A Million, Billion Years Ago

She fell in love with her a million, billion years ago – the way girls can do, the way that friends can do with nothing but Rainbow Brite and pink t-shirts to take up all their days.

Sand was in her eyes and all over her hands and in her shoes, but it never mattered much – that's a good time when you are six. It was a good time just being in the sunshine and building castles and eating Oreos and telling secrets – it was a good time… the day that Needy Lesnicky met Jennifer Check.

And she fell in love with her hands, pale and clean and bleeding, fingers so slender that Needy felt like a firefighter or a nurse, someone who saves others – and she wanted to save Jennifer Check from cuts.

And from boredom. And from boys who liked to spit and chug their milk.

And from other girls, those bitter and twisted girls who would knock you down just to make a point.

Lockers slam and everyone is watching Jennifer, but Jennifer is watching Needy – possessively, obsessively, randomly, recklessly – and they have never moved past the sandbox and the playground rules. They still dwell in practiced roles, pretty girl and not-so-much, moving down the hallway.

Jennifer isn't bitter, but she is still twisted… long before a demon inhabits her skin and makes her giddy beyond the thrill of knockoff emo bands.

And boys still spit and stutter, with beers instead of white-stained lips, still dreaming with their dicks.

And those other girls still knock every other girl around, but they don't dare touch Jennifer Check.

And boredom is still boredom, cheap bars and football and Sunday dinners.

And Needy is still in love, but it waxes and it wanes, a moon of her own making.

Chip gets it, somewhere deep inside, and calls it kidnapping – but it can't be that if your victim goes willingly… can it?

Needy fell in love with Jennifer a million, billion years ago – the way girls can do, the way that friends can do with nothing horrible lurking in the background… telling them it is such a big fucking mistake.

Long after the fact, in a box made of stone, she'll blame the sand.

It got in her eyes and she only saw what she wanted to see.

*

END