It was later that afternoon, after the forest had gone quiet and the summer shimmer had faded from her skin, but not her thoughts.
A busy suburban home; a two-story colonial on a leafy green street with a few leaves starting to hint at the
approaching change of season. A slightly battered white picket fence in need of a little paint surrounded by a large, well-used yard. Bikes and toys littered the ground.
Three boys, Ian, Jack, and Jamie laughed as they charged around the side of the house hefting a large semi-inflated raft that drifted from side to side, poking and snagging every bush it passed.
"To the tree!" yelled Ian.
"I got the rope," Jack bellowed, dragging it behind him.
"Do we finish blowing it up now or when we get up there?" asked Jamie, the youngest of the three, lagging behind a little, eyes wide with anticipation.
"If we’re making an inflatable tree house, we should probably blow it up there, maybe?" Ian advised, his finger pointing upward. “You think?”
The boys scrambled up the branches pushing and pulling the raft. Elliot peered around the side of the house, curiosity tugging at her like a leash. She had big blue eyes, long uncombed hair, jeans worn at the knees, and a baggy sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder. She puffed out her chest and put on her best 'tough guy' walk and went out into the yard after them.
They were halfway up the tree by the time she reached its base. She looked up at the tangle of arms and legs and watched them yank the raft up and onto the next higher branch.
"Can I help?" she asked.
"What for, we don't need help," Jamie responded.
"That raft could pop. The branches are kind of sharp! I can push from behind," she replied.
"Not now, Ellie. Go away," commanded Jack.