Age 14 - Part 1

The carefully crafted wooden weapon sailed through the air, spinning viciously. Izzy watched it strike the grass four feet to the right and three behind the tree stump that had been its target. Another boomerang came flying toward the stump. This one was on a perfect line, but lacked the energy of the first. It fell to the ground ten feet short of the stump.

Izzy gathered the weapons up and sprinted the sixty yards back to her friends. “All arms and legs,” was how her prime uncle had often described her when she was younger. Now, at fourteen, her body was beginning to catch up with her limbs. She was skinny now - no longer “scrawny”. Puberty was beginning to shape her hips, and with the right clothes at the right angle, the shape of her chest would reveal what might generously be described as boobs.

She was not wearing such clothes. Years ago she had learned that she would never keep up with the boys - her friends and her brother - encumbered by dresses. Her entire outfit, except the cap, was made from her brother’s hand-me-downs. At first, years ago, her prime uncle had altered Dante’s old clothes to fit her, but since then she had learned to do it herself, to avoid the recurring argument with her mother about when she was going to start acting like a girl.

She handed the first boomerang back to Dante, her brother. He was sixteen - tied with Vic as the oldest of the group. He was tall with broad shoulders and big hands. His body had enough power to throw the wooden wing all the way to the target. He had cheekbones that made his smile seem wider than his face, and he had curly brown hair, like hers.

The other boomerang was given back to Joey, a boy just a little older than her. His body, too, was still transitioning from childhood. He hadn’t put on enough muscle for a really good throw yet. His hair was always wild, a little shaggy. Izzy figured this was partly because his family didn’t have much money, but mostly because he hadn’t figured out how important good grooming was when competing for visiting circuit girls. “That was really good aim!” Izzy told him encouragingly.

“Let me see the returning one,” Vic asked Phil. He threw the specially-tuned boomerang into the air at nothing in particular. Thirty yards out and high above the ground it turned, slowly, and came flying back toward the teens, to return to Vic’s hands.

Vic had started wearing his hair in a topknot recently. He wasn’t the tallest or strongest boy, but Izzy knew from watching the boys swim naked that he had them all beat in another category.

Phil, who had just turned fifteen, had close-cut hair like the militia captain. It was he who had been carving and sanding the wooden projectiles that had become the gang’s hobby. It had started six months ago with basic weighted throw-sticks, but he had become obsessed after reading about boomerangs in a before-bunker book. The archivist had been so impressed by his interest that she let him into the bunker a few times, to watch videos on the bunker’s one still-functioning computer. “Maybe you’ll help bring airplanes back one day,” she had told him hopefully.

“All right, check it out,” Vic told his friends, “around the tree and right back into my hand.”

He threw the returning boomerang to the right of a lone tree, not too far away. It sailed past the tree, turned around, and looked as if it would clear the other side, but then it clipped through some leaves, wobbled, and fell to the earth. Izzy dashed to the tree to retrieve it, and then handed it back to Vic.

“All right, all right. I’ve got it this time,” Vic assured his friends, and threw again. This time the boomerang wedged itself firmly in the branches of the tree.

“Crap! Do you know how much work I put into that?” Phil moaned.

“Relax, we’ll get it,” Dante assured him.

For the next few minutes the boys threw rocks, jumped and grabbed at leaves, and cursed. Phil tried to climb the tree, but there were no branches low enough for him to get a good hold on.

“I can get it! Give me a boost!” Izzy volunteered.

The boys had no problem lifting the waifish girl over their heads, high enough for her to climb onto the big branch. She shimmied along, enduring leaves and a spider’s web in her face, until she reached the lost tool, dislodged it, and threw it back down. Then, holding onto a smaller, more flexible branch, she let her body drop down low enough for her friends to catch her.

After a few more throws, the boys walked to the town center to wait for the truck carrying circuit girls from the town of Crater. These were girls who were visiting Appa to find sires to give them children. They would let instinct guide them in choosing men with different enough genes to give them the best chances for healthy babies. The boys were, of course, eager to do their part in saving the human race from its genetic crisis, given that their part meant having sex with eager ovulating young women.

Four women got off the truck from Crater; each was given a ribbon to wear around her neck, to advertise her purpose. Four men got off the truck too, each given an armband. These were the Crater girls’ chaperones.

Joey tried his luck with the bucktoothed girl with bangs. She wasn’t especially pretty, but she had no shortage of men wanting to take her home. It was mostly the less confident, less attractive men who sought her out: they knew they couldn’t compete with the hunks like Dante and Vic for the pretty girls. Joey had been presenting himself to circuit girls for a few months now, but so far hadn’t had any luck. Few girls were willing to consider a fourteen year old.

Vic and Phil competed for the tall twenty-year-old with bleached hair. She talked with her hands a lot. Izzy didn’t get a chance to see how it ended, but Vic’s bravado had been making an impression with her.