Ready or not, here I come.


I brush my fingertips through the grass, passing over an ant. I carefully go over him, and then continue to comb through the green. My eyes take in the way the light falls, the way the green looks against the ground… 

I lift my fingers from the ground, take a pencil from my stretched-out backpack, and sketch out the scene with the shade of the old oak I lean against, the little ant scuttling across the dirt, the pinecone sitting curled between the blades of grass. I skribble each little line, until I hear footsteps near me. I go still.

“Cass needs to work on her hiding, it’s way too hard to find her…” says Jess’s voice from on the opposite side of the tree. I pull in a breath and don’t breath out.

“Breath, Cass…” I say under my breath, barely audible to myself.

“Y’know, I’m going inside. Let her stay hidden the whole day, honestly…” she groans, and I hear the sliding door close to inside. I exhale finally, and keep sketching.

Scritch scritch scritch.

One hour passes. I move, because my leg is going numb. I rub the spots under my eyes, and sap gets underneath them. I sigh. Playing hide and seek with your sister is hard, because eventually, ten minutes after she’s said ‘Ready or not, here I come!” she grows bored, and eventually just goes inside.

Scratch scratch scratch.

Two hours. I yawn. The sun is going down. I check my old, battered watch. A hand-me-down from my mom. It’s 4:00.

Scribble scribble scribble.

Three hours. I stand up, brush off the dirt, and whisper under my breath; “Ready or not, here I come.”
 

EverlastingWaves

VT

15 years old

More by EverlastingWaves

  • Thoughts after the fair

    I’ve never enjoyed the feeling of being sick to your stomach on a fair ride. Maybe I just don’t have the iron-willed intestines that all of my friends seem to have, because I get sick from going on the teacups at a normal speed.

  • october, my love

    october,
    my love,
    it is good to see you once again.

    although it appears i have missed
    your grand entrance,
    while i left the room.

    i walked along the street to visit you,
    and looked up,
  • scratches

    skin pulled taut and tight
    burning like the light
    that seeps through cracks
    underneath the door

    from stray branches and walking
    throughout the woods, balking
    at the idea
    of no path

    water rests on skin