Page 50 of The Godhead Complex
The Orphan shook his head. Pride had nothing to do with it. “When I asked the boy his name he said,Kit. But when he asked me back, I told him I didn’t have one.” Shame. In the same moment of his life where he’d shown the most courage, he also displayed the most cowardice.
He took a deep breath.
“You couldn’t have, and he shouldn’t have told you his name. That’s probably why he was beaten, for giving himself a name. You know that.” She crossed her arms at this and shook her head. Minho knew she’d understand. He needed to stop berating himself for it, but not telling Kit his name lingered as his one regret. “Gotta just try to forget about it. When I was a kid, I got reinforcement real bad like that.”
“You did?” He looked her up and down for visible scars, but she was pretty spared.
He shook his head. “Not beat like this kid was.”
“No?” Orange turned away from Minho and lifted up the bottom of her shirt. Across her lower back were three-inch-thick scar lines that looked like she’d been nearly cut in half. “I was ten. They heard me sing.” She lowered her shirt and faced him again.
“Damn, Orange. You’re tougher than I thought.” That image would be impossible to get out of his mind. Slashes.All for singing? But if Orange could survive that, then there was hope for Kit too.Minho tried to move on. “Even so, as the captain of the ship, I give you permission to slap Dominic across the head anytimehestarts singing again.”
Orange smiled, leaned into the captain’s wheel, and whispered, “He’s awful, right? Like a seagull squawking over a dead fish.”
Minho shook his head, his face pained. “I can’t believe we’ve listened to him hum and holler this whole trip and you’ve been holding back on us.Youshould sing. Over him, with him, but preferably instead of him.”
“Eh, maybe.” She shrugged, not quite able to move on.
The Orphan understood. He once had a beating so hard he didn’t talk for a month. Minho felt intrusive even thinking about it, but he had to ask her. He slowed down the ship. Orange deserved his full attention for this next question.
“What’s your name?” His eyes focused on hers.
Orange tilted her head in confusion.
“Your name?”
She trembled slightly, as if a Priestess could slap her right now for even thinking about it, but the Remnant Nation had no hold over them now, out here in the middle of the ocean. They were free. She had to have a name.
“You know my name. It’s Orange.”
“Orange is a nickname, not a real name.” He wanted to know what this girl, standing in front of him with scars from singing, called herself inside her own mind.
“Yeah, but nicknames are better than real names because onlyfriendscall you by your nickname.” She nudged him. “Which means I have friends.”
Minho took it in like the slow-moving waves ahead of them. He wondered if having a nickname was the one true measure of friendship—and if he’d ever have a true friend. Orange interrupted his thoughts, “Just like Skinny and I always called youHappy.”
Minho searched his memory for a time when Skinny would have called him that.
He could only vaguely place it.
“Happy?” It wasn’t anything he would have called himself.
“Yeah,” Orange squinted at Minho, “Everyone calls you Happy.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted across the boat to the others climbing on deck from below, “Hey Dom, what’s Minho’s nickname?”
Dominic was all too enthused to answer. “Happy!” He waved from across the deck. “She told us on the Berg. Took actually meeting you for me to really get it.” Then, completely unprompted, unwarranted, and unwelcomed, Dominic started singing a song aboutbeing happywhile the others clapped along.
Minho couldn’t help but smile. He moved the lever to pick up speed. Roxy and Miyoko clapped enthusiastically, letting out hoots and hollers to go with the song.
Minho, the Orphan with no name, now had two names.
One he chose. And one he just might grow into.
Happy.
Anchoring close to shore before sunset helped theMaze Cutterstay safe while Minho and Orange rested, but Sadina hated how much the ship rocked back and forth from the incoming waves. She leaned against a bunk and closed her eyes while the others prepped dinner.
“Can’t you do that on deck?” Miyoko asked Dominic, “You’re getting fish slop everywhere and it smells terrible. Worse than you.”
