Dundundundun. Dundundundun.
“Good mor-nyan villagers! This is your mor-nyan wake up call. You have sixty minutes til the second trial begins.
“Good mor-nyan villagers! This is your morn-nyan wake up call. You have sixty minutes til the second trial begins.”
“Good mor–”
I fumble to put the analogue phone back in the receiver, but only succeed in slamming it into the nightstand. My hand flails on the desk like a limp fish til I find its wire and yank it out. I spend about thirty more seconds desperately snatching more rest while trying not to nod off. This snozeful mission is as impossible as it sounds, and I force myself up.
“I hate Tuesdays.”
I get dressed, brush my teeth, brush my hair, and walk out the door into the musty hall. One door’s been left ajar, Room 206, and inside is a mess of pop and music magazines the Rat collected from who-knows-where.
I hesitate by another room, this one with a brass knocker that’s shaped like a Dog.
We’ve never walked to school together, and I don’t know if we can call each other friends.
But how about walking the short distance from the suites to the trial chamber?
Rap rap rap.
“Lily?”
The Rat said that he, the Monkey, and Dog, and I all have the best game sense. And the Rat and I are both still alive—if that’s the case, then wouldn’t that mean, couldn’t that mean, it’d be smartest for the wolves to kill…
Rap rap rap.
“Lily? Lily?”
Rap rap rap.
Or, maybe she just hates me… she made some excuses, but she did vote for me, after all. As I wait to take the elevator to the ground floor all I hear is my own fatigued breathing. Then, the door slides open and in front of a tasteful painting of a fruit bowl stands a familiar twin-tailed girl. She taps her foot.
“You’re late. Again!” says Lily.
“Late!?”
“There’s just an hour before trial.” Lily says, as she pulls me in and expertly presses the ‘1’. “And a half-dozen people are already downstairs! If you didn’t wake up, then I wouldn’t be able to say that I’m sorry….
I got too tied up with the tied vote plan. I thought more people would vote for the Monkey than for you… and since the rules weren’t really clear, I thought that somehow, some way, things would just work out. But I was pretty stupid. Yuri, you could’ve died.”
The elevator feels small. She bumps against me, and there’s a scent like fresh paper, perhaps from her hair. Lily no longer bears the strict posture of a disciplinary committee chairwoman; she instead wears the needy face of a lost young girl.
“I ‘m the one who overslept, so I should be the one to apologize if anything. I promise I’ll spend as many detentions with you as you want in recompense,” I say.
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry, Lily.”
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“Hmm,” she mutters, tilting her head. “Hm!” She shakes it, eyes squinched shut. Then finally she manages to find some words.
“Don’t worry about it! You sleeping in doesn’t concern me. And all apologies aside, I’m here more for something else altogether….”
The elevator dings open. I follow Lily faithfully downstairs, then go on ahead of her, stumbling. I’m so sleepy that I stumble into the maintenance room and clatter into a toolbox, but Lily manages to spin me around.
There’s six people in the kitchen. They’re around the table, at the counter, or by the stove, and one of them’s even making food.
“I wanted to make sure that you get some breakfast!” Lily calls out, tugging me towards the kitchen’s casual, checker-decorated space. “That’s all.”
Of course. Of the remaining players—the Rat, the Ox, the Tiger, the Rabbit, the Dragon, the Snake, the Horse, the Rooster, the Pig, and herself—she’s always been the most likely to go out of her way to help a stranger.
That’s not to say the others aren’t friendly; the Horse almost flies out of her stool, her long, bound-up hair wagging in the air like a tail.
“See! I’m telling you, no one died today. I did a lot of studying last night, mem-mor-rization. And maybe, maybe, the healer could have used their powers, or the wolves, maybe, maybe, they killed nobody!” the Horse says.
The Dragon, bags under his eyes, presses his hands to his forehead while sitting at the lower table, and when I glance at him he gives a weak grin. The Pig nurses a cup of orange juice across from him.
Meanwhile, the Rabbit drowses on one of the stools by the kitchen’s island, and the Rat perches on another tall chair. When no one else is looking, he flips me off.
The room’s final person is stocky and muscular, wearing a ‘METAL CORE’ T-shirt and a light pink apron. The aroma of the Ox’s cooking wafts toward me; it’s a scent that’s buttery and rich.
“I still don’t really get what’s happening, but I’ll always understand pancakes,” he says sheepishly. “Want some?”
“Yes please,” I say, and take a seat at the table, between the Dragon and Lily.
The Dragon looks like he’s about to say something, but he just shakes his head. For the next few minutes I measure time in pancakes, the time it takes to scrape them apart with a fork and knife, and chase the pieces til I find and swallow them all.
The Ox meanwhile washes dishes. A dozen forks, assorted bowls, six batter-coated knives, as clattering and the sound of rushing water fills the room, I begin to wonder—who is he tidying up for? For tomorrow’s survivors?
“It’s a quarter to ten,” the Dragon says. “The Tiger and the Rooster need to wake up soon or they’ll share the Monkey’s fate.”
The Ox’s studied expression briefly becomes fraught with guilt: “Didn’t the Monkey die cause we picked him?”
“No,” the Dragon explained. “He wasn’t executed; he was exploded. He showed his role, broke the rules, and faced the consequences.”
The Ox’s face softens and becomes plain. It’s a boyish face with lots of space between his mouth, nose, and eyes, and his haircut is short and practical. He reminds me of a soldier, but one who's never seen a real war. He turns away.
“I’ll save the Rooster and the Tiger a plate. I always make too much food.”
“Wait, wait, don’t put it away!” the Horse says, cheeks puffed. “They’ll be here any moment, right? If you give the Rooster and the Tiger cold pancakes instead of this warm, delicious goodness, they’ll probably want to die!”
Her words echo over the kitchen tiles. Chairs creaking, sinks running, tines scratching against plates: every subtle noise becomes monstrous before finally fading away. And then they all settle at once.
“I bet they’re not coming. Even if you go to their rooms, at least one of them’s not gonna leave, ” says the Rat.
No one mentions why that person might not leave.
“They’re just down the hall. I’ll go check on them,” Lily says, pushing away her chair as the Rat gives her a narrow look.
“Why didn’t you check on them when you went to wake up the Snake?”
“Hey! That was a special case!”
“Special how?” the Rat repeats, lips twisting up.
The Dragon rises: “I’ll join as well.”
“Me too.”
“Me three!”
As everyone shuffles out, I’m soon left in the room with just the sickly Rat. He wears an odd bitter grin, a smile seemingly directed less to myself and more towards an invisible spectator. She doesn’t know the joke! She doesn’t know the punchline!
I shiver.
“Want more pancakes?” he asks, and I shake my head as I hurry down the hall.
