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Chapter 7 – Caroline doesn't matter.

   After what seemed like a few hours, I skidded to a halt, doubling over against a tree, my thighs and my stomach burning worse than I had ever felt. I heard no noise around me but the singing of birds. I slumped against the tree to catch my breath, leaning my head back on the gnarled limbs. The tree was slightly bowl-shaped, so it made a good chair. I opened my eyes and the world came back into focus. A soft green light filtered through the treetops and sent beautiful shadows cascading against the old grey trees.

   Dad… Dad are you there?...

   The forest was eerily silent. I whimpered.

   I need you right now…

   I had forgotten my hoodie at Reds house…

   Shit…

   The air seemed colder, and I curled around myself, hugging my knees and closing my eyes. I thought about my dad. A memory flooded back, from when he was alive. I was on the swing, he was pushing me. I screamed to go higher and I heard his laugh. It was a musical chortle that melted away any worries. It was the healer of all things. I smiled a little, but the pleasant memory was rudely interrupted by Caroline. She walked into my room holding the yellow paper, chewing a stick of bubble gum and looking how she usually did. She tossed the paper onto my bed and walked out without saying anything. This was an unusual event. She never associated with me. I took the paper, confused, and began to read.

Dear Family,

We regret to inform you that a member of your family, Sergeant William G. S. Haskin, has died fighting in battle for the United States of America. It is a great loss to our Country. Sergeant Haskin was an extraordinary man. He was a great addition to his Platoon. Unfortunately, his camp was attacked in the early hours of the morning of June 14th, 2003. All the soldiers in the Platoon were killed but a few. Your husband/father fought bravely and saved many of his comrades' lives. We are praying for Sergeant Haskin, and a funeral is in place. He will arrive at 10:15 PM on June 18th, 2003. The Royal Regiment has issued a memorial, and you will be escorted to the burial site when the funeral commences. We are very sorry for your loss, we are praying for you. Thank you.

The United States Marine Corps.

   I stared straight ahead, reaching into my pocket to read the letter, but it was gone. I pulled out something else instead.

   I looked at the picture, two white blobs, grinning. My face streaked with paint and our hair a white mess on our heads. I raised a hand to my mouth and stared at it, my eyes filling with tears. Red's smiling face lit up the picture. My mind flashed back to the memory.

   We finished one wall and she turned to me. "Hey Brooke…"

   I could sense something playful in her voice, I turned to her, not really sure what she was going to do, "What?"

   I gasped as a long thick splat of cold paint exploded against my face with a sick "Thup" sound.

   Red snickered and watched as I raised a hand to my mouth, wiping it off my lips with a disgusted look.

   Without thinking, I ran my roller up my hand and coated it with paint, smearing a big handprint across Reds features.

   She gasped, her skin seemed black in contrast to the bright white paint.

   Before we knew it, we were slinging paint everywhere; it was in our hair, all over our clothes and the floor. Our faces were smeared with the stuff.

   I sighed, staring at the picture.

   I glanced up, noticing a few marks on the tree limb above me. The limb hung down, almost at eye level, there was something carved into it.

   I squinted, leaning closer to it. It was a heart, and in it was written the name "Brooke".

   My heart sank, I felt dizzy. I noticed a hole in the same limb, a knot that had rotted out. I reached in and pulled out a notebook.

   I flipped through it, it was full of pictures… There was a picture of me sitting at my desk, drawing and looking bored out of my mind. Next was a picture of me standing over a desk, holding a book.

   I smiled at the next one, it was Red and I on the bus, laughing. Then it was a little girl with brown hair, blue at the bottom, standing in the rain, her white dress stained with blue.

   I laughed, flipping through her book some more, happy memories.

   There was a picture of me with my fist planted into the ugly face of a boy. I snickered.

   That was a good shot…

   I admired it, flipping to the next page. It was a picture of Caroline, only she had red skin and devil horns, she was carrying a pitchfork.

   I laughed again, "So true…"

   I flipped over one more page and gazed down at a picture. It was a kiss, two girls, one with long brown hair, and the other with short red and black hair. It was Red and I… I stared at it for a long while. Our jaws were outlined carefully by light and shadows, the russet contours of her skin, and the tiny freckles around my cheeks. I smiled, brushing my finger gently over the place where our lips touched. She was beautiful even in still life.

   I closed the notebook after a few minutes, gazing down at the picture that Chris had taken again.

   Our paint-streaked faces were happy, laughing. I knew then that Caroline didn't matter.