Sara socalong's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Scarlett came back at sundown. Sara was still by the fountain when she heard the boots stop in front of her. The man she had claimed at noon stood a few paces off, the token still in his fist. Scarlett did not look at him. She looked at Sara's belly. "One contest," she said. "Burps. Loser rubs the winner's belly until the winner says stop." Sara stood up slow. She pulled a folded page from her pocket, sealed under clear resin with her name on it, and held it up so the man could see. "Then we sign," Sara said. Scarlett pressed her thumb to the resin. So did Sara. They walked to the raised stone slab at the edge of the square, the one ringed with bright crystals and patched with glowing moss. A crowd followed. Word moved fast. Men set down their drinks at the food stalls and crossed over. Someone dragged a curved stone chair to the foot of the slab and set it facing the crowd. The armrests caught the light from the crystals and threw it back blue. Everyone knew what the chair was for. Sara set the sealed page on the seat so the ink showed. Sara climbed up first. Scarlett climbed up after. They stood three steps apart. Sara lifted her shirt to the bottom of her ribs and rested both hands on her belly. Scarlett did the same. The man Sara had claimed pushed to the front. He did not pick a side. He watched. Scarlett went first. She drew in a long breath, pressed her palm under her belly, and let out a burp that rolled across the square like a dropped barrel. The crowd cheered. Sara answered with one of her own, lower, longer. The cheer got louder. Scarlett went again, sharper. Sara matched it. They traded burps back and forth, rubbing their bellies in slow circles to push more air up. Sara kept her free hand still at her side. Scarlett's free hand kept moving, tugging her shirt, brushing her hair. Sara filed it. On the eighth round Scarlett's burp came short. She coughed at the end of it. Sara drew in deep, set both hands flat under her stomach, and pushed out a burp so loud the men at the back of the crowd whooped. Scarlett opened her mouth. Nothing came. She closed it. She tried once more and got a small dry sound. The crowd went quiet, then started to laugh. Scarlett stepped back. "Yours," she said. Sara picked up the sealed page from the chair and sat down in it herself. She pointed at the stone floor in front of her boots. Scarlett knelt. She put both hands on Sara's belly and began to rub, slow, the way the contract said. The man stepped up beside the chair and watched Scarlett's hands work. He did not look away. Sara did not say stop.