might have thought Inte was the one being pinched. He closed his eyes and squeezed with all his might. Nulla tensed and his mouth came open in a great circle, as though a cry were about to emerge, but he remained silent. He merely stood there, eyes closed and mouth open, and forced himself to bear up under the pain. It was an impressive feat to behold.
Next Nulla found a fork that was lying on the table and handed it to Inte. “Try using this,” he told his brother, laughing merrily. But Inte looked shocked, and we girls, watching nearby, were horrified.
“Stop, Nulla,” I told him. But he just laughed again and said that such a little fork would never pierce the skin, that it would do nothing more than make a slight impression.
“Have a go,” he told Inte.
Inte held the fork in his hand, but he looked completely lost.
“Stop,” I said again. “You’ll get hurt.”
“Don’t worry,” Nulla said. “I’m sure he’ll be gentle.”
“But why do you want him to?” I asked.
“Because I want to know how the children feel when the monster cuts them,” he said.
This was hardly an explanation. Why would anyone intentionally ask you to hurt him? But as I stood puzzling over his answer, he urged his brother again.
“Just a little stab, Inte,” he said. Inte closed his eyes and, gripping the fork in his hands, he planted it in Nulla’s abdomen. “Doesn’t hurt a bit,” said Nulla. “Look,” he added, rolling up his shirt to expose the soft white skin of his belly. “Do it again,” he said.
Inte was clearly upset, but what could he do, with Nulla egging him on like that? He closed his eyes, clutched the fork tighter, and slowly pushed it into Nulla’s stomach.
“Harder,” said Nulla.
Inte pushed the fork and at last the tip buried itself in Nulla’s skin.
“Still nothing,” Nulla said, so Inte planted it deeper. By now the tines of the fork had vanished into Nulla—though he showed no signs of distress.
“Harder, harder,” he ordered.
I wondered how he could be standing the pain, but judging from the smile on his face he was much less uncomfortable than when his brother had pinched him a moment ago.
The top of the fork’s handle had disappeared into Nulla’s belly.
“Nope, nothing,” he said. “A fork doesn’t hurt at all.” Looking terribly relieved, Inte immediately pulled it out. A line of four red dots appeared on Nulla’s skin.
Then, in the blink of an eye, Nulla had taken the fork from Inte’s hand and replaced it with a knife that had been left on the table.
“Try this instead,” he told his brother. The blood seemed to drain from Inte’s face.
“Stop it!” I cried.
Nulla laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It can’t be any worse than the fork. Give it a try, Inte. Just like before.”
Then he grabbed Inte’s hand and pulled the knife straight toward his gut. The flat, silver tip of the blade entered near the marks left by the fork and disappeared slowly under the skin. Nulla’s belly must have been very soft, because the blade slid in quite easily as we stood there and watched. I was hypnotized now, unable to look away. The other girls were staring too. Very slowly, Nulla pulled his brother’s hand toward him, drawing the blade into his body.
“I can’t feel a thing,” he said, letting go of Inte’s hand at last. “Try pushing it a little deeper.”
Inte did as he was told, and the knife disappeared bit by bit into Nulla’s belly.
Then, all at once, Nulla, who had maintained an icy calm up to this point, suddenly let out a terrible scream and collapsed into a chair.
Inte, his face instantly gone white, pulled back on the knife, and as he did, Nulla slipped from the chair and onto the floor. Inte tossed the knife aside and bent over his brother. “Nulla!” he cried, and the rest of us rushed over to them. “Nulla! Nulla! Are you all right?” we called, but he just lay there with his eyes closed, his clenched teeth visible between his lips.
Foolish Nulla!
That’s what comes of playing with knives!
Nulla! we called again.
But then from somewhere we could suddenly hear an eerie laugh, and when we looked more closely, it was clear that Nulla’s shoulders were shaking in time with the sound.
He’d fooled us completely!
I hit him on the back, and his eyes opened in a bright smile. “Gotcha!” he giggled.
We felt relieved and exhausted and crestfallen somehow all at once, and the whole group collapsed in a circle on the ground. Nulla looked around at us, smiling his inimitable smile, but Inte, perhaps still not understanding that his brother had been playing a trick on us, stood over him with a flabbergasted look on his face.
Nulla stood at last. “Gotcha, gotcha,” he said and danced away as if to mock us. It was only then that Inte seemed to realize what had happened—but the realization made him suddenly very mad.
“Nulla!” he screamed, chasing after his brother. Nulla just laughed and ran away, followed by the furious Inte; and since it appeared the chase was on, we girls joined in, crying out wildly as we, too, ran after Nulla. Thus it was that the first day of our summer holidays began with an impromptu game of tag.
When we had finished with tag and then hide-and-seek, we returned the plates and bowls we had brought from our kitchens, tidied up the table, and sat down to discuss how to spend the day. In the end, we decided to go down to the river.
The river
