Two faces emerge from behind her lids, swallowed in blackness. Margo waits amidst the dark void, preparing for the minute possibility the boy’s silhouette would define its eyes, and that they might momentarily lock with hers. The longing seems to last for hours aching her to her core. But when the time arrives, the other set of eyes open instead exposing an emerald so vivid they light up her whole face. Her creamy skin shines more radiantly than Margo remembers. Blonde strands ruffle around her heart-shaped face, softening her already smooth lines. She smiles as if thankful Margo has finally let her into her dreams. The brightness flowing from the being illuminates the entire vision, the golden light taking the form of the dream’s backdrop.
The boy for once fades away.
“Margo,” she calls out from across the Hederman’s golden fields of wheat. She giggles and runs in what she considers her ‘stealth mode,’ though she is hardly as sneaky as she thinks.
“Kylie, what did you do?” Margo fusses but couldn’t help laughing back at the sight. Her sister has hold of the rim of her tee shirt with a bulging weight sagging its middle downward and bouncing off her abdomen with every stride.
“Hedermans are out,” she pants. “Thought I’d show Helen. Live up to the name of ‘brat.’” Mrs. Hederman isn’t exactly fond of the two of them roaming the farm, Kylie in particular. She’s been known to throw a few parties past the eastern side of the farm where the woods meet with the creek. Though she’s never been caught red-handed, the aftermath is enough for Helen Hederman’s assessment to point toward the two Grisby girls. She was only half right.
Kylie catches up to her sister, and Margo joins her flight back toward the house, catching sight of the green rounds her blouse holds. “Apples? The Hedermans already suspect you for last week’s party. You know they’ll catch on.” She glances over her shoulder at their landlord’s grand white house with its green-tiled roof. It sits at the opposite end of the pond as the little replication they rent. Their driveway is empty of the blue pickup.
“Don’t you see?” she asks, almost surprised at Margo’s remark. “That’s the point! Let her know it’s me, but only on the inside. She’ll never catch me. It’ll drive her insane!”
Margo pops the latch on the picket fence that runs the perimeter of their house letting Kylie slip in first. The steps moan as they make their way up the porch and into the living room. Her sister drops the pile of fruits onto the kitchen counter sending them spinning in wild circles. Their mother looks up from her book sliding her reading glasses down to the brim of her nose.
“Where did you —” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to know.”
Kylie’s glorious smile spreads across her face, hardly masking the mischief inside.