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Description
She sat on the curb, watching the movement. Rushing cars, running children, all eager to go home. Vibrant colours, reflective vests and bright red stop signs stood out amongst the living mass of colour. Sunlight punctuated the scene with shadows, constantly shifting. Younger children led by their older siblings across the road, cars honking at each other, strollers wheeling by, pushed by young mothers and fathers, all moving against each other, with a flow. Still, she sat. Listened to the squealing stroller wheels, shrieking kids, buddies calling out to one another, girlfriends laughing and talking, sharing the latest gossip. Piercing whistles from the crossing guards, a mother yelling at her twins, stressed thin and point four seconds away from breaking beyond repair. Soon, the noise calmed, the movement slowed. The mother pulled herself together and stormed away, hauling her kids and their gear with her. The last few stragglers crossed the street hurriedly, anxious from being kept back. Three short bursts from the whistles and the crossing guards gathered their equipment- fluorescent orange pylons and dropped stop signs- and left the scene. Moving as one, like clockwork back to the school. Soon, even they left. Revving engines, peeling away as fast as they could from the premisis. Still she sat, listening to the birds calling loudly to one another in the trees. Leaves rustling together as a soft breeze drifted by. Distant sounds of car engines passing the school, each one bringing a bitter flare of excitement to her chest. Another breeze, this one stronger, pulled her curling red hair out from behind her ears. A leaf drifted past, greenness contrasting starkly with the black pavement. The sun inched a little farther in the sky and she sighed. Removed her backpack and lay it in the grass next to her. Boredom set it as the wind picked up. "Typical," she muttered, then lay down in the grass next to her pack. Time passed as she listened for the distinctive whine of her father's engine. Cars passed, but none stopped. The birds' tunes changed. Less urgent and more soothing to her ears. She breathed deep, turning her head to the side in an attempt to pick up the earthy smell of the grass out of the rankness of the town's stench. It penetrated everything. A heavy smell, one of too many people and animals, crammed into a small space. The scents of oily mud and burning rubber wafted over from the road and she opened eyes. It was almost summer and now, the same people who'd just left the school had changed out of their heavy uniforms and into their too short short-shorts and low-cut tees, soaking up as much sun as possible before the brief summer ended. She glared at the girls as the passed in the distance, saw them glance over and laugh. Dark thoughts entered her mind and blocked out everything else. If only they knew what she'd been through-
"Hey there." She jumped at the voice and quickly sat up to look at her visitor. "Oh, hey, sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you." The speaker was a boy in his mid teens. He wore dark denim jeans and a loose-fitting forest green hoodie over a white tee. Black combat boots laced tight over his slightly baggy jeans. Shaggy brown hair partially covered his eyes, and softened his strong jaw line. "It's okay. I was just... thinking."
"About what?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing, really."
"Well, you look bored, mind if I take a seat?" She looked him over again, quickly. "Only if you promise not to pull that knife on me." He stared in surprise. "Good eyes. You're the first person in a very long time to notice it." He bent down and pulled the four-inch blade from his left boot then sat down. "You normally have one in each boot, one in your pocket and one up your sleeve." She stated simply. He stared long and hard at her, hazel-gold eyes taking her in through their mask of brown hair. "You're good," he said as she took the knife.
"I lived in the bush for most of my life. You learn to spot things like that. Besides, your boots are too obvious. I knew you had one there because I saw the hilt sticking out. I just guessed about the other boot. You normally have one in your pocket because you patted your left pocket out of reflex as you bent down and you shook your right sleeve. Just barely." She tested the blade on her thumb.
"Christ, girl, you're good." She smirked at him. "I have to be."
"Mind if I ask what that means?"
"You can ask, but what makes you think I'll answer?"
"Well, you're clearly waiting for someone. How about a game?" She turned and threw the knife into the nearest tree. "What kind of game?" He looked at her sideways and stood. Retrieved his knife, sliding it back into his boot. The hilt no longer stuck out. "You ask me one question, I answer. I ask you one question, you answer. After twenty questions, the one who gave the most about their past gets to dare the other to do anything they want. Anything." He winked and sat down again. Her blue eyes darkened, but she agreed. "You first," he said. "Fine. What's your name?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"It's my turn!" He chuckled and replied "Okay, okay. Eduardo Garcia." She glanced at him in surprise. "You don't look Mexican. Or any type of 'an' other than American."
"I'm not. My mother married a Garcia dude and named me Eduardo after him, even though he's not my father. With that, what's your name?"
Again she smiled, almost to herself and looked into the sun. "Dawn."
"No last name?" She fake glared at him and said "Kist." Eduardo grinned. "Oh I bet you had a blast when you were young."
"I sure did. What's your age, Eduardo?"
Before he could answer, a grey Toyota pulled up. "Dawn!" he called. She glowered. "Sorry Eduardo, that's my father." He helped her up. "Can we continue this coversation tomorrow?" "that depends. Will you answer my question?"
He smirked and gave her her pack. "Seventeen."
"Perfect. Then, yes. And, thanks. For waiting with me. And my bag." She smiled and waved as she got into her father's vehicle. Watched in the rearview mirror as Eduardo sat back down and started retying his boots. "Who was that?"
She glared at him. "How about you don't ask me that-as though you care- and I won't ask you which bar you'd been at?" Her father sighed and said "I'm sorry, Dawn. I forgot."
"Again. I'd just walk home, if you didn't live twenty miles away."
"Look, can you forgive me?" dark clouds settled in the sky, and silence settled in the car.
"Will you tell me who that was?"
Silence.
"Look, I just don't want you getting hurt by some random guy-"
"He didn't hurt me."
"I'm just saying-"
"Don't, dad. Just take me home."
Rain started sheeting down just as they turned on to the highway. Dawn thought back to that stranger, the same age as her, and knew she'd see him the next day. Her father always forgot about her. Maybe one day, she'd forget about him.

Description
She sat on the curb, watching the movement. Rushing cars, running children, all eager to go home. Vibrant colours, reflective vests and bright red stop signs stood out amongst the living mass of colour. Sunlight punctuated the scene with shadows, constantly shifting. Younger children led by their older siblings across the road, cars honking at each other, strollers wheeling by, pushed by young mothers and fathers, all moving against each other, with a flow. Still, she sat. Listened to the squealing stroller wheels, shrieking kids, buddies calling out to one another, girlfriends laughing and talking, sharing the latest gossip. Piercing whistles from the crossing guards, a mother yelling at her twins, stressed thin and point four seconds away from breaking beyond repair. Soon, the noise calmed, the movement slowed. The mother pulled herself together and stormed away, hauling her kids and their gear with her. The last few stragglers crossed the street hurriedly, anxious from being kept back. Three short bursts from the whistles and the crossing guards gathered their equipment- fluorescent orange pylons and dropped stop signs- and left the scene. Moving as one, like clockwork back to the school. Soon, even they left. Revving engines, peeling away as fast as they could from the premisis. Still she sat, listening to the birds calling loudly to one another in the trees. Leaves rustling together as a soft breeze drifted by. Distant sounds of car engines passing the school, each one bringing a bitter flare of excitement to her chest. Another breeze, this one stronger, pulled her curling red hair out from behind her ears. A leaf drifted past, greenness contrasting starkly with the black pavement. The sun inched a little farther in the sky and she sighed. Removed her backpack and lay it in the grass next to her. Boredom set it as the wind picked up. "Typical," she muttered, then lay down in the grass next to her pack. Time passed as she listened for the distinctive whine of her father's engine. Cars passed, but none stopped. The birds' tunes changed. Less urgent and more soothing to her ears. She breathed deep, turning her head to the side in an attempt to pick up the earthy smell of the grass out of the rankness of the town's stench. It penetrated everything. A heavy smell, one of too many people and animals, crammed into a small space. The scents of oily mud and burning rubber wafted over from the road and she opened eyes. It was almost summer and now, the same people who'd just left the school had changed out of their heavy uniforms and into their too short short-shorts and low-cut tees, soaking up as much sun as possible before the brief summer ended. She glared at the girls as the passed in the distance, saw them glance over and laugh. Dark thoughts entered her mind and blocked out everything else. If only they knew what she'd been through-
"Hey there." She jumped at the voice and quickly sat up to look at her visitor. "Oh, hey, sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you." The speaker was a boy in his mid teens. He wore dark denim jeans and a loose-fitting forest green hoodie over a white tee. Black combat boots laced tight over his slightly baggy jeans. Shaggy brown hair partially covered his eyes, and softened his strong jaw line. "It's okay. I was just... thinking."
"About what?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing, really."
"Well, you look bored, mind if I take a seat?" She looked him over again, quickly. "Only if you promise not to pull that knife on me." He stared in surprise. "Good eyes. You're the first person in a very long time to notice it." He bent down and pulled the four-inch blade from his left boot then sat down. "You normally have one in each boot, one in your pocket and one up your sleeve." She stated simply. He stared long and hard at her, hazel-gold eyes taking her in through their mask of brown hair. "You're good," he said as she took the knife.
"I lived in the bush for most of my life. You learn to spot things like that. Besides, your boots are too obvious. I knew you had one there because I saw the hilt sticking out. I just guessed about the other boot. You normally have one in your pocket because you patted your left pocket out of reflex as you bent down and you shook your right sleeve. Just barely." She tested the blade on her thumb.
"Christ, girl, you're good." She smirked at him. "I have to be."
"Mind if I ask what that means?"
"You can ask, but what makes you think I'll answer?"
"Well, you're clearly waiting for someone. How about a game?" She turned and threw the knife into the nearest tree. "What kind of game?" He looked at her sideways and stood. Retrieved his knife, sliding it back into his boot. The hilt no longer stuck out. "You ask me one question, I answer. I ask you one question, you answer. After twenty questions, the one who gave the most about their past gets to dare the other to do anything they want. Anything." He winked and sat down again. Her blue eyes darkened, but she agreed. "You first," he said. "Fine. What's your name?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"It's my turn!" He chuckled and replied "Okay, okay. Eduardo Garcia." She glanced at him in surprise. "You don't look Mexican. Or any type of 'an' other than American."
"I'm not. My mother married a Garcia dude and named me Eduardo after him, even though he's not my father. With that, what's your name?"
Again she smiled, almost to herself and looked into the sun. "Dawn."
"No last name?" She fake glared at him and said "Kist." Eduardo grinned. "Oh I bet you had a blast when you were young."
"I sure did. What's your age, Eduardo?"
Before he could answer, a grey Toyota pulled up. "Dawn!" he called. She glowered. "Sorry Eduardo, that's my father." He helped her up. "Can we continue this coversation tomorrow?" "that depends. Will you answer my question?"
He smirked and gave her her pack. "Seventeen."
"Perfect. Then, yes. And, thanks. For waiting with me. And my bag." She smiled and waved as she got into her father's vehicle. Watched in the rearview mirror as Eduardo sat back down and started retying his boots. "Who was that?"
She glared at him. "How about you don't ask me that-as though you care- and I won't ask you which bar you'd been at?" Her father sighed and said "I'm sorry, Dawn. I forgot."
"Again. I'd just walk home, if you didn't live twenty miles away."
"Look, can you forgive me?" dark clouds settled in the sky, and silence settled in the car.
"Will you tell me who that was?"
Silence.
"Look, I just don't want you getting hurt by some random guy-"
"He didn't hurt me."
"I'm just saying-"
"Don't, dad. Just take me home."
Rain started sheeting down just as they turned on to the highway. Dawn thought back to that stranger, the same age as her, and knew she'd see him the next day. Her father always forgot about her. Maybe one day, she'd forget about him.