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  JoccBlocc

  4 People

  [Load 228 previous messages?]

  Today 9:02 PM

  how do i work out with my ankle still fucked up?

  plz

  ??????

  Today 9:31 PM

  Jennifer JoccBlocc (aka Jneffner)

  Ask Lidia

  Today 9:33 PM

  ????? JoccBlocc (aka Georgia)

  Ya

  Ask Legday

  Today 9:40 PM

  Leg Day JoccBlocc (aka Lidia)

  Asklegdidiay

  Today 9:48 PM

  ??????

  legdididya:

  how do i work out with my ankle still fucked up?

  Today 9:50 PM

  Leg Day JoccBlocc (aka Lidia)

  ??????

  You free tomorrow afternoon

  Around 3-4

  ?

  Today 9:51 PM

  sure

  Today 9:54 PM

  Leg Day JoccBlocc (aka Lidia)

  Good

  ??????

  I’ll pick you up at 3

  Wear workout leggings & a hat you can get sweaty

  ??????

  At 3.02 on Friday afternoon, Simkha found herself climbing into a R?deShare with Leg Day.

  Leg Day wore a black Yale University branded baseball cap, expensive sunglasses, and a black sundress-style coverup. She held a little drawstring satchel wrapped around her wrist. She wore an expression of repressed amusement as Simkha nervously buckled her seatbelt.

  “Heya,” said Leg Day. “You ready for this?”

  “I, uh, I guess it depends,” said Simkha. “Will you tell me what we’re doing today?”

  Leg Day chuckled to herself.

  “Patience, cutie.”

  Simkha squirmed and looked out the window. She watched as the car turned east, passed the rows of townhouses, then turned south onto Woodstock.

  Simkha had survived since last night without knowing what to expect. She could survive a few more minutes of stress, especially since Leg Day was going out of her way to help. Just a few more minutes. She figured a functional person in this situation would probably start chatting, right? Functional people love chatting with friends.

  Simkha glanced at her HUD and decided she had enough capacity in her relaxation and socialization meters to successfully chat.

  What would Leg Day enjoy chatting about?

  “So…” said Leg Day. “What’s Tali up to today?”

  “Uh,” said Simkha. “She’s supposed to be with Corey right now, either in the maths library or in the Klein building.”

  “Yeah?” asked Leg Day. “Jen mentioned a plan to, like, get her a maths scholarship.”

  “Yeah. That’s the plan. As far as I can tell, she just needs to learn the English-language vocabulary for maths. Because I think she already studies maths or physics where she came from.”

  “Have you figured out where she’s from yet?”

  “Well,” Simkha shrugged. “Not really. But, wherever it is must have decent maths education. Because she tells me about what she learned each day. And when she started on Wednesday she was already learning, like, calculus or whatever.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Yeah,” said Simkha. “Now it’s all, like, topography and other stuff I haven’t even heard of. Not that I actually know calculus. I only got like halfway through that in high school.”

  “Yeah,” said Leg Day. “In Lusitania, Lyceum usually ends right before calculus. Not many people start it before uni.”

  Simkha nodded along. She thought about where to take the conversation next. She stalled out a little. She could feel the pause in conversation stretch on. It was getting long. It was getting too long.

  Simkha felt her body start to panic. Shit. She was failing at conversation.

  No, no, no. Calm down, idiot. What did Leg Day say before? She probably alluded to a few conversation topics she’s interested in. But what did she actually say? She mentioned how they teach maths where she grew up. And before that… it was like… no, wait. Hold on.

  “Hold on,” said Simkha. “What age do you all graduate from Lyceum? I mean, like, what’s the graduation age in Lusitania?”

  “Mmm?” said Leg Day. “Sixteen or seventeen, usually.”

  “Ah, that makes sense,” said Simkha. “It’s mostly age eighteen in Tamazgha. So, we have a little more time to learn calculus.”

  “I’d be stuck at the start of calculus if I was still studying maths,” said Leg Day. “I was useless when I tried it.”

  “I guess I’d be on whatever comes after calculus,” said Simkha. “I’m twenty-two, so I’d’ve had one year to finish calculus and three to learn the new thing.”

  “What about Tali?” asked Leg Day.

  “She totally blew past calculus.”

  “No, I meant,” said Leg Day, “is she, like, your same age?”

  “Oh,” said Simkha. “Well I’m twenty-two, so I guess Tali must be twenty-two or twenty-three?”

  “Really?” said Leg Day. “She looks younger than that to me.”

  “Huh, I guess you’re right?” said Simkha.

  “We’re here,” interrupted the driver. “Your destination pin is just past those bollards.”

  “Thanks,” said Leg Day.

  Simkha smiled and climbed out of the car. She chewed on her lip while Leg Day tipped the driver.

  Simkha had to admit that Tali did look a bit young. Simkha hadn’t really considered Tali’s age before because she knew she was bad at estimating ages. She hadn’t thought past wow, Tali looks youthful.

  But if Leg Day also thought Tali looked younger…

  Well, Tali could fuck around with space by moving along an extra dimension. And physics documentaries all said that time and space were the same thing.

  Was it possible that Tali had used her dimensional magic to fuck with time too? What if the current Tali was a teenager who came to find twenty-two year-old Simkha? Oh G*d. Tali could be a freaking minor who, like, ran away from home to drink wine with the college kids.

  Simkha frowned.

  Simkha really hoped she had not spent the last week cuddling with and lusting after a meaningfully younger girl.

  But that wasn’t even the worst part of Simkha’s realization. The worst part was the fact that Simkha had spent a week living with Tali but still didn’t know her well enough to guess at her age.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  What did Simkha actually know? She didn’t know how many years had passed for Tali since they were separated. She didn’t know why Tali had disappeared. She didn’t know how Tali had lived during that indeterminate interval. She had no clue where Tali was actually from, or what she was doing here at First Oxford. She didn’t know if Tali had friends, or girlfriends, or boyfriends waiting for her to go home.

  Simkha felt she didn’t really know Tali at all. Simkha considered her list of questions still written on that whiteboard at home. She felt increasingly sure that her crush was nothing more than the last remnant of a childhood friendship with a hot girl.

  “All right,” announced Leg Day “let’s go.”

  Simkha jumped as she was ejected from her thought-spiral. She blinked and hurried her body along after Leg Day—to the back of the lot, past the skips, through the alleyway, then out onto a charming little riverside pier.

  Simkha told her body to look around. She told her mouth to speak enthusiastically.

  “Oh, this is so cute! And look at all these boats. Are we doing, like, sport rowing?”

  “Mmmhmmm,” agreed Leg Day.

  The pier jutted out from a small riverside square, crowded by stone buildings on one side and brick on the other. Trees shaded the waterfront. The river was a little less than fifty metres across from bank to bank. Just upstream stood Folly Bridge, a stone span built on multiple arches in two segments. According to Mika two years ago, the bridge was built over Oxford’s eponymous ford around two-hundred years ago.

  Simkha wandered down the pier. It was crowded by a variety of cute little boats, each in unique shapes and colors. Except over there, where a gargantuan fibreglass needle of a boat bobbed on its own.

  “So, uh,” said Simkha, “I don’t suppose we’ll be rowing one of these charming little wooden skiffs?”

  “You’re so unappreciative.” Leg Day raised an eyebrow. “Look at this beauty. This sexy little double-scull shell. I rowed her up from Donnington Bridge by myself. Do you really want to take a tourist skiff instead?”

  “I—uh—no?” said Simkha.

  “I’m kidding around.” Leg Day smirked. “I know these racing shells can look intimidating. That’s why Georgie won’t go out with me. Won’t go out rowing. But trust me: these girls are lovely. You’ll be much happier rowing this beauty instead of a clunker.”

  Simkha eyed the huge boat from stem to stern.

  “Well, I guess. But just… why is it so big? It’s gotta be, like, ten metres long.”

  “Oh,” said Leg Day. “Yeah, I dunno.”

  Leg Day narrowed her eyes in thought as she went about preparing for exercise. She pulled off her coverup right there on the dock, revealing a green sports bra and a matching pair of rowing shorts that emphasized her toned legs, butt, and back.

  Simkha forced herself to stop staring. She turned, thought for a moment, then took off her own coverup. Underneath, she wore a teal high-neck compression sports bra and a pair of old sport leggings.

  “I think,” said Leg Day, “the boat has to be long because it’s skinny? Somebody explained this to me once, but I forget who it was or most of what they said. It was like… you have to have a certain amount of overall boat to float two people, right? So you can take away some of the boat on the sides and bottom, and that will make it skinnier and faster. But you have to put that missing boat-space somewhere else. Or you’ll sink. So you can only put the extra boat-space on the front and back?”

  Simkha nodded along.

  “Sure, that makes sense.”

  “Anyway, take these,” said Leg Day. “Strap your feet into them. Get ‘em snug. They’re locking braces, they’ll immobilize your ankles while you row. My uncle got them for me after I sprained an ankle five years ago.”

  “Uh, thanks,” said Simkha.

  Leg Day leaned out over the boat and explained the process of prepping it. Leg Day re-attached the oars to the swivels, locked the oar-gates, then carefully climbed down from the dock and situated herself in the aft seat.

  Leg Day had Simkha stand perpendicular to her on the dock and watch while she demonstrated how to row.

  “Come stand over here,” said Leg Day. “No, I mean here. Okay, I’m gonna show you what proper rowing form looks like while we’re still tethered up. Look at my core, how I’m holding my back nice and straight. Now look at my legs. You’ll push with them, just like this. Can you see how I’m, like, moving the boat beneath me?.”

  “I think so?”

  “All right. Then climb on down to the bow seat. I’ll untether us with an oar. Don’t start rowing yet, just watch my back. Copy my pacing when you decide to join in.”

  “Sure,” said Simkha. “Oh, wow. Look at these oars. They’re, like, actually really long. Will we really fit under the bridge with them?”

  “Under that bridge?” asked Leg Day. “Dunno. We’re going the other way.”

  “Oh,” said Simkha.

  “You can start rowing whenever you want,” said Leg Day. “Don’t let it scare you—I’m certain you can do anything I can do. We’ll start with this relaxed pace. Just try to get comfortable with the movement for now. When you feel good about the movement, that’s when we’ll turn about and really go for it. Give you the proper double-scull experience.”

  As complicated as rowing had looked at the pier, Simkha found that the actually doing it was simple. She thought it felt nice. She had no trouble matching Leg Day’s relaxed pace.

  “So, uh, a minute ago you said something about double skull. What’s that?” asked Simkha.

  “Ahh,” Leg Day said, with an audible grin. “Double-scull is the kind of rowing we’re doing. A ‘scull’ is the name for this kind of oar. It’s shorter, and designed for rowing on both sides. And ‘scull’ is spelled with an ‘S-C’ instead of an ‘S-K.’”

  “That’s less metal,” said Simkha.

  “Yeah,” agreed Led Day, flashing a grin backwards.

  “What makes it ‘double,’ in ‘double scull?’” asked Simkha.

  “It’s ‘double’ because there’s two of us,” said Leg Day.

  Before long, Simkha and Leg Day rowed beneath the Donnington Bridge, which was much wider and more open than the bridge upstream. Leg Day pointed out the eight-shells stored by the rowing club building. She explained a few of the races that started at the bridge every year.

  After that, Simkha felt ready to try out the “proper double-scull experience.” She checked in with her body first. She concentrated on her ankle, realizing that it wasn’t even sore. She was certain she lost some rowing power from having her ankles immobilized, but Leg Day more than made up the difference. She scanned her HUD. Her socialization meter was draining at a steady rate, but her relaxation meter wasn’t depleted at all.

  “All right,” said Simkha. “Let’s really go for it.”

  Leg Day seemed to burst with power as she transitioned to rowing sprints. Simkha watched carefully for a few strokes before joining in.

  Simkha spent the first few minutes focusing on her form, trying to match Leg Day as closely as possible. She gradually transitioned her attention back to Leg Day, admiring the beauty of her straining muscles, the sunlight glistening off her sweaty, powerful back.

  Finally, Simkha entered a state of cardio bliss without even realizing it. The rhythmic straining, pushing, bouncing, and breathing of the sprints transformed into a kind of ecstatic dance—into a heart-pounding expression of joy drawn out of the water with hard work.

  Simkha didn’t know how long they rowed sprints for. They only pausing long enough to turn around whenever they reached the end of the course Leg Day had decided on.

  Finally, Leg Day pulled Simkha back into her body.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Chill out Simmie!” said Leg Day, gasping to catch her breath. “It’s time. To cool down. We’re not. Going hard. On this one. Make it nice and easy. Don’t wanna. overdo it. On your first day. Rowing.”

  “HAAAH—AAAH—’kay-HAAH,” Simkha responded, gasping more acutely than Leg Day.

  “You liked. You liked it?” asked Led Day.

  “Oh my G*d. I loved it,” said Simkha. “I feel. So much. Better. Than before!”

  Leg Day chortled and flopped backwards, grinning at Simkha. She wore an expression of gorgeous exhilaration, her face glistening with sweat. She must’ve felt the same high as Simkha.

  “I love it too,” said Leg Day. “I love it so much. And I’m glad you. Feel better. You seemed down. Earlier.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Simkha breathed. “Yeah, I guess. I kinda realized. How little I know. About Tali. Haah—whooh. And that just. Like, bummed me out.”

  “Huh? What do you mean.”

  “Yeah. There’s so much. I don’t know. I dunno where she’s from. Or why she’s here. Or what she’s been doing. Since we were kids. I don’t even know how old she is.”

  “Mmmh,” said Leg Day. “I don’t think you need to worry about it. Like, Tali is just learning English, right? So you literally can’t learn about her faster than she can learn English..”

  “Maybe,” breathed Simkha. “But I still, like, ugh. It’s just a bummer, you know? How much don’t we have in common? That I don’t know about yet? That she might hate me for? Would she even want… will she really want to be my friend?”

  “Gotcha,” said Leg Day. “But, like. Georgie’d say it’s also something to look forward to? Look forward to the thrill of learning about her. It’ll be okay if you don’t have everything in common. Look at me and Georgie. She’s my person, my closest friend, and we have plenty of differences.”

  “Yeah?” asked Simkha. “But with you and Georgie, they’re not exactly big differences, are they? What if Tali hates me? What if she’d homophobic? What if she thinks I’m boring?”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” said Leg Day.

  “But what if I do.”

  “But you’ll probably not.”

  “But, well… haah.”

  Simkha realized she was moving into a thought spiral. She didn’t want to do that. She put on a smile and glanced at Leg Day.

  “Did you know,” said Leg Day, “I originally wanted to date Georgie?”

  “Huh? What?” said Simkha.

  “Mmmhmmm,” said Leg Day. “Killer crush. She was into it too. But we got into a huge fight. Well, more like we had a huge difference of perspectives. It was a crush-killer.”

  “What happened?” asked Simkha.

  “We talked more and found other stuff we had in common. Found a lot of it. So we became best friends instead of girlfriends. Now we have the best relationship, and that fight doesn’t really matter.”

  “I, uh, see?” lied Simkha.

  “Are you lying?” asked Leg Day.

  “Yeah,” said Simkha.

  “I’m saying that if you and Tali don’t match in some way, you can keep trying. Maybe she’s bored by exercise. That would be fine. She obviously cares about you anyway. I guarantee she cares enough to keep trying. It’s obvious. So you keep trying too. Kep learning about her. You will find stuff you have in common.”

  “Mmm” said Simkha. “ I guess. I’m not that bothered any more anyway. I feel amazing.”

  “Yeah?” said Leg Day “Good. How was your workout on your thingy? Your what’s-it-called. Your HUD?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Simkha. “Hmmm, let me check… looks like… it was great! My social meter barely fell. And, uh, hold on. Wait?”

  “Hah!” said Leg Day. “And wait for what?”

  “It’s my relaxation meter?” said Simkha. “It went… up! Is it broken? How can I have more energy after exhausting myself?”

  “It got better?”

  “Yeah, a lot better.”

  “Mmm,” said Leg Day. “Are you sure it measures relaxation specifically?”

  “Well, no. I was kinda guessing the meaning based off of Tali, like, playing charades.”

  “Well then,” said Leg Day. “Remember the whole ‘spoons’ conversation we had? You seemed exhausted, but mentally instead of physically. We were at Mika’s house. There was that that Mystery-Dinosaur lady too.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Simkha. “So you think it’s like, my mental relaxation instead of physical?”

  “Or something like that. Like, this all makes sense if your HUD measures your, uh, your executive function. Measures your spoons. So it’s not telling you if you need to rest your body. It’s telling you if your brain is, like clogged with neurotransmitters.”

  “Huh,” said Simkha.

  “And exercise could be how you get spoons back!”

  “I guess…” said Simkha. “I don’t really wanna be one of those ‘I work out to relax’ people.”

  “On behalf of jocks everywhere, I’m offended.”

  “Eat shit,” said Simkha.

  Leg Day cackled.

  “I guess" Simkha sighed melodramatically. "I’m a jock now. Like… the HUD says that relaxed me. And I do feel like I could do a lot more stuff right now. I could… uh, write a paper? I could email my professor from last week. I should email my professor from last week, since I missed that exam.”

  “Oh yikes,” said Leg Day. “Yeah. You probably should.”

  “I will.”

  “You could do that right now if you want,” said Leg Day. “Do you know how to open that waterproof bag?

  “I will, but the pier is right there,” said Simkha.

  “Sure,” said Leg Day. “Help me tie up. Then you email your professor while I break down the boat.”

  “Okay,” said Simkha.

  Simkha let Leg Day maneuver them back to the dock. She held the lines that Leg Day told her to hold and steadied the boat while Leg Day climbed up on the dock to secure the shell. Simkha let Leg Day help her onto the pier.

  Simkha grabbed her phone out of the waterproof bag. She opened her email app and started to meander towards the riverside square when—

  BZZZ—BZZZ—BZZZ—BZZZ—BZZZ

  —a call came in.

  INCOMING CALL

  First Oxford City Fird

  Decline ? ? ? Accept

  Simkha frowned.

  What? No really, what the fuck? The cops were calling her? No, the cops would never call her. This had to be a spam call.

  Simkha moved to tap the “decline” button, but froze. She thought of one reason for the cops to call her. She felt her hands start to shake.

  Simkha tapped “accept.” She raised the phone to her ear.

  “Hello,” said a middle-aged man’s voice. “This is Captain Jaques Desturias, calling from the First Oxford Fird Outpost – Third District. Am I speaking to Ms.—uhhh— to Ms. Simkha Battouri?”

  “Uh,” said Simkha. “Y-yeah. That’s m-m-me.”

  “Do you know a person who goes by the name Talitha Cohen?”

  “Uh,” said Simkha. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Good. Please come down to St. Aldates’ Fird Outpost as soon as you can. Ms. Cohen has been arrested and, well, we can’t seem to communicate with her. We can’t even ID her language. We hope you can get through to her because she keeps repeating your name. We looked you up in the University database.”

  “Uh,” said Simkha. “I—well. Okay. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “All right, Ms. Battouri. We’ll be waiting.”

  First Oxford City Fird

  CALL ENDED