Friday Fictioneers….on Saturday?
“C’mon Tasha,” Jen urged. “Don’t be wussy.”
Tasha shoved her hair out of her eyes, staring at grass strands between the rocks. Jen wasn’t ever afraid. Tasha was always afraid. Of disappointing her parents, her teachers, her friends. Of her grades, of college. Done with waiting, Jen strode forward on the gravel and jumped on a car.
“C’mon, freedom on the tracks,”Jen laughed. “Just like hobos-only we’ll be home by five! It stops at Charlton.”
“On the bus,” Jen held up tokens.
“Freedom,” Tasha whispered.
Grasping her bag with both hands, Tasha started running as the whistle began blowing.