Letters from the Sky

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Three friends lay on the riverbank Saturday, legs tangled and heads propped on limbs and chests with breaths mingling. The weather had warmed that week, to the point the girls could wade in the river with bare legs and summer skirts, their blouses tucked up under brassieres. Jedrick had shucked his shirt and didn’t let on he could see much more of their skin than they assumed. It would be kept a secret.

Paris and Jeanne had untied their braids and buns and fanned their hair so it would dry in the sun. Their clothes were so waterlogged they would be hard to wring dry.

“Cotillion starts next Monday,” grumbled Paris, running a lazy hand through her tresses. She caught some of Jeanne’s, too, and the girl winced at the tug.

“My parents are making me do it as well,” Jedrick replied. “It’s only a few weeks; I’m sure you will survive.”

“I think Louis is going,” Paris said. There was a sort of half-sigh at the end of her sentence.

Jeanne raised an eyebrow. “I thought Monique was stepping out with him.”

“She doesn’t own the boy,” Paris sniffed. “Until he kisses someone, he’s fair game.”

“What is he, quarry?” asked Jedrick, eyes closed and forearms behind his head.

Paris smiled like a hungry cat. “Yes.”

Jedrick let out a snort and Jeanne, whose head was on his chest, felt him jump. What a strange feeling, having what was supposed to be solid ground shaking beneath her. Like the dream that had crept into her consciousness, slipping into her last night…

Tall, grey mountains with sharp crags and tawdry shawls of tattered greenery stood sentinel over a quiet, white shore. A clear night shone above it all, no moon, but a million scattered stars.

No one stood on the beach, nor hid in the peaks; everything was silent but for a faint, deep thrum, a humming like the pulse of the earth itself, beginning as a deep marrow ache. Gradually, over many hours that passed like seconds, the ache grew deeper and louder until it was grumbling through bones and sinew. The world was shaking apart, shaking, shaking, and the mountains themselves began to tremble. They shivered with some unknown, thumping energy, and then the largest simply crumbled, like cheese, softly and soundlessly crashing into the sea. There was nothing left behind but a crater in the ground; even its roots had dissolved into an ocean deep enough to hold it.

The second mountain followed shortly.

The third, then the next, and all up and down the shore the mountains crashed into the sea, b, b,ut again Jeanne stood so far, far away, and she wasn’t afraid, because those arms around her waist—

“Jeanne, for the last time, get off me! I’m getting numb!” Jedrick complained, shoving at her shoulder.

Jeanne blinked and giggled, sitting up to comb a hand through her now-dry curls. “Sorry, Jeddy,” she said with a laugh as she rose to her feet and pulled him up after her. Paris followed. “Are you ready to go back?”

“It’s getting late,” Paris pointed out. “Besides, I want to stop by Cello’s!”

Jedrick rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Aren’t normal girls supposed to be focused on their figures or something equally strange?”

“I’m not a normal girl,” Paris bragged. “I’m extraordinary.”

“You’re right about the first bit,” Jedrick muttered. “You really aren’t normal.”

Jeanne smiled and grabbed his arm. “Don’t be mean. Let’s go, shall we?”

They set off, away from the willow-shaded streamlet they called a river. There wasn’t a path, exactly, just oft-tracked soft grass and a few scattered trees bordering the edge of the school athletic fields. It was still hot in the late afternoon, but the cool would come quickly. They walked leisurely back to what could be considered society, past the school entrance and the tiny library and the junk shop, and came to Cello’s in short order. The squat building, squished between a row of apartments and a clothing store, was puffing white smoke from the thin stack on the roof. It smelled of wheat and cream.

The white, idling supply truck was still outside, the overall-clad driver leaning against the passenger door as he munched on warm bread. He nodded politely to Jeanne and the others as they passed; they smiled at him and slipped into the shop.

It was warm inside, stuffy compared to outdoors, b, ,ut they were feeling the chill of dampness so none of them cared. Cello, craggy face all white with flour and steel-wool hair sticking straight out, looked up from his kneading, his features creasing into a smile. “Hello, there, little ones. You’ve got a sixth sense when it comes to sweets, don’t you? I just put a batch of sugar rolls in the oven.”

He set out a few thick, brown mugs from under the wooden counter, filling them from a pot of coffee he always seemed to have on the stove next to his huge ovens. Passing the mugs to Jeanne and Paris, he flapped a hand. “Go sit tight at one of the tables; the rolls will be out in a few minutes. You don’t have to be home too soon, do you?”

Paris shook her head. “Not until sundown or so. Thanks, Mr. Cello.” She fluttered her lashes and gave him her best ingratiating glance.

Jedrick rolled his eyes. Jeanne smiled, pulling out a penny for the rolls and putting it on the counter. They gathered around a heavy, circular, wrought-iron lattice table in the back of the room, scooting over a few of the collapsing chairs scattered in the shop. They sipped their coffee and laughed until the batch of little golden pastries was swept out on a wooden paddle. Cello sprinkled the rolls with cinnamon sugar from a metal decanter with holes in its lid, then whistled to get the children’s attention.

Jeanne rushed over to take the pastries. “Merci, Cello! Thanks a lot.” She smiled, juggling them as they gently steamed.

“They’re hot,” he warned her.

“Too little, too late,” Paris mumbled. She reached for her food, standing up and dragging Jedrick with her. She took a bite and scrunched up her face. “Ow!”

“They’re hot,” repeated Jedrick gleefully. “Thank you, Cello.”

“Always a pleasure, kids.”

With a jumble of elbows and hips they were out the door, burnt lips and sticky fingers spilling into the end of the afternoon.