Imagine a house, in a garden.
The paint is flaking and the chimney is cracked and the uncut grass is wild. But ignore all that. Look here instead, at the giant wisteria with a trunk as thick as your arm, its purple flowers dripping against the old stone wall. Look at the swing hanging from that ancient oak, those cherry trees planted in a circle around the house. One of the trees is so close to a window that in summer, when it fruits, the girl who lives here can reach out to pick the cherries.
Imagine that – picking cherries from your bedroom window.
I used Random.org today and it selected page 251!
I press the tip of the blade against the soft skin of my finger.
“I, Savannah Mae Dare, solemnly swear…”
“Is that a knife?” my older sister, Frankie, interrupts me for the third time. I sigh. The first was to ask why we had to go to Springer’s Point Preserve, the big nature park near our house. The second was why we had to go where it was hundred degrees to sit under a giant live oak with fire ants in the sand. I reminded her we live in North Carolina. On an island. It’s all giant oak and fire ants and sand, not air-conditioning and iced drinks and fluffy pillows.