She was wild.
Wild and dirty and free.
Charlie could hardly imagine a life like hers; a life with no rules, no siblings and no shoes.
Charlies life was led by his mother. She made the rules and they were followed or else. That meant Charlie always had to wear his clunky shoes outside and empty his pockets every time he ventured back inside. It meant Charlie wasn't allowed to tug off his pants and run around the neighborhood; well he could and did, but then his Ma would always catch him and make him put his pants back on before he reached the end of the block. It meant always having his mothers spit on him to slick back his hair or to wipe off the dirt that was constantly smudging his face.
The girl that lived across the street however didn't have any of that. She wasn't like any of the other kids on the street, or the whole town for that matter. Her mom didn't make her wear shoes outside, even when the wind started blowing leaves off the trees. Her dad didn't make her come in after the sun went down. She didn't even have to wear clothes if she didn't want to- at least that was what Charlie guessed. If he were in her position, Charlie would have done without clothes altogether.
The wild girl didn't have any rules; she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Her hair was never slickered down with spit and her clothes never had to be clean. That's what made her so intriguing to the six year old; her freedom. That was all Charlie thought when he caught sight of the girl, wild. Charlie was only six, but he knew how to feel envious.
Everyone seemed to have their own opinions of the wild girl though. Thomas, his older brother, always said she wasn't a girl, she was an animal dressed like a human. He had told Charlie to stay away from the girl or else she would eat him like lions eat the antelope on the TV. Charlie didn't believe him; even though Thomas was older and smarter than Charlie by four years he still didn't believe him.
Charlie scowled up at the ceiling above him knowing that Thomas was up in his room playing with his ants or reading his dumb comic books. Thomas never wanted to play with Charlie and when he did, Charlie always ended up eating dirt or being a target. He didn't particularly like being the target and he didn't particularly like getting his face shoved in the mud so he tried to stay away from his older brother.
He glanced back out of the window watching the house across the street for the wild girl. He had never talked to her before, but they had been on the same team in war. The wild girl was the only girl ever allowed to play with the boys on the street because she could throw a ball further than Harry Weaver who was eight.
Wild and dirty and free.
Charlie could hardly imagine a life like hers; a life with no rules, no siblings and no shoes.
Charlies life was led by his mother. She made the rules and they were followed or else. That meant Charlie always had to wear his clunky shoes outside and empty his pockets every time he ventured back inside. It meant Charlie wasn't allowed to tug off his pants and run around the neighborhood; well he could and did, but then his Ma would always catch him and make him put his pants back on before he reached the end of the block. It meant always having his mothers spit on him to slick back his hair or to wipe off the dirt that was constantly smudging his face.
The girl that lived across the street however didn't have any of that. She wasn't like any of the other kids on the street, or the whole town for that matter. Her mom didn't make her wear shoes outside, even when the wind started blowing leaves off the trees. Her dad didn't make her come in after the sun went down. She didn't even have to wear clothes if she didn't want to- at least that was what Charlie guessed. If he were in her position, Charlie would have done without clothes altogether.
The wild girl didn't have any rules; she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Her hair was never slickered down with spit and her clothes never had to be clean. That's what made her so intriguing to the six year old; her freedom. That was all Charlie thought when he caught sight of the girl, wild. Charlie was only six, but he knew how to feel envious.
Everyone seemed to have their own opinions of the wild girl though. Thomas, his older brother, always said she wasn't a girl, she was an animal dressed like a human. He had told Charlie to stay away from the girl or else she would eat him like lions eat the antelope on the TV. Charlie didn't believe him; even though Thomas was older and smarter than Charlie by four years he still didn't believe him.
Charlie scowled up at the ceiling above him knowing that Thomas was up in his room playing with his ants or reading his dumb comic books. Thomas never wanted to play with Charlie and when he did, Charlie always ended up eating dirt or being a target. He didn't particularly like being the target and he didn't particularly like getting his face shoved in the mud so he tried to stay away from his older brother.
He glanced back out of the window watching the house across the street for the wild girl. He had never talked to her before, but they had been on the same team in war. The wild girl was the only girl ever allowed to play with the boys on the street because she could throw a ball further than Harry Weaver who was eight.
