#!ve

“We should go somewhere,” Violet said. “It’s getting dark now.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I want to show you where I like to sit. It’s just down the street.” She opened her bedroom window and took a deep breath. The stuffy heat of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze. Summer evenings are her favorite.

Skip wasn’t really in form to go outside. She felt like a moose. She didn’t feel as weird as usual, though, and Violet was already pulling a clean shirt over her head. Maybe her head could allow her to go outside, just this once. It was dark, after all, and she was going back to Junior’s tomorrow—time with Violet is the most important time.

“I guess it’ll be okay.”

◦ ◦ ◦

“Can you jump fences?”

Violet was visibly excited. Skip couldn't remember the last time she had seen Violet like this.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“There’s this shortcut here”—she pointed at a wooden fence past Junior’s parents’ house—“and you have to jump the fence past that backyard. I can help you if you need me to, though.”

Skip took a moment to think. “I should be fine.”

◦ ◦ ◦

 “Violet.”

“Hmm?”

“This grass is so tall and awful.” Skip shivered as the weeds tickled her legs.

“I’m sorry. It’s itchy, but I like it a lot anyhow.”

◦ ◦ ◦

Once the field cleared and Skip could feel her legs again, she let out a huge sigh. “That’s better.”

Violet Evangeline Easton

“I’m going to the creek,” she said, pulling one of Elijah’s sweatshirts over her head. 

“Put on shoes,” Elijah said. He gently pulled Violet’s hair out of the neck of the sweatshirt and smoothed it over with a gentle touch.

“No.”

“Socks, at least.”

“No. They make me feel bad.” 

“Alright. Don’t get in the water. It’s too cold for that now.”

Violet nodded. Mother could have said the exact same thing and it would have passed straight through her head without any thought at all, but Elijah—Violet always listened to him.

She left quietly, as to not alert and worry Mother. She walked by Junior’s house—his parents’ house—and his mother gave her a friendly wave from the front porch. “Tell my son I said hello. He won’t have a thing to do with me these days.”

“Me either,” said Violet.

“It’s that girl.”

Violet was silent.

“Have a nice evening, sweetheart. Be careful.”

Violet was silent still and Junior’s mother continued tending to her flowers.

“I’ll tell Junior,” Violet said finally. She decided to cross by that house, hopping the fence in the backyard and stumbling as she landed in the thick, cool grass. The creek wasn’t too far away and this shortcut was actually more trouble than it was worth, but Violet enjoyed.

This town was very natural—that’s what everyone always said about it. It boasted large stretches of untouched wilderness and Violet loved the best and the worst of it. Sticker weeds, grass that reached her knees, and precariously situated rocks that she loved to hop about and nap on if the weather permitted.

She admitted to herself that she should have worn shoes when she stopped on a jagged stone that dug into the side of foot and drew a bit of blood. Elijah was always worried and he was always right.

When she got to the creek, she realized that she was not alone. A boy was sitting quietly under her favorite tree—her favorite tree to climb in, however, not sit under, so he didn’t bother her at all.

In fact, the boy was a friend.

Violet called out his name and gave him a fright. “Hey, Violet,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure as quickly as possible.

Violet played along. “Hi, Dominic.”

“It’s a little chilly and… you’re not wearing shoes. And you’re bleeding!”

“Oh.” Violet glanced at her foot. “It’s fine.”

“You should disinfect it or you—oh. This must be how Elijah talks to you all the time, huh?”

“Not all the time. But still. A lot.”

Dominic smiled—perhaps. Violet couldn’t quite tell; His face was shaded by the loose, overhanging branches above him. A single leaf fell in his lap and he absent mindedly folded it in half. “Do you want to sit down?”

She did.

“How’s school going for you so far?”

She shrugged.

“You haven’t been going.”

“You already knew that.”

“Yeah, but I wanted you to say it. For once, I would like to hear something from you. Why aren’t you going to school? You’ll get kicked off the team at this rate. If something wrong? Is someone giving you trouble?”

Violet pulled a hitchhiker off of Dominic’s jacket and pressed it between her fingers. “No,” she replied after some hesitation.

“Then what’s the deal?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.  I don’t care. It’s just hard to get out of bed some days.”

“You ever tell Elijah that?”

“No.”

“Because he doesn’t ask you too many questions, does he?”

“After a certain point he starts accepting just yes or no.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

Violet shook her head. She reached out and gently placed her hand against Dominic’s cheek. “Dominic.”

“What?”

“You’re driving me crazy.”

Dominic look perplexed for just a second, but then he smiled and took Violet’s small hand in his own. “Yeah. Sorry. I just want you to do well. I don’t mean in school or on the field. I just mean… in general. You know? So does Elijah. Your parents. Even… Junior.”

“He hates me,” Violet sighed. She closed her eyes and shrugged, slowly pulling her hand away from Dominic’s.

“No he doesn’t. You should spend some alone time with that guy, let him talk on and on about whatever for a little while. There is absolutely no one on this planet that he hates as much as himself. I wouldn’t worry about him. Or anyone else.”

But—he is so, so tired. Someone has been holding him down and his body aches. But there is Violet, with her slightly downturned lips. She is wearing her baseball helmet. Wake up, Elijah, wake up.

“Wake up,” Violet says. She is very quiet.

Elijah.

Wake up.

“Elijah!”

He can feel himself taking control. His hands, his eyes, his voice. They belong to him again. He can make a fist, clutching onto Violet’s coat, and he can blink, blink, blink, nervously, clearing his blurred vision. He can speak—“Where… and, uh, wh-what?” is all he can manage, but it’s something.

“Are you okay?” Violet asks. “I punched you in the face.”

“What? Why?” He tries to move but is seized by the soreness in his stomach. He lets himself crumble, and realizes that his head is in Violet’s lap.

“And I hit you with my bat! Right in the stomach.”

“Violet, why did you do that?!”

“You were trying to hurt me!”

As if Elijah could let him believe that for one second. He chuckles and his body tenses up. “You really got me good, Violet,” he mumbles, turning over on his side and facing away from her. “What was I doing?”