Chapter Text
Ao’nung liked knowing things.
He liked knowing which teachers would let you slide if you smiled enough, which lunch lady gave extra fries, which underclassmen would move out of his way in the halls, which teammates would choke under pressure, and which ones would rise to meet it.
Awa’altu was his. He knew the people and their patterns better than anyone.
His best friend, Rotxo, ran a hand through his short, curly hair and groaned. “It’s too early to be here. You get m—give me that.”
Rotxo snatched the cup of lemonade out of Ao’nung’s grasp. He took a long gulp out of the straw and sighed.
“Dude.” Ao’nung scrunched his nose. He reached out for his drink, but the shorter Metkayina wouldn’t budge. Ao’nung rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, shoving his arms into his varsity jacket.
“Fuck, this shit is good.”
“Thanks,” Ao’nung said dryly. “I bought it from the new corner store down the street.”
“Noted,” Rotxo hummed. He took another gulp and suddenly choked, green eyes widening.
“What happened?” Ao’nung frowned.
“Who are they?” Rotxo nodded his head towards the entrance.
Ao’nung turned to look.
The hallway noise dipped for a moment.
Three Omatikayan Na’vis stood by the door, stiff and obviously out of place. Their dark blue skin clashed with the wave of teal that most of the students were. This was a Metkayina-dominated community, and simply, forest people don’t belong here.
Their frames were too lithe, tails too thin. They would never be able to survive the ocean.
Ao’nung took his time to study them one by one. He looked at the shortest one first, who wasn’t actually short but looked so compared to his siblings. His braids just barely brushed his shoulders, his hands stuffed in a baggy gray sweater, and his even baggier pants looked like a sad attempt to make him look more intimidating than he actually was.
He moved his gaze a bit higher to the girl. She had a choppy pixie cut with a few thin braids, a crochet cardigan over a tank top, and a long, flowy skirt that reached her ankles. Her hand tightened on the strap of her messenger bag when she caught Ao’nung’s eye.
Finally, the tallest and eldest-looking Omatikayan. He had a head full of long braids with glass and wooden beads woven in, a white collared shirt layered with a sweater, and simple blue jeans. Ao’nung’s eyes widened, and he quickly looked away, ignoring the blush that crept along his neck.
He’s pretty, Ao’nung thought, then immediately shoved the thought down. He focused on the boy’s siblings again. Something about their faces seemed…uncanny. Different enough to make the old stories in his brain itch. It made him uncomfortable.
“They’re nobody,” Ao’nung said distastefully, sparing another glance at the eldest. His younger sister, Tsireya, excitedly walked to the group.
“Hey! Are you guys new here?” Tsireya asked, then held out her finned hand. “I’m Tsireya, by the way.”
The tallest one shook her hand first, and then so did his brother. The girl only nodded in acknowledgement, though Tsireya didn’t mind.
“I’m Neteyam,” the oldest introduced politely, “and this is my brother, Lo’ak, and sister, Kiri.”
Neteyam.
Ao’nung repeated his name a few times in his head. Neteyam, Neteyam, Neteyam.
Then he registered the familiarity. It was faint and fuzzy, but there. He heard muted laughter and saw dark blue smudges run across his mind.
“Ao’nung!” Tsireya waved him over.
“Ugh. Be right back,” Ao’nung rolled his eyes and left Rotxo, who was still curiously looking at the girl.
“I think I remember you guys,” Neteyam started as Ao’nung approached. “We visited Awa’altu once, a few years ago.”
Tsireya nodded her head; her long curls bounced. “Yeah! It’s coming back to me now, too! We played on the beach for hours.”
“Mhm,” Ao’nung said absently. The way Neteyam spoke was entrancing. His voice was deep and smooth, like warm honey. His slight accent didn’t help, either.
Tsireya stepped on his shoe with her heel.
“Ow!” Ao’nung hissed. His sister gave him a look that said, at least try to talk to them. He huffed and crossed his arms.
“Why are you guys here?” He asked, just to satisfy Tsireya. The faster this conversation ended, the better.
“We just moved,” Lo’ak chirped, breaking his silence. Ao’nung flinched when Lo’ak held eye contact with him.
He had eyebrows.
Ao’nung’s gaze darted to his hands. Four fingers and a thumb. He took a hesitant step back.
Those were the characteristics of false Na’vi bodies. Bodies made in a lab by scientists for Eywa knows what.
Lo’ak seemed to catch up on his reaction quickly. He held his hand to his chest protectively, tail swishing behind him.
“It’s our first day,” Neteyam interjected, subtly stepping in front of Lo’ak so that Ao’nung’s focus was back on him.
Neteyam’s patterns were different, too, Ao’nung noticed. Unsymmetrical, unlike the usual forest Na’vi. Though Neteyam didn’t have an extra finger or eyebrows.
These Na’vi—the Sullies, his brain supplied—were not normal. Ao’nung instinctively straightened his back, relieved he still had a few inches over Neteyam.
“Can I see your schedules?” Tsireya requested.
“Of course,” Neteyam replied, holding eye contact with Ao’nung for a beat longer than necessary before pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. Lo’ak and Kiri handed theirs to her, too.
“You’re both in eleventh, like me!” She pointed to Lo’ak and Kiri happily. “This is great. I can show you around!”
“That’s cool,” Lo’ak smiled and nudged Kiri, who just nodded in agreement.
Tsireya then handed Ao’nung one of the schedules. Neteyam’s.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Ao’nung demanded, trying to give it back.
“You and Neteyam are both seniors, so you can show him around,” Tsireya stated.
Her words landed like a challenge more than a request.
Ao’nung stared at the paper in his hand as if it had personally offended him. Neteyam’s name was written neatly at the top, cursive letters careful and deliberate. Of course, it was neat.
Everything about him seemed annoyingly well put together.
“Why me?” Ao’nung asked flatly. “You’re the friendly one.”
Tsireya smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that meant she had already won. “Because you’re a Senior. And because you know the school better than anyone.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is if you stop being difficult,” she replied, lowering her voice. “Just be nice for one day. Please.”
Ao’nung scoffed, but he didn’t throw the paper back. He glanced at Neteyam instead, then his schedule again. Neteyam was watching him with an unreadable expression, mouth relaxed, shoulders loose. He didn’t look defensive. If anything, he seemed…curious.
That irritated Ao’nung more than hostility would have.
“I don’t need a tour,” Neteyam said calmly, though his eyes never left Ao’nung’s face. “He doesn’t have to—”
“No,” Tsireya cut in immediately. “It’s fine. He’ll do it.”
Ao’nung shot her a look. “I will?”
“Yes, he will,” Tsireya repeated and gave Lo’ak and Kiri their schedules back.
“Thanks,” Kiri said quietly, taking both of them and slipping them into her messenger bag. “This idiot loses his things the moment he touches them.”
Lo’ak gasped. “What? No, I don’t!”
Tsireya laughed when Kiri gave him a pointed look. Then she gently held their hands, uncaring that they had an extra digit.
“Mind if I steal your siblings now?” Tsireya hummed, looking up at Neteyam.
“They’re all yours,” Neteyam smiled for the first time, and Ao’nung’s stomach dropped. He still had that slight gap between his front teeth.
Neteyam then looked at his siblings. “Text me if you need anything, all right?”
Lo’ak and Kiri nodded as Tsireya whisked them away, already filling them in on the best cafeteria for lunch and which bathrooms have the good kind of mirrors.
“So,” Ao’nung said carefully as he and the eldest Sully started walking to the locker bay, “you guys are here to stay?”
Neteyam shrugged. “I guess we are.”
Ao’nung stuffed his hands in his pockets as they silently walked. Neteyam was busy looking around, already cataloging the rooms and building numbers.
Students whispered to each other as Neteyam moved past, though the Omatikayan didn’t seem to care.
“So why’d you move here, Forest Boy?” Ao’nung asked, casually leaning against the locker once they arrived.
“It’s Neteyam.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Forest Boy.”
“I thought you were too old for nicknames, Fish Face,” Neteyam said pointedly, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile.
Fish Face. Ao’nung vaguely remembered Lo’ak calling him that when they were younger. He had thrown sand at the younger boy in retribution.
Ao’nung rested his hand on his chest and gave a mock gasp. “That’s cruel, even for you.”
“You barely remember me,” Neteyam retorted. “Now move, please. That’s my locker.”
Ao’nung pushed off the locker and let Neteyam check the lock. “If you need me to show you—”
“I got it,” Neteyam hummed, opening the door on his first try.
“Of course you do,” Ao’nung murmured. He waited for Neteyam to put his nonessential folders and supplies inside.
Bits and pieces were slowly catching up to him. He heard himself shrieking when Neteyam had splashed him with water. He remembered diving into the ocean and finding the prettiest iridescent clam shell. He had gifted it to Neteyam once he surfaced.
“We thought a change would be nice,” Neteyam finally answered as he closed his locker.
Ao’nung snapped out of his memory. “What?”
“You asked me why I moved here.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Neteyam checked his watch. “I should get going.”
“Do you know where your first period is? I can—”
“I know.”
“Ha. Of course you do, Golden Boy.”
Neteyam gave him an exasperated look. “You never give up, huh?”
“Nah. Never,” Ao’nung smiled cheekily.
Neteyam rolled his eyes playfully and turned away. He moved two steps before Ao’nung spoke up again:
“Hey…For—Neteyam?”
Neteyam paused. “Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re back. Really.”
Neteyam offered a small smile. “Me too.”
𓇼‧₊˚🏀彡ִ ࣪𖤐
“You found this for me?” Neteyam gaped as Ao’nung handed him a clam shell the size of his palm.
“Mhm!” Ao’nung jumped excitedly. This was the first treasure he had ever found on his own. Usually, his parents would find pretty things from the sea and gift them to him and his sister.
The shell in Neteyam’s hands was only from him.
“It’s beautiful, Ao,” Neteyam grinned. “Thank you so much! I love it!”
“I love you,” Ao’nung sputtered. “I mean it! I love it, too.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”
Ao’nung swallowed thickly. “No, it’s for you. Or else you’ll forget about me when you guys leave.”
“I’ll never forget you,” Neteyam promised solemnly.
“I’d be sad if you forget me.”
“I won’t, I swear!”
“I swear I won’t forget you either.”
Neteyam pulled Ao’nung in for a hug. At seven years old, Neteyam’s lanky frame was obviously taller than Ao’nung’s chubby one. He melted in the other’s embrace.
“Neteyam, time to go!” A distant voice called out.
The Omatikayan pulled away and smiled. “I’ll see you later, Ao!”
Then he ran away, up the hills of sand and onto the wooden platform.
“Bye, Neteyam. Come back soon,” Ao’nung called, but the wind caught his small voice and carried it across the sea.
𓇼‧₊˚🏀彡ִ ࣪𖤐
I’m glad you’re back. Really.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
He didn’t care about Neteyam or his siblings. They didn’t belong here. If the principal—his father—wanted to flaunt his graciousness, there were hundreds of other options ready at his fingertips.
But of course, if Jake Sully’s family wanted to reside in Awa’altu, Tonowari would bow his head down and let them.
The Sullies were like sirens, Ao’nung decided, and recalled the old myths told to young children to keep them away from the deep side of the ocean. They were abnormal and captivating in the worst way possible.
Especially Neteyam. His voice was enough to make Ao’nung weak in his knees. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone in this school went missing the next day.
Demon blood, his mother had said. They cursed whatever they touched and left an ugly, dark plague behind.
Ao’nung scoffed under his breath and headed to the cafeteria. The familiar background chatter did little to silence his thoughts. He stood in the lunch line, grabbed his tray, and picked out his food. He headed to his usual spot—a small table by the window—expecting to see Rotxo already there, since he brought lunch from home.
Ao’nung’s heart climbed to his throat.
They were at the table, sitting where he usually sat, and smiling as if they belonged. Rotxo was in a deep conversation with Neteyam, and Lo’ak seemed hopelessly entranced by whatever Tsireya was saying. Even some of his teammates sat by them, too.
He could not speak; his throat had gone dry too fast for words.
Why?
They replaced him with them, and his friends seemed too busy to give a shit. Ao’nung almost laughed at himself. Only a fucking child thought like that.
Neteyam looked up first, and suddenly Ao’nung was pinned beneath that steady hazel stare from across the room.
And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, the Omatikayan lifted a hand, waving him over.
Ao’nung turned away so fast his shoulder clipped another student’s. He dumped his lunch straight into the trash, shoved the tray on top of it, and walked out before anyone could call after him.
He needed air.
He crossed the courtyard without thinking, jaw tight, hands clenched, until he reached the far edge of campus, where an old willow tree drooped over the grass.
He froze.
Neteyam’s sister, Kiri, was lying on her back, facing the shrouded sky and staring at nothing. The trees blocked the view.
The silence only amplified his thoughts.
Everything seemed to naturally lean towards her presence. Like the world was finally calmed after a storm.
The ugly, sick feeling in his chest twisted the longer he stood there.
He didn’t know what to do with it.
So he reached for the first cruel thing he could find.
“Hey!” He said without thinking. Kiri lifted her head.
“Is something wrong?” She frowned as she stood up and brushed the dirt off her skirt.
Yes. Fuck, everything was wrong.
“Are you some sort of…freak?” Ao’nung demanded.
Her expression changed instantly.
Not anger.
Hurt.
Then caution.
“What?” Kiri frowned, her tail curling around her leg.
“I asked if you were a freak.”
Kiri stepped back, tense, like a cornered animal. Scared.
She should be, Ao’nung insisted. He hated that he noticed.
“Kiri?” Lo’ak’s voice cut across the courtyard.
Ao’nung looked up.
Lo’ak was striding toward them, backpack already thrown off his shoulders. Kiri didn’t answer him. She just stayed where she was, tail curled close to her leg, eyes fixed on Ao’nung like she didn’t know what he might do next.
Lo’ak took one look at her face and went rigid.
“What did you say to her?” The youngest Sully demanded.
Ao’nung’s lips curled into a smirk. Lo’ak was easy to provoke. Loud, obnoxious, and fucking annoying.
“It’s another four-fingered freak,” Ao’nung laughed, though it wasn’t funny, not really. He tried to laugh; it wouldn’t come out properly.
Lo’ak snarled and went still.
Then, a shadow fell over Ao’nung, blocking the light.
He barely had time to register it before a hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around hard.
Neteyam. Ao’nung’s throat went dry. The warmth in his chest flooded in like betrayal; he smothered it with disgust.
“Ah, big brother coming to the rescue,” Ao’nung sneered.
“You heard her.” Neteyam’s voice dropped, and he jabbed his finger at Ao’nung’s chest. “Back off.”
Ao’nung mockingly held his hands up in surrender and rolled his eyes.
“Smart choice,” Neteyam stepped back. “You will respect my siblings from now on.”
Ao’nung said nothing. Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak and Kiri’s hands and led them away. The only thing betraying his simmering anger was his lashing tail.
If he kept quiet, they would walk farther and farther away as if nothing mattered. As if he didn’t matter.
“You guys don’t belong here, and you know it,” Ao’nung growled.
Lo’ak paused, then turned back.
“Lo’ak…” Neteyam gave his brother a look.
He waved Neteyam off and stepped closer to Ao’nung.
“Yeah, I know I’m a freak. Demon Blood, right?” Lo’ak held his hand up and curled his fingers into a fist.
Ao’nung’s amused face exposed a hint of curiosity. He leaned in closer, ears flicking.
“But I can do a really special thing,” Lo’ak explained.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
Lo’ak swung.
𓇼‧₊˚🏀彡ִ ࣪𖤐
The drive back home was suffocating. After their little fiasco, Lo’ak and Neteyam were escorted to the principal’s office, questioned, and if it hadn’t been their first day, they would’ve been suspended. Their retribution was a ban on extracurricular activities for the rest of the semester, along with a call home.
Hence, a furious Jake, who profusely apologized to Tonowari and promised he would “set his sons straight and make things right.”
After the door had closed, he grabbed Lo’ak and Neteyam by their already-bruised arms and practically threw them in the car.
Now, they were trapped in a too-hot car with their raging father and an infuriating amount of traffic. It was ninety-six degrees in fucking October, and the radio was playing shitty country music that turned on and off on its own. Jake turned the volume down to zero.
“What’s the one thing I told you guys to do?” Jake seethed.
“Stay out of trouble,” Neteyam and Lo’ak replied monotonously from the backseat. Neteyam already knew he had lost his shotgun privileges. Tuk’s pink booster seat rested between the boys, and the extended cupholder dug painfully into his side.
“That’s right! Stay out of trouble,” Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched. “And what do you do? Pick a fight with the principal's son. We’re lucky Tonowari didn’t expel you both on the spot.”
Lo’ak sat up. “Dad, he was picking on Kiri.”
That made Jake pause. He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled.
“I know this move has been hard on you guys. For everyone. I’ll talk to your sisters about this, too, but I need everyone to just…lay low for a while. Get used to the people, the place. It’s different from our old home, but with time, I’m sure you’ll adjust.”
Neteyam and Lo’ak shared a look that said fuck that.
Our old home.
Neteyam scoffed and licked his bloodied teeth. Ao’nung had punched his face hard enough to split his lip open. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the seat. The sun glared through his side of the window, and the tendrils of its light seemed to burn his face raw.
Jake noticed that his point didn’t resonate with his sons as he had hoped. He leaned forward and kept his eyes on the road.
Neteyam shoved his earbuds in and closed his eyes. A bass, smooth voices, then a guitar solo. He imagined his family realizing how awful this place was and booking the first flight back home. Their real one, not this shitty coastal city.
He wanted to see the forests again, full of tall, thick trees that practically touched the sky. He wanted to feel the soft soil beneath him. He wanted the familiar, herbal scent of his grandmother as she embraced him.
None of that was here. There was only water, sand, even more water, and a blazing sun that never repented. His mother had talked about buying sunscreen for everyone—SPF over thirty, or whatever. Maybe if he didn’t apply the cream, his skin would dry over, and he could rip it off his body to spare it from the heat.
The song changed. Rock.
Neteyam’s body ached. Two of Ao’nung’s friends got caught up in the fight, too, and helped attack the Omatikayans.
Still, if anyone asked him, he and Lo’ak won the fight, even against the odds. Three against two. Neteyam was pretty sure he had broken one of their noses, and Lo’ak definitely left another one with a nasty bite on their finned forearm.
Finally, their car pulled up in the driveway. Lo’ak grabbed the handle, but the car’s door wouldn’t budge.
“Wait,” Jake said.
“What?” Lo’ak hissed.
Jake gave Neteyam a pointed look first. Neteyam rolled his eyes and unplugged his earbuds.
“I don’t want any more of this attitude when we get inside, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” Neteyam and Lo’ak said.
“One more thing,” Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re both gonna apologize to Ao’nung at school on Monday, okay?”
“What?” Lo’ak shot up out of his seat. “No fucking way! The hell?”
“Lo’ak,” Jake snarled. “Listen. You will make peace with him. That is final.”
“Unlock the fucking door,” Lo’ak said coldly.
Jake’s ears pinned back in anger, but he caved. Lo’ak leapt out of the car and bolted into their new house.
Neteyam reached for his bag slowly. Jake turned the car off.
“How’d the other kids look?” His father asked.
Neteyam’s ears perked up. “What?”
“The other kids you guys were fighting. How’d they look?”
“Worse,” Neteyam’s mouth ghosted a smile. “A lot worse.”
“Get outta here,” Jake nodded to the house. Neytiri was already questioning Lo’ak inside, wondering why he was here when school didn’t finish for another hour. Neteyam stepped out of the car, up the porch, and inside.
This house was bigger than their last—as most of the houses in Awa’altu were—and it was taking him a while to get used to. Neteyam greeted his confused mother and walked up the stairs before she could start asking him questions, too.
He faintly heard Jake say, “I’ll tell you later. Will you pick up the girls, or should I?”
Neteyam walked into his room, closed the door, and jammed his earbuds back in. The light-green walls of his room were still bare—save for his basketball poster of his father, who went by Toruk Makto when he played in the big leagues—and his floor was covered in moving boxes. He hadn’t had the energy to take out his things yet. Neteyam collapsed on the mattress in the center of his room—they hadn’t built the actual bed frame yet—and groaned.
Sleep, thankfully, did not elude him. He was unconscious in seconds.
𓇼‧₊˚🏀彡ִ ࣪𖤐
“Neteyam…”
“Mhm.”
“Neteyam.”
“Mhm.”
Neteyam was warm in his bed, sleeping in the perfect angle where the blanket was half-over him, half falling off the bed.
“Wake up.” Someone stole his blanket. Neteyam curled in a fetal position and cracked an eye open.
“What do you want from me?”
His sister slowly came into view.
“I want you to sit up so I can clean your wounds,” Kiri said boredly, holding up a medkit. “You can’t bleed all over your mattress, dumbass. It’s new.”
“Leave me alone,” Neteyam mumbled, covering his head with his pillow.
Kiri grabbed his arms and pulled him up. “Come on, you oaf!”
Neteyam surrendered and sat up fully, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I got beaten up for you, and this is what I get?”
“Would you rather get an infection?” The girl raised her eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
“I won’t get an infection,” Neteyam murmured. Kiri clicked her tongue and set the med kit on her lap, inspecting the items inside.
The siblings were quiet. Kiri clinically cleaned his cheek with rubbing alcohol first, snapping at Neteyam when he tried to pull away.
“Stay still!” She hissed.
“It burns.”
“Good. That means it's working.”
“Mhm, the magic lemon-y alcohol is doing wonders.”
“Lemon-y?”
Neteyam shrugged. “Smells like lemon and shit.”
His sister rolled her eyes and applied another cream. It was cold, and sent little needles to prick his wound. Then, she taped a Band-Aid over it. It had a cartoon monster truck printed on it.
Kiri moved to his hand next. He hadn’t realized the injury until now; it must’ve split when he punched Ao’nung’s stupid face into oblivion. She did the same procedure again.
“You shouldn’t have joined the fight,” Kiri chided, wrapping Neteyam’s knuckles. He winced.
“You and I both know Lo’ak wouldn’t have survived that fight alone,” Neteyam said pointedly.
“True, true. So, what’s your punishment?”
“Lo’ak and I are banned from extracurriculars for the semester. Guess what that means? No basketball.”
“That’s not fair. Ao’nung started it.”
Neteyam stared at his hand and shrugged. “I can’t do anything about it now. Dad’s pissed.”
“Well, Ao’nung’s stupid.”
“Ha, tell me about it. He used to be so nice, remember?”
“I think he drank too much seawater, and all the salt’s messing with his head,” Kiri nudged him.
Neteyam snorted. “That makes sense.”
“Of course it does. He’s an asshole.”
“There,” Kiri finished up the last of his minor cuts and packed everything away neatly. The box closed with a snap. “You’re patched up. Try not to start any more fights tomorrow.”
She slid off the edge of the mattress, carrying the medkit with her. She crossed the room and placed it carefully on the dresser, next to a half-unpacked box labeled BATHROOM in thick black marker.
Neteyam flexed his fingers experimentally. The bandages tightened across his knuckles, dulling the sting but not completely hiding it. The skin around his lip throbbed when he moved his mouth, and his ribs still protested when he propped himself up on his elbows.
“No promises,” he muttered.
Kiri gave him a look.
“I’m serious,” she said flatly. “Dad is going to lose his mind if you and Lo’ak get into another fight.”
Neteyam leaned back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight.
Kiri looked around the room that seemed more like a storage unit than an actual bedroom. “You should unpack.”
“Mhm.” Neteyam didn’t move.
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
Neteyam rolled onto his side, burying half his face into the pillow. “I’ll do it later.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“I meant later-later.”
Kiri rolled her eyes and moved toward the door, but she paused when she noticed something near the edge of the mattress.
A thin leather cord hung there, half-hidden under the blanket.
She tugged it out curiously. A clam shell swung gently at the end of the string, catching the light from the window.
“…You still have this?” Kiri queried as she turned it over in her fingers.
Neteyam lifted his head slightly, eyes landing on the shell.
For a second, his expression softened. “Yeah.”
“You’ve had it since we were little,” Kiri said, examining the iridescent surface. “Why?”
Neteyam shrugged one shoulder. “Forgot to throw it out.”
“You forgot.” Kiri raised an eyebrow.
“Mhm.”
She studied him for a moment longer before placing the necklace back on the mattress.
“Sure,” she said.
“Good talk.” Neteyam pulled the pillow over his face.
Kiri left the room, closing the door behind her with a gentle shut. She took her peacefulness with her.
Neteyam reached out for the shell, letting the cord dangle from his fingers. It swung slowly, like an old clock.
He remembered the day he got it. Ao’nung’s proud grin. Sand stuck to his chubby cheeks. The way he had shoved the shell into Neteyam’s hands like it was the most valuable thing in the world.
It’s for you. Or else you’ll forget about me when you leave.
Neteyam huffed quietly. He wished he could forget today and Ao’nung. His grip tightened on the shell for a moment. Then he threw it across the room. It skidded across his wooden floor and bumped into the wall.
Welcome to Awa’altu indeed.