The fluff falling from the cottonwood trees painted the sky like dots of snow, drifting lazily from side to side, forcing a slow path shaped like a rocking chair's legs down to the ground. The girl standing transfixed by the sight was eight years, three months, and thirteen days old. Sun-kissed, brown as a berry from lazy days spent in the lengthening spring sun, face littered with freckles, she grinned in a gap-toothed, awestruck way.
Soon, summer would be here, and no school, and that meant causing all sorts of trouble with her best friends, Pam and Julie. Sometimes, when it was just the three of them, they talked about running away to Mexico where Julie's family came from once upon a time. It sounded magical, all sand and water and swimming and green-on-earth, and pyramids and jungles and exotic birds and butterflies. We can't just go to Mexico, Rachel, Pammy had said in a hushed voice, it's dangerous. Pam's father was a cop so everything was dangerous, from the weapons he kept at their house to a trip to the corner store for bubble gum.
It's not dangerous, Julie retorted, lower lip out in defiance. The truth was that she'd never been. Born and bred in the United States, she didn't really want to go any further south than they already were. For her family, the danger of Mexico took on a whole different connotation and now, with places like Arizona being stupid about people like them, she didn't even want to go there. Besides, Pam told her how her dad had warned her one time that there was a lot of money changing hands down there over girls like her and her friends, and if people weren't careful they could find themselves being bought and sold.
Some days, Rachel mused to her friends, I wouldn't mind it if someone sold me to another family. They all laughed over that one because they'd all had the thought at one point or another. When they were just six -- it seemed like ages ago -- they'd hatched this plot to switch places with each other at night and see how long it took their families to realize the wrong kid was in their house. Rachel bet her own parents wouldn't notice for three whole days. They all agreed Pam's family would be the hardest because her dad had such an eagle eye for detail or couldn't be a policeman, even if everyone knew they really spent their nights eating donuts and drinking coffee down at Dunkin Donuts on 34th. They figured out of the three of them, Rachel stood the best chance at fooling Julie's family for a day or two, but the problem with their plan was that they were going to have to stay up past midnight, sneak to each others' houses, and switch places without anyone noticing.
Julie's little brother was a brat and said he'd tell. They never could stay up til midnight anyway and eventually forgot all about their plan.
It seemed like such a long time ago, now that she thought of it. The cottonwood swirled around in the skies. It made her sneeze sometimes, right into her cupped hands and in those moments she always noticed the weight of her brother's watch on her wrist. It was so weird the day she came home and found him hanging in the garage. At first she didn't even know he was dead, not until she told him to cut it out and get down from there or Dad would kill him.
She'd regretted that choice of words every day since, and now all she had was his watch. By now, his body had to be all eaten up by worms and stuff and idly, she wondered if they had worms in Mexico. Worms that they didn't put in bottles of alcohol and that didn't jump around in beans, but the kind that could keep her brother company in the ground.
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Date: 2011-02-22 02:07 am (UTC)Soon, summer would be here, and no school, and that meant causing all sorts of trouble with her best friends, Pam and Julie. Sometimes, when it was just the three of them, they talked about running away to Mexico where Julie's family came from once upon a time. It sounded magical, all sand and water and swimming and green-on-earth, and pyramids and jungles and exotic birds and butterflies. We can't just go to Mexico, Rachel, Pammy had said in a hushed voice, it's dangerous. Pam's father was a cop so everything was dangerous, from the weapons he kept at their house to a trip to the corner store for bubble gum.
It's not dangerous, Julie retorted, lower lip out in defiance. The truth was that she'd never been. Born and bred in the United States, she didn't really want to go any further south than they already were. For her family, the danger of Mexico took on a whole different connotation and now, with places like Arizona being stupid about people like them, she didn't even want to go there. Besides, Pam told her how her dad had warned her one time that there was a lot of money changing hands down there over girls like her and her friends, and if people weren't careful they could find themselves being bought and sold.
Some days, Rachel mused to her friends, I wouldn't mind it if someone sold me to another family. They all laughed over that one because they'd all had the thought at one point or another. When they were just six -- it seemed like ages ago -- they'd hatched this plot to switch places with each other at night and see how long it took their families to realize the wrong kid was in their house. Rachel bet her own parents wouldn't notice for three whole days. They all agreed Pam's family would be the hardest because her dad had such an eagle eye for detail or couldn't be a policeman, even if everyone knew they really spent their nights eating donuts and drinking coffee down at Dunkin Donuts on 34th. They figured out of the three of them, Rachel stood the best chance at fooling Julie's family for a day or two, but the problem with their plan was that they were going to have to stay up past midnight, sneak to each others' houses, and switch places without anyone noticing.
Julie's little brother was a brat and said he'd tell. They never could stay up til midnight anyway and eventually forgot all about their plan.
It seemed like such a long time ago, now that she thought of it. The cottonwood swirled around in the skies. It made her sneeze sometimes, right into her cupped hands and in those moments she always noticed the weight of her brother's watch on her wrist. It was so weird the day she came home and found him hanging in the garage. At first she didn't even know he was dead, not until she told him to cut it out and get down from there or Dad would kill him.
She'd regretted that choice of words every day since, and now all she had was his watch. By now, his body had to be all eaten up by worms and stuff and idly, she wondered if they had worms in Mexico. Worms that they didn't put in bottles of alcohol and that didn't jump around in beans, but the kind that could keep her brother company in the ground.