BrigitsFlame, June - Week 2
Pshhht. Pshhht.
“…Do you think we killed it?”
Pshh-stop.
The flattened, paper-thin toad’s corpse shone duly in the late afternoon sun, rays glancing off its dried-out, crackling skin. Red-black mush was glued to the black pavement around different parts of the body, three flies and a swarm of gnats flitting and darting amongst it. Both eyes were already missing. One front leg was crushed and stretched out all the way to its webbed toes, as if the toad had attempted crawling away from death in its last moments.
A stick prodded the hardened husk a few times, and then clattered to the ground.
The soft pshhht, pshhht of cards being shuffled resumed.
“Nah…the Jerkins probably did it, not us.”
An exasperated sigh. “Just because you think our neighbors are asses doesn’t mean they’re behind every dead animal or crying baby. And besides, it’s in front of our driveway!”
“Details, details.” Pshhht. Pshhht. “Who cares, anyway?”
“You’re so callous!”
A snort. Pshhht. Pshhht. “It’s a dead frog.”
“…Toad, actually. I think.”
The shuffling halted again.
“Whatever, whatever! Who cares? Now wanna see something better?”
Carol reluctantly looked away from the squished toad and focused on the six cards her elder sister, Sharon, had excitedly thrust in her face. She saw her stuffing the rest of the deck into the back pocket of her cut-off shorts, and made a face.
"What are you doing? And isn’t that my deck?”
Sharon scowled at Carol’s disinterest. “Magic, I’m doing a magic trick! Way better than dead frogs, so pay attention!”
“Dead toads.”
“Whatever!” Sharon held the cards up so Carol could see their faces. “Alright, so as you can see, I have three black cards and three red cards…”
Carol turned back to the dead toad, only half-listening to her sister. She was positive they’d run over it backing out of the drive this morning or something-she sighed mournfully.
“…black, red, black, red, aaand-with a snap of my fingers-TADAA! …Hey, you’re not looking. Look! The black and red cards separated!”
“You switched the cards.”
“Cool, isn’t-wait, what? How did you-er, no I didn’t!”
“Yeah, you did. C’mon, Sharon, that’s like one of the oldest tricks in the book. All the kids on this street know oil and vinegar.”
“…Don’t know what you’re talking about. Magic. It’s magic!”
Carol finally shifted all her attention away from the road kill. “So. What are we doing out here again?”
Sharon got quiet for a minute before giving that catty grin of hers that screams trouble. And then Carol noticed that Sharon no longer held playing cards, but a small pack of firecrackers.
“Oh god, what are you doing this time?”
Chuckling, Sharon turned away and began sauntering down the street. “Care to come help me scare the shit outta dear Mrs. Wallard, little sister?”
“Sharon! The poor woman is ninety-three! You’ll give her a heart attack!”
“The ‘poor woman’ also uses power-nozzled hoses to spray any children and cats who happen to wander too far into her yard. I don’t care if it’s summer and eighty degrees outside, that crap hurts. Plus, since she’s already ninety-three, it’s safe to say she’s fairly resilient. She’ll be fine.”
“And once again, your brilliant logic and sense of justice fails to disappoint me. God forbid we act like the responsible nineteen- and twenty-year-olds we are, and report her to the neighborhood association if we’re really concerned.”
Sharon didn’t stop walking, but called over her shoulder, “Aw, c’mon, Carls. You know you love doing stuff like this. Embrace your inner child!”
“You just want me along because you can’t do anything without your one-woman support team and clean-up crew.”
Sharon laughed. Carol smiled.
Neither had to mention when they’d managed to fill the neighborhood pool with Kool-Aid that one year, or how they plastic-wrapped everyone in their cabin to their beds at summer camp that other year. Neither had to boast about how they’d filled their high-school principal’s car with tennis balls as a senior prank, nor how they’d scarred that Vegas priest for life when they went on that road trip together for graduation.
Neither had to give a reason why they’d crashed their father’s prize truck into a fire hydrant the day he got married to his girlfriend of ten years, five of those years being an affair. Neither had to admit they were both scared and destroyed when their mother committed suicide two years after that wedding, even though Sharon started beating up things and Carol buried herself in silence. Neither had to remind how when Sharon got too out of control with people, Carol would cover for and forgive her sister, and how when Carol was overrun by and couldn’t find the strength to rebel against people when needed, Sharon would offer her strength and her guts to defend her sister.
Neither had to describe how no matter what crazy pranks and schemes Sharon came up with so they could strike back at the world and feel justified, Carol would always be there with her quick-thinking and smooth tongue to talk them out of being caught and punished. Neither had to declare they were a team.
They didn’t have to, because they already knew.
“…You caught me, Carls! Now come along!”
Sharon began skipping further down the street. Carol finally started walking.
“You’re lucky I don’t like this woman very much either.”
“Love yaaa! So let’s go work some magic!”
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