Last year, everyone in the house piled into the aging Volvo (a vehicle without much going for it aside gets-you-where-you're-going and has-decent-cargo-space-I-guess) and Calla drove them to the traveling carnival. Blue rode every fast ride she was allowed onto -- argued (unsuccessfully) with a particularly disinterested ride-worker about the unfairness of the height requirements on the rickety rollercoaster -- and wished fervently that she could be having hot dogs and cotton candy instead of the homemade sandwiches Maura magicked up from her purse as the sun went down.
They played none of the midway games (scams, Calla scoffed) even though the stuffed animal prizes tugged hard on Blue's soul. Persephone paid five dollars to have her palm read in a rickety little tent with stars painted on it. The genericness of the fortunes told entirely made up by the showmanship of the so-called fortune teller inside.
But, most importantly, Maura took Blue down to the small petting zoo set up on the very edges of the carnival. They bought one small cone of animal feed and waded into the fray. The little enclosure smelt of saw dust and animal droppings and the cute baby goats were desperately outnumbered by the people wanting to pet them. The bigger goats roamed around eying white paper cones clutched in sticky hands, butting their heads against hips and elbows in their attempts to get at the little food pellets.
A deer stood shoulders above the rest of the animals with soft and gentle eyes. Disinterested in handfuls of animal feed offered out to her, she shifted out of the way of each attempted touch. Blue spent an eternity in that tent, slowly inching her way closer, letting the doe get used to her scent, before holding out a mostly-clean hand, and waiting until her arm trembled with the effort. Finally, the doe allowed Blue one gentle pet. Blue's fingers astounded by the softness of her ears before she darted away.
Forest-boy reminds her of that doe when he stops just out of her reach and offers his cast out. Every line of his body seems to signal that he's ready to dart back into the trees. So it's with a solemn look on her face that she steps forward, and tugs the cap off the sharpie. Decisively, she snaps it onto the back of the sharpie and reaches out her left hand to support his wrist.
"I'm going to add some vines and leaves too," she tells him. Fact rather than statement. He's a boy, so she won't do little flowers.
First thing first though, she neatly prints her name (B L U E) across a finger's length of the bright orange cast. There's a look of intense concentration on her face, her tongue trapped between her teeth and a frown bearing down on her brow. Once the letters are finished, she begins on the winding vines.
Fingers and eyes locked on her task, Blue's mind is left free to roam. Forest-boy is more of a mystery than she thought when she first saw him. He looks old enough to go to school, but he doesn't go to her school. Blue knows because everyone knows everyone in the little elementary school. And there are no other schools in town. Blue knows for certain because when she begged Maura to send her to any other school but That One, after her first day of first grade, they spent an evening researching the nearest elementary schools and marking them on a map. Children his age are required (by the law) to go to school. Blue knows that from the same evening when their pins on the map all proved too far to travel daily and she said she'd just not go to school then and learn everything she needed from books instead. Patiently, Maura helped her look up school laws, and by the end of the evening, Blue was resigned to her fate.
So, by not going to school, he is basically a criminal. Or his parents are. Maybe he's a runaway. Maybe his whole family are runaways. On the run from the law for some-- diamond heist or something.
With a flourish, Blue finishes the last leaf and looks up at the boy.
"You have to tell me your name now," she tells him. Her eyes dart down to her name on his cast and back up again. It's only fair.
no subject
They played none of the midway games (scams, Calla scoffed) even though the stuffed animal prizes tugged hard on Blue's soul. Persephone paid five dollars to have her palm read in a rickety little tent with stars painted on it. The genericness of the fortunes told entirely made up by the showmanship of the so-called fortune teller inside.
But, most importantly, Maura took Blue down to the small petting zoo set up on the very edges of the carnival. They bought one small cone of animal feed and waded into the fray. The little enclosure smelt of saw dust and animal droppings and the cute baby goats were desperately outnumbered by the people wanting to pet them. The bigger goats roamed around eying white paper cones clutched in sticky hands, butting their heads against hips and elbows in their attempts to get at the little food pellets.
A deer stood shoulders above the rest of the animals with soft and gentle eyes. Disinterested in handfuls of animal feed offered out to her, she shifted out of the way of each attempted touch. Blue spent an eternity in that tent, slowly inching her way closer, letting the doe get used to her scent, before holding out a mostly-clean hand, and waiting until her arm trembled with the effort. Finally, the doe allowed Blue one gentle pet. Blue's fingers astounded by the softness of her ears before she darted away.
Forest-boy reminds her of that doe when he stops just out of her reach and offers his cast out. Every line of his body seems to signal that he's ready to dart back into the trees. So it's with a solemn look on her face that she steps forward, and tugs the cap off the sharpie. Decisively, she snaps it onto the back of the sharpie and reaches out her left hand to support his wrist.
"I'm going to add some vines and leaves too," she tells him. Fact rather than statement. He's a boy, so she won't do little flowers.
First thing first though, she neatly prints her name (B L U E) across a finger's length of the bright orange cast. There's a look of intense concentration on her face, her tongue trapped between her teeth and a frown bearing down on her brow. Once the letters are finished, she begins on the winding vines.
Fingers and eyes locked on her task, Blue's mind is left free to roam. Forest-boy is more of a mystery than she thought when she first saw him. He looks old enough to go to school, but he doesn't go to her school. Blue knows because everyone knows everyone in the little elementary school. And there are no other schools in town. Blue knows for certain because when she begged Maura to send her to any other school but That One, after her first day of first grade, they spent an evening researching the nearest elementary schools and marking them on a map. Children his age are required (by the law) to go to school. Blue knows that from the same evening when their pins on the map all proved too far to travel daily and she said she'd just not go to school then and learn everything she needed from books instead. Patiently, Maura helped her look up school laws, and by the end of the evening, Blue was resigned to her fate.
So, by not going to school, he is basically a criminal. Or his parents are. Maybe he's a runaway. Maybe his whole family are runaways. On the run from the law for some-- diamond heist or something.
With a flourish, Blue finishes the last leaf and looks up at the boy.
"You have to tell me your name now," she tells him. Her eyes dart down to her name on his cast and back up again. It's only fair.