She Disappears
I don’t care where you go—schoolyard children are all the same. When they realize their power, you best look out. That’s the story here of Juliette and a little tussle, a tête-à-tête.
That American diplomat’s son thought it hilarious that this girl carried scars from a blade, from an almost unbelievable tale. “Your cousin tried to kill you? That’s why you missed half a year of school,” he laughed to begin this year where it’s summer every day, on this archipelago far off—you call it Indonesia.
Those diplomatic babies of privilege and disgrace—they forget the slums, the disease, and the death...
...but not this girl.
Juliette would never fit their perfect pictures, but that grin’s enough to unleash an ocean they’d never respect underneath.
He compared her to the Venus one day—as if she’s insulted, but that was the day to make a point, the day to remind this boy he’ll never weather her storm.
There was no planning involved. There was no master list. There was not even the thought of a weapon or a speech. This was retribution for honor’s sake.
She had to walk away early that day filtering onto those sidewalks, taking a turn nobody noticed, knowing this boy’s route for he’s all too arrogant to see what’s right in front of him.
Those bucolic suburbs made just for the rich and elite tell you stories beyond anything imaginable, and they make shortcuts for kids walking about as if it’s those many islands they own.
Cutting ‘round a corner was that boy the same as he’d done these three years taunting our heroine, and from yet another turn he’s punched in the throat.
There she is...
Turning in that school uniform to walk away she reminds, “I won’t ask you nicely again.”
...imagine watching her disappear.
