The following story is true. A six-year-old, Laurie, (not her real name) and an almost ten-year-old, Jenna, (also a fake name) are sisters. The older one lords it over the younger, but Laurie is, well—Laurie.
~ * ~
“It’s true, Jenna. Seriously.” Laurie tucks soft butter-blonde hair behind an ear and twirls hands in the air as she relates her story.
The girls are in the front hall at home. Grandma has just brought them home after school. Big sister sets her jaw and shakes her head. “Are you making this up?”
“No. I am not. Michael told me he’s not coming to our school soon. He’s moving far away.” She bounces back and forth in her stocking feet.
“So where are they moving to?”
Laurie stretches taller and grins as wide as she can. “He’s moving to Toronto.”
“How do you know all this?” Jenna plays with a strand of whiskey-blonde hair, tastes it and studies the wet ends.
“Aren’t you listening, Michael told me. His father gots a new job.”
“When are they moving?”
Laurie waves the air. “I don’t know.”
Jenna sighs. “So, is Michael still your boyfriend?”
“Well…I still love him; he said he doesn’t love me—but he likes my voice.” Blue eyes glow and seek direct contact with her sister’s.
“He told you that?”
“Seriously!” Laurie ups her tone. “I’m not lying.” Both wrists twist at her sides, back and forth in half circles, fingers squirming about. Schoolbags lay dropped on the ceramic floor.
Laurie frowns and tilts her head. “His bother Lucas is in your class, right? Do you love him or something?”
“N-O. Of course not…remember my friend Giada in my class? Her family is going to the Bahamas for ten days. She has to bring homework to do in the hotel room while the rest of them go swimming. That sucks.”
“That’s so not fair. Seriously. ” Fingers churn the air again. “Is she gonna do it?”
Jenna lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “Come on. We better unpack our lunch bags before Daddy gets home.”
~ * ~
Meanwhile, Grandma eavesdrops around the corner in the kitchen. Her face is blood red and distorted from lack of oxygen. Pffh. She lets out a lungful of air and grabs the counter. A hand is clamped over her mouth to stifle her laughter.