Pira Read online

  Pira

  Piers Anthony

  Contents

  Copyright

  1. Hot Hands

  2. Commitment

  3. Crossed Lasers

  4. Demo

  5. Dance

  6. Acorn

  7. Judoka

  8. Rogue

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  More From Excessica!

  eXcessica publishing

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  Pira © August 2016 by Piers Anthony

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  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

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  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

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  Excessica LLC

  P.O. Box 127

  Alpena, MI 49707

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  To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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  First Edition August 2016

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  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  1

  Hot Hands

  Orion paused by the yard. A girl was kneeling, troweling out dandelions. She had a long black ponytail and a cute face. She looked to be perhaps four years old, really too young for this type of chore. The summer day was hot, her jeans were dirty, and she did not look happy. There was nevertheless something about her that intrigued him, so he paused.

  “Hi.”

  She looked up warily. “Hi.”

  “You have nice hair.”

  “It's black. I'd rather have brown.”

  “Oh, no. Black is beautiful. There's even a song.”

  “A song?”

  He sang it. “'Black, black, black is the color of my true love's hair. Her lips are something wondrous fair.' I can't remember the rest, except that he loves the ground whereon she stands.”

  “All because of her black hair?”

  “Why else?”

  “Gee. You sing well.”

  “I took lessons. Then I mostly stopped. I don't want to be a singer.”

  “Gee.”

  “Want some help?”

  She hesitated. “I'm not supposed to 'sociate with strangers.”

  He nodded. “Good rule. But I'm not really a stranger. I live in the next block. I haven't seen you before, but we're neighbors.”

  She smiled, relaxing, then handed him a duplicate trowel, her motion precise. That was it: he liked the way she moved. “Oh. Okay. We just moved in last week. We've got moving-in chores.” Her speech seemed to be beyond her age level.

  “Such as cleaning the weeds out of the yard,” he agreed, and squatted beside her, efficiently catching the nearest dandelion and digging at its base. “I'm Orion. I'm fourteen.”

  “I'm Pira. I'm eight.”

  She was older than he had thought, evidently small for her age. That explained the relatively advanced speech. “Glad to meet you Pira.” He reached across to shake hands with her, to her evident surprise. Her grip was precise too; she had excellent control of her limbs. It was the kind of thing he noticed. “What's your name short for?”

  “Piranha. It's a small nasty fish.”

  He smiled. “You may be small, but you don't seem nasty.”

  “Yes I am. It runs in the family. Mom's name is Manta. She says we're predators. Grandma's name is Stargazer. That's a fish that lies flat on the bottom and then stuns its prey with electricity. We're all small as children, but mom says we earn respect.”

  She was becoming downright talkative, and she was indeed coming across like a smart eight year old. Orion was intrigued anew. “And you get teased for it.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because I get teased about Orion's Belt. It's part of a constellation. They used to ask me if I wanted to get belted.”

  She picked up on that. “Used to?”

  “Until I learned to fight.”

  She grimaced. “That doesn't work so well for a girl.”

  “Yes, girls are supposed to be nice. So you can stick to your nickname and avoid trouble. It's generally better to stay out of trouble if you can.”

  “I guess. But sometimes trouble comes looking for me.”

  Orion frowned. He hardly knew this girl, but he liked her more as they talked. “Other children? Bullies? Maybe I could help you there.”

  She hesitated again. “Not exactly. I can handle a bully, my way. But I'm not supposed to.”

  This was increasingly interesting. How did such a small girl handle a bully who was bound to be significantly larger than she was? “Pira, I don't want to pry, but some children are merciless and they don't always fight fair.”

  “Like this. Do you play hot hands?”

  “As it happens, I am good at hot hands.” That was an understatement. He held out his two hands, palms down. “See if you can hit me.”

  “I can hit you,” she said confidently.

  “You haven't even tried yet!”

  Her right hand moved so quickly he hardly saw it, turning over and slapping the backside of his left hand. That surprised him. “Now you try me.” She put her hands out palms down.

  This time he focused on the game. He feinted, but she did not flinch. Then he went for her left hand, but she jerked it clear in time. He tried for her right hand, and missed again. Then he tried for both at once, and missed both. The girl was good. “That is remarkable.” He withdrew his hands.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Not at all, Pira! I'm impressed. I haven't lost a game in years. But you beat me just like that. You have remarkable reflexes.”

  “I guess. It stops the bullies.” But she didn't seem thrilled.

  The dialogue threatened to lapse, and he wanted it to continue. “Do you like riddles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here's a tricky one I heard. It's about Mary and Ann.”

  “I don't know them.”

  “They're just names in the riddle. Mary is 24. Mary is twice as old as Ann was, when Mary was as old as Ann is now. Can you figure out how old Ann is?”

  She gazed at him blankly.

  “I'm sorry. I guess that's too complicated for you. I'm forgetting that you're not my age. I'll tell you the answer.”

  “No! Don't tell me the answer. I want to get it for myself. But it's hard getting hold of it.”

  “Yes it is. Some folk never solve it.” He changed the subject. “How did you learn to play hot hands like that?”

  She shrugged. “I just play it. Kids don't like it when I beat them, but then they leave me alone.” She got down on her knees to resume pulling weeds.

  He joined her. “Because they know you could as readily poke them in the eye with those fast hands?”

  “Maybe. But then I have no friends.” Her lip quivered; her confession put her near
tears.

  “Oh, Pira,” he said, reaching out to bring her in close for a clumsy hug. “I'm sorry. I'll be your friend.”

  She drew back her head and gazed at him. “Gee.”

  A woman appeared at the door. “Pira! What did I tell you about socializing with strangers?”

  And he had just hugged her. What an awkward moment.

  Pira quickly stood, brushing the bits of turf off her knees. “He's not a stranger, mom. He's our neighbor, Orion. He's nice.”

  The women came out and strode toward them. She was outstandingly beautiful, even in her anger, every part in perfect order. “You should have checked with me before associating with my daughter,” she said severely to Orion. “You were touching her.”

  “I should have checked, ma'am,” he agreed contritely. “I'm sorry.”

  “Mom! That was a friendship hug.”

  An expression flickered across the woman's face, as though she feared corruption. “Go inside and clean up, Pira,” she said sternly.

  The girl collected the trowels and departed without further argument. That spoke for the family discipline.

  The woman turned to Orion. Her face was lovely too, and she had the same long black hair as her daughter. “A friendship hug?” she inquired coldly.

  “I shouldn't have touched her,” Orion said. “I acted impulsively.”

  “Why?” The very air around her seemed icy.

  “She—she told me how she didn't have friends, because of the speed of her hands, and I just—wanted to be her friend. I overreached. I'm sorry.”

  “Orion, how old are you?”

  She had picked up on his name. “Fourteen.”

  “Why would a boy your age want anything to do with an eight year old girl who looks four?”

  This was mischief. She was thinking he was a child molester. But he tried to explain. “We played hot hands, and I was impressed. I—I'm good at it myself, but she—I never saw hands that fast. But if she alienates people by standing up for herself, well, I know how that is. Age doesn't matter.”

  “How do you know how it is?”

  “Judo, ma'am. It's a martial art.”

  “I know of it. How does it relate?”

  “When I win, I lose friends. But it's not in me to lose. So I don't compete. It's enough to know it for its own value, not for show. What I really care about is the reality rather than the appearance, anyway. I use it only for self defense, and I never need to do that more than once in any new situation.” Was he saying too much? Yet he suspected that Pira had a similar attitude.

  “Then how do you progress?”

  Orion spread his hands. “The sensei promotes me without testing or competitions. I don't ask him to, but I can't turn it down. That would insult his judgment.”

  “It would,” she agreed. She seemed to be thawing. “Don't you have better things to do than help a child weed a lawn?”

  He smile ruefully. “Not really.”

  “Explain.”

  “My folks have weird work shifts. Mom's on four to midnight, while dad's home asleep, not to be disturbed. So I have the afternoon and evening to myself. I fix my own supper, do my homework, watch TV, exercise. Frankly, I have time on my hands. Especially in summer when there's no school or after school activities.”

  “You get lonely.”

  “Yes, ma-am. So when I saw Pira, saw how she moved her hands, I stopped to say hello. She's fun to be with. I mean--” This was coming out wrong.

  “You say you played hot hands?”

  “It's a child's game.”

  “So you didn't throw the game to make her feel good?”

  “No, ma-am. I wouldn't do that. She beat me fairly.”

  She put her hands out, palms down. “Play me.”

  “Ma-am--”

  She didn't move. After a moment he put his hands below hers. He tried to slap her right hand, but missed. Then she turned hers palms up, and he put his over them palms down. And she caught him repeatedly. She had the same blurringly fast hands her daughter did. She made him look like a duffer.

  She shrugged and put her hands away. “My daughter beats me.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Call me Manta.”

  “I—I don't think I understand, ma—Manta.”

  “Thank you for helping my daughter with the weeds. For treating her like a person instead of a child or an object. She's smart enough, but she's small, and she's shy. Normal socializing will be good for her. If you still want to associate with Pira, you may. Just let me know when you do.” She turned and strode back to the house, as impressive in her departure as in her approach.

  Bemused, Orion turned about and resumed his walk to his house. That was some woman. And Pira might be some child.

  Mildly annoyed by his inability to remember all of the song, he looked up “Black is the Color” and got the remaining words straight.

  Next day he come to the house. “Manta, I would like to help Pira finish the yard.”

  She laughed musically. “Pira!” she called over her shoulder. Then: “You certainly made an impression on her yesterday. Now she likes her hair, and she's humming a song.”

  “That would be 'Black is the Color.' I sang it for her.”

  “Sing it for me.”

  He already knew better than to demur. He sang it.

  “You're good.”

  He shrugged. “I'm good at most things I try. It doesn't matter.”

  The girl came to the door. “Oh! Orion. I heard the song.”

  “We have weeding to do.”

  Pira ducked under her mother's arm and joined him outside. She handed him a trowel. “I hated weeding yesterday. I love it today.”

  “Why? It's still a hot dirty chore.”

  She blushed. That surprised him. Children her apparent age generally lacked sufficient social awareness to blush. “I've got a crush on you.”

  That set him back. “Uh, these things happen. I had a crush on my pretty teacher once. But it passed.”

  “I know you don't have any crush on me. But you asked, so I told you. I just want to be with you, so weeding is fine.”

  “As long as you understand that it's just friendship, from this end.” The last thing he wanted was any seeming confirmation of unnatural interest in a child.

  “Sure.” She took a breath. “Ann is eighteen.”

  “You figured it out!”

  “I knew it had to be between twelve and twenty four, so I tried every number. How did you solve it?”

  “I used algebra.”

  She giggled. “That sounds like a bra covered with seaweed.”

  He laughed. “Close enough, maybe. But it can be useful. It's like a puzzle, solving for X.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, you make the letter X stand for your unknown. That is, the thing you want to figure out. In this case maybe the difference in their ages, because once you know that, you can readily figure out the rest. So you let X equal that difference. Are you still with me?”

  “I'll always be with you.”

  He wasn't sure what that meant, so ignored it. “Remember, Mary is 24. She's twice as old as Ann was, so Ann was 12. Then you make your equation: 24 minus X equals 12 plus X. Got that?”

  Pira concentrated. “I think so.”

  “Then it's simply a matter of solving for X. That means moving the figures around until they make sense. When you move a number across the equals mark, you reverse it. So move 12 across to 24, and subtract it: now it's 12. You move the X the other way, so instead of minus X it become a plus X, and you have 12 = 2X. I’ll bet you can solve it from there.” He was trying to encourage her, knowing she hadn't kept up with his explanation.

  She focused. “If two X is twelve, then one X must be six.” Suddenly her face lighted. “So 24 minus 6 is 18. The answer!”

  “The answer,” he agreed. “I think that life is like algebra: full of mysteries. You just have to solve them as you come across them. It isn't always easy.”

 
; “I can solve them, if you help me.”

  “When I can. There are problems I can't solve.”

  They resumed weeding where they had left off, and made good progress. “Mom likes you,” Pira said.

  “That might be an exaggeration. But I guess she decided that I wasn't a threat to you.”

  “She looked you up on the Net. Now she knows all about you. She's thorough about things like that. But she already liked you before that. She says your life philosophy is compatible.”

  Orion didn't argue. They continued working until they had the yard finished. No dandelions remained. Meanwhile she was humming a tune. He identified it belatedly. “'Black is the Color!'”

  “'The prettiest face and the neatest hands; I love the ground whereon she stands.'”

  “You learned it already!”

  “Well, I love you. And mom likes you too.”

  “How can you be sure of that?”

  “I knew when she played hot hands with you.”

  “You were watching us!”

  “Yeah. I'm thorough too.”

  “Like mother, like daughter.”

  “I guess.”

  “I think that's not the only way you resemble each other.”

  She resumed humming the song, so he joined her, and they sang the whole of it together.

  Then she had a new topic. “You know, six years—the difference between Mary and Ann—that's the same for us.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “When I'm eighteen, like Ann, I'll bloom.”

  She was saying she would achieve puberty at age eighteen? Maybe so. But he preferred to stay clear of that aspect. For one thing, it was ten years away. “It's done,” Orion said, returning his trowel to her. “It was nice working with you, Pira.”

  She stood there a moment, fidgeting. Something was evidently on her mind. He waited, and then she spoke. “Yesterday you—you hugged me. Would you—do it again?”

  “I'm not sure your mother would approve.”