Four by Four

 

The sun came in through the gauzy curtains warm and syrupy, like summer. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, and as my brain pulled itself from the fog of sleep, I realized, it was summer. As of yesterday, I was free for the next three months. I rolled over the pulled the blankets up over my head. The entire summer stretched out before me, no sense in starting it off sleepy.

Someone screamed. At first it worked its way into my dream, but when it just kept going, I woke up. I don’t know how long I had been sleeping for, but the sunlight in my room was different. I leaped out of bed and pushed the curtains outside, but no one was out there. Still the screaming persisted.

I ran across my room and threw open the door. The screaming got louder.

“Hello?” I called out.

The screaming stopped, and suddenly she was there. My eight-year-old sister, wearing her pajamas, and holding her left arm to her side at an unnatural angle.

“Miranda, what happened?!”

Her eyes glassed over with tears.

“Okay, okay, where’s mom?”

“Work” she sobbed.

That’s what I was afraid of. Mom worked on the bay. It would be nearly impossible to get in touch with her.

I pulled Miranda close to me, as my mind raced with what I should do. Just then there was a knock at the front door. Miranda froze, her tears momentarily quelled by fear.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, “just wait here, keep quiet, I’ll go see who it is.”

I carefully padded down the stairs, making sure to avoid the one that squeaks, and slid in my socks across the hallway to the front door. I peered through the peephole, where I saw a young man waiting on the other side. I recognized him as the son from the family that moved into the house across the street a few weeks before. I exhaled with relief and opened the door.

“Is everything okay in there,” he said, “I heard screams.”

“Yes,” I said, “well, no actually, I think my sister has broken her arm, or dislocated it at least.” I hesitated, should I tell him we were alone? I could hear Miranda start to whimper again upstairs. “And our mother is at work,” I continued, “she wont be home until tonight.

“Oh, your mother works?”

Miranda started wailing again, saving me from the questions that were soon to follow.

“Oh gosh, I need to get her to a doctor, you don’t happen to have any gas we could borrow? I know its expensive, but I’m sure we could pay you back.”

“Of couse,” he said, as he turned and trotted back down our front drive, “just stay here, I’ll be back in just a sec.”

A few minutes later I heard the distinct sound of hoofs, trotting up the driveway, and in the next minute he was there, in a wooden cart pulled by two chestnut horses.

“Come-on” he patted the empty bench seats next to him on the cart.

By now I had helped Miranda to the porch, where we both stood waiting.

“But you said you had gas?”

“Not me, them,” he gestured to his horses.

I cocked one eyebrow at him.

“Hop on, let’s go. We’ll get you to the doctor,” he winked at Miranda, “and after a few minutes of sitting behind these girls,” he gestured to his horses again, “you’ll have your fill of gas.”

“Eww,” Miranda exclaimed. She seemed to have forgotten all about her pain.

I put my arm around Miranda, and helped her into the wagon. A free ride was a free ride, even if it was a bit stinky.