Sarah and Jimmy PART ONE

by ~CountANDRA

The five boys towered over the little girl who was innocently drawing on the dirt with a stick. Her mockingbird heart pounded in her chest as the delinquents stood before where she sat. “H… Hi.” she said nervously.
     “Hey. You’re that prick Jimmy’s sister,” one of the boy’s responded, kicking a little dirt at her. “Your older bro @#$%ed with our cars; threw a bunch of drugs in the trunk and got us questioned.”
     “Oh…! Um… uh…” Sarah, the six-year-old child, began to feel hot during such a cold climate. She could only stutter and stay where she sat because running would be futile. If only the police passed by, but no. Things in Gothshollow County were always grim, so good luck was rare in those days. She felt like throwing up. “I’m s-sorry,” she apologized for her brother, but the five boys did not accept it. They closed in on her…


          “Jeez!” Ronnie, a seven-year-old with a cigarette made a loud remark as he sat atop a ruined restaurant’s roof with seven of his friends; only one of them, the last one on the far right side, was lying back lazily, not uttering a word. He must have been dozing off. “That orphanage is getting me PO’d! They found my lighter and now I get nothing to eat!”
     A boy sitting on Ronnie’s left made a cute chuckle and patted him on the back, “Nuttin’ to be so mad about, Ron! Be happy you got a place to sleep at least. It’s good being grateful,” then he passed him a Hershey’s white chocolate bar he robbed from the nearest convenience store. “Just hang in there, and everything will come out okay.” Ronnie made a smile and adjusted his beanie before spitting out his cigarette and taking a bite out of the chocolate bar. It tasted like crap. It tasted like Gothshollow.
Crows squawked as they flew through the grimy gray-green sky. Thunder rolled and smoke spewed from the factories.  
     Another boy who was playing on his Gameboy color then made a comment to their snoozing friend who napped through the gasoline-scented air. “Yo, Jimmy. Ain’t that yo’ sister over there?”
James Ronald, their drowsy amigo, flinched out of his slumber. A scalpel fell from his bottom lip and onto his chest; he fell asleep sharpening his teeth. “Uwah?” he monotonously mumbled, trying to blink back into reality.
     “Your sister. Is that your sister down there? Cuz she’s losing a fight, dude.”
James, a fourteen-year-old with a mind full of dust, lazily looked out over the ruined section of the city they were hanging out in. Over the remains of restaurants, shops, cars, and rubble, he could faintly see a rumble going on. It looked to be a bunch of kids kicking something small and defenseless. “Uhhhh, yeah,” he said, sounding unconcerned. His way of speaking was always funny; it had a tinge of English and a dash of foreign Italian in it. He whispered to himself “What is she doing?” which sounded like “Wot eez she dooee?” and then made a yawn. “Ho boy. Reckon somebody better help her out, eh?”
     The rest of the boys mumbled to each other (except for Ronnie who was spitting out a fly that was wedged in his chocolate).
     James made a growl and sarcastically said to them all “Oh, please. Allow me. Don’t want everybody to go at once.”
He jumped off the two-story building and landed on his knees. He did not bother fixing up his school uniform for he always had his shirt un-tucked and his neck-tie hanging loosely (and he gave up on school anyways; the uniform was all he had to wear). He had time to pick up Ronnie’s cigarette and put it in his mouth before running over to the area where the bullying was taking place.
     “That’s love, right there,” Ronnie said to the others, who all agreed without hesitation.


     One of the bullies saw James coming, so then the others in the group decided to stop and glare at him. Sarah was on the ground, dirty and curled up in a ball, knees high and covering her head with her arms. James made a sigh and boringly said “Leave or die. Easy as that.”
     “You ass! What gave you the right to--”
     “Uh huh,” James’ dull response interrupted theirs.
     “Are you even--”
     “Uh huh.”
     “SHUT UP, YOU STUPID--”
     “Uh huh.”
     “DIE!!”
     “Uh huh.”
The fight did not last long. Sarah dared not open her eyes for the sounds were enough to frighten her; boys screaming, crunches, snaps, punches, cracks. Even the sound of small splatter. Next thing she knew, her brother gently yet annoyingly squatted down and brought her up to her knees. “God, you drive me crazy,” and he licked his hand and wiped the dirt from her face. The boys were gone. They ran away, leaving behind a trail of speckled red. Sarah looked into her brother’s hollowed eyes. Then she began to cry. It just happened. James sighed and said, “Yo. Little sister. You want to get an ice cream?”She just cried. “You want to go to the movies?” She kept on crying. “You want a toy? You know what? I’m going to get you a toy. Come on. Upsy-daisy.”
     He lifted her off the dirty ground and then gave her a piggy-back ride out of the ruins. A loud siren echoed throughout the city out of nowhere and there were explosions in the distance.
He just kept walking.


          “Get back here you disgusting little rats! If the bombs won’t kill you, then WE will!” a pair of police officers cursed out, running after James and Sarah, who took a little stop near a rusty toy shop; Sarah left outside while James went inside for thirty seconds or less. Next thing she knew, her brother leaped out of the store, grabbed her tiny little hand, then dragged her along with him while the store keepers yelled for the cops. Sarah has always been weak and slow, so it was a matter of time until James grabbed her and held her while he ran through the maze-like metropolis. As usual, he outran… or out-HOPPED the police. Something strange about James was how high he seemed to hop around. He could hop wall-to-wall and reach the top of a building; he could make two hops on the surface of a chained gate and make it out without a scratch. He could hop roof to roof.
It was a bit surreal.
James went around the corner of a dying alley, thick with smoke and ashes. He wasn’t even panting of exhaustion, but he boringly set his sister down, who looked at him with some shock and surprise. His sister was small, light, and her hair was a dirty blond; her eyes, huge and blue, and her smile was gentle. Such kindness she had; a princess in rags. Her brother, on the other hand, was tall and scrawny; he was always dirty and bruised and he wore his clothes informally. His hair was disheveled and jet black, overcrowded with dust and dirt. His eyes were black and a little singed and his teeth were crookedly cut. Different, they were.
     “Here,” James held the stuffed toy he stole from the store; it was a pink bunny doll. “This is for you, little sister.”
She smiled happily and giggled a little, taking the doll and hugging it close to her. It was not everyday James gave her a present.
     “But listen… the pink bunny is for YOU and YOU ONLY. IF some jackass tries to take it, take the beating then. I do not want you to lose this, you hear? The pink bunny is going to protect you, okay? No matter what, the bunny will protect you. He’ll be there.”
     “Can I call him Jimmy?” Sarah asked cutely.
     “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just keep him close, you hear? Don’t you ever cry again, because if you cry, the bunny will cry too.”
Sarah got her brother to kneel down and she kissed him on the cheek. He scoffed and lit himself another cigarette. “Come on. Mommy is waiting.”
     Saying that made Sarah want to die, suddenly. “You mean… you wanna go home NOW?”
     “I don’t want to go,” James responded. Then an air raid siren went off. “But we gotta.”
He gripped his sister’s tiny hand. He noticed there were some tears in her eyes; she was about to cry again.
     “Hey, moron,” he said. His eyes looked down on her bunny doll. “Remember what I said?”
     “Mm-hm,” Sarah murmured. “If I cry… then Jimmy will cry too. I’m sorry.” She hugged her new doll tighter beneath her right arm.
     “Jeez,” James said. “You can be such a crybaby. God.”
Then he pulled her along, avoiding eye contact. If she were only taller and able to sneak a peek at his face, she would have noticed his tears spilling over.