Maybe
By Barbara-Anne Harrison
Kayla saw Jamie playing in the next door yard from her upstairs bedroom window.
She quickly crept down the stairs, and silently made her way to the secret hole in the hedge separating the gardens. She called him softly, and when he came his face was flushed and shiny from all the tears. There was a sliver of silvery snot making its way from his nose to his upper lip.
“Come over,” he said. “The bitch is on the phone. She won’t notice.”
She pushed through the foliage where the dead, ginger cat now lived, emerging on the other side.
“She wacked me and I’ve been grounded for the week. Plus,” he looked especially aggravated when he added this: “No media for two days!”
They were playing very quietly, trying to hide behind some trees, but Jamie’s mom saw. She was staring out the kitchen window when she spotted them.
“Jamie!” she called, not greeting his unwanted playdate. “Tell Katy, or Cathy, or whatever her name is to go home. You’re grounded.”
She paused for a second, then added. “Ask her if she’s seen Red. He’s been missing for days.
Kayla got up and turned to leave. With her back to Jamie’s mom she whispered. “Don’t worry, one day we’ll kill the old bitch,” she snarled in her strange six-year-old voice.
… And maybe they would.
An End
