Pantomime by Laura Lam Page A

in.
      Oswin laughed first, of course. We played several more rounds and I lost more than half of the time, which was not fair because I wobbled easier due to my slippers, skirts, and corset. Had I been dressed like a man, I would have won, I comforted myself.
      Next, Oswin suggested the game of sardines. Damien was chosen to be the first to hide, and we had to count to one hundred while he hid. I strained my ears and listened to him as he crashed through the undergrowth. I smiled slightly to myself as I counted in time with Cyril and Oswin. My sense of hearing was remarkably good, according to the doctors, along with my sense of smell, touch, and taste, and I rarely fell ill. They believed it was somehow linked with my birth disorder, though they had not come across it in other cases. One, Dr Birchswitch, published a thirty-page article about it, and went on a medical tour around Ellada and the former colonies. Thankfully my parents would not allow him to drag me along with him as his show monkey.
      When we reached one hundred, I opened my eyes. I started walking and Cyril followed me. He knew about my hearing. I raised an eyebrow at him and he reluctantly branched off. I moved as quietly as I could with my silly slippers, and held my skirt high off of the ground.
      I did not know for sure if Damien had come this way. I paused and smiled when I saw a bit of movement: a branch of a bush quivered in front of a hollow tree. No one appeared to have followed me and I heard no other footsteps, and so I moved the bush branch back and grinned at Damien's shocked face.
      "So quickly!" he whispered.
      "You're not very good at hiding. Move over," I replied, and moved into the hollow tree. I crouched awkwardly, and Damien offered me his jacket to sit upon. I smiled at him, and noticed my heartbeat was echoing in my ears again.
      "Do you think the others will find us soon?" he whispered.
      "I don't know. We all went in separate directions."
      "Hope they don't get lost."
      "Oswin probably will. He'd get lost on a straight footpath through the forest."
      Damien chuckled and gave me a considering look. "When did you grow up, Iphigenia?" He was one to talk. He was younger than Cyril, and only a year older than me.
      I mock-scowled at him. " Gene . And I don't know if I would call myself grown."
      "Gene." I liked the sound of my name on his tongue.
      We sat in a tense silence. The hollowed tree smelled of old smoke, damp wood and earth, and it muffled sounds from the outside. Water dripped, and animals occasionally rustled leaves. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes.
      "What are you thinking about?" Damien asked, still whispering.
      "How much nicer the forest smells compared to the stench of the city."
      "So much better. The air smells so clean. No soot, no coal smoke, no seeping sewage."
      "Mm, can't wait to smell it all again in a few days!" I shocked him into laughter.
      "You are different from other girls."
      "I'm not easily scandalized," was all I could think to say in return.
      Abruptly, he leaned forward and kissed me right on the mouth. I made a muffled squeak behind my closed lips. He broke the kiss, leaned away, and opened his mouth to apologise.
      I did not give him a chance, and boldly kissed him. His lips were a little chapped from the sun, the skin on his chin just beginning to prickle.
      Damien made a small sound in the back of his throat, almost a growl. He pressed himself closer to me and ran his hands over my torso. I could barely feel his hands through the layers of fabric. My stomach twisted. It felt nice, wonderful even, but I knew with certainty that I was not supposed to be doing this. A kiss or two was acceptable. My mother always spouted the virtues of playing difficult to catch, of stringing men along until they could not bear to be without you. She told me that playing difficult to catch was particularly vital for me.
       I'll give it one more