"I just couldn't resist."
"Only sacred things deserve to be messed with."
It all ended with a dead kid near the train tracks.
Six years later, the story repeats itself and two long-forgotten friends might find out that when death tries to play match...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The clouds today are frothy like foamed milk, white against a deep cerulean sky. My hand is huge as it envelopes Jenna's small fist, her tiny fingers holding tightly the side of my palm as she walks by my side. Her feet hit the pavement three times for each one of my strides, and I slow down to make sure she can follow.
"Everyone in my class wants to be a doctor," she tells me.
She pretends to smoke, two fingers against her puckered lips, then watches the cloud of vapor escape from her mouth as she breathes out in the freezing air.
"And what do you want to be when you grow up?" I ask.
"I don't know. Maybe a mermaid."
I smile. Children's dreams are so precious.
"You know what? You can be whatever you want when you're older."
She laughs, skipping on the icy sidewalk and tugging on my hand as I diligently follow.
Today is my turn to walk her to school, something I haven't done in a while. Kristen usually takes care of it, but she had an oral presentation this morning and needed more time to practise.
"How old are you?" my sister suddenly asks.
Burried in her second-hand pink winter coat, she looks like a small cupcake, her red pompom beanie like the cherry on top of her head.
"I just turned eighteen."
She gasps.
"That's so old!"
"Right..."
We reach the train tracks but the barrier is down, the dinging bell announcing the imminent passage of a train. Jenna jumps in excitement, looking left and right for the train to come. The locomotive is a bright orange, followed by grey industrial wagons.
The ground vibrates as it passes.
"That's such a long train!" the girl notes, then starts counting every passing wagon.
An ambulance comes by, sirens blaring and driving fast towards the traffic. Cars pull asside so it can pass, but the vehicle stays stuck behind the line of the train.
Jenna takes back her hand to cover her ears, scowling at the noise. The lights flash blue and red in a futile attempt to make the train go faster, but it won't.
The unending flow of wagons seems infinite and almost five minutes later we are still standing there, me and Jenna, the passing train, the ambulance and the lengthening line of cars accumulating on this side of the road.
