"Ah-ah-ah. That's one of the things you don't ask, y'know?" The better part of the morning had Cherry jogging around the track to blow off steam, but by now she'd migrated to a seat at the edge of the field. "Same thing as weight or politics. It's, like, a faux pas."
She squints up into the sun. Ignoring Gemma was never the intent. Her nay-saying only serves to buy more time to put together an answer.
With a small grunt, Cherry falls back, limbs spread wide, ready to make a grass angel. If she keeps her eyes on the sky, it's easy to pretend she's somewhere else. She doesn't have to try to escape the campus to go on a vacation in her mind.
"Sure you don't mean it that way, babes, it just sounds kinda accuse-y." Her nose wrinkles. It comes off more harshly than she'd meant it. "I'm not a mustache-twirling villain, and I'm not an actress. I don't have 'plays'." Not anymore, at least. There was no popularity contest for the dead, and anyone who would have shunned her if they'd known her true colors back then had long since graduated. Maybe some of them were even so blessed as to eke out a ghostly existence beyond the school. How far could they roam? If being caged was her punishment, it was surely deserved.
She pats the turf beside her. It's an invitation.
"Right now? I'm vibing. Sky's so big. Could be the sky here, then I close my eyes, and it's the sky back home." She closes her eyes to demonstrate. "First home, I mean." One eye opens. She turns her head toward Gemma. "Brazil." Back to the sky. "Didn't miss it so much when I was alive, but now that I'm stuck here? Wisconsin has a serious lack of samba." Her sigh is wistful, if exaggerated. It's probably okay to admit this much, if only because it's too late for her to admit that she never understood the question in the first place. It had caught her off-guard, the words so startlingly pointed from someone so gentle and so genuine.
"That's my play," Cherry decides. "I've spent decades subliminally messaging everyone, and eventually, we'll all band together to have our own Carnaval do Split River." She almost feels bad, twisting the sentiment around, but a vague question gets a vague answer. That's how the game works, the way it's always been. "I'm also scheming to get everyone on board with The Hidden Fortress for movie night. Squint and use your imagination, and it's totally Star Wars."
She props herself up on an elbow and leans toward her curious companion. "You must have a play if you're asking about mine." Sorry, Gemma. Cherry can't show her hand that easily, but there's all the time in the world to break down barriers.
@splitrivers asked: " what is your play here, really ? "