Scroll down for a peek into The Barefoot Legend...
“The inherent risks in this assignment…”
A block up the street, a metallic crash broke the quiet of the night as two sneakers landed on a rusty dumpster. The owner of the shoes, a young girl known to her friends only as Pixie, crouched low in the shadows, her wide, pale eyes straining in the dark. After a breathless few seconds, the violent pounding in her ribs started to ease. A burning sensation persisted in her lungs as she sucked in the cool air. Every breath was like a thousand needles to her chest, but she could not afford to pause long; she had to keep moving—he would see her.
First, she glanced up, squinting in the glow of a green and orange 24-hour neon sign. Ten feet above loomed a convenience store roof from which she had jumped moments ago. Listening intently for her pursuer, she peered over the edge of the brown trash receptacle. The concrete pavement was merely six feet beneath, but it looked like twenty, she was afraid. Her eyes darted back and forth. Where could she go?
Mustering her courage, the young girl rubbed her hands together, trying to feel her fingers. Already a numbing chill had crept through them, and she dreaded gripping the cold metal, but there was no choice. Palms spread wide, Pixie braced herself and swung around in a swift, albeit awkward, motion.
Her feet hit concrete, and then she was off and running again.
A brief glance over her shoulder suggested perhaps she had lost him. Still she ran for her life. The heaving of her breath and the pounding of her tattered shoes filled her ears, and she did not dare slow her pace. The hood of her gray sweatshirt flew behind her, yanking at her neck, threatening to choke her, but she barely noticed. Choking was a sensation with which she was familiar; exposure on the other hand was not.
Dashing past darkened storefront windows and shining lamp posts, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining, as she ran, that she was steadily growing invisible. Step by crashing step, she saw herself gradually melting into the shadows. Sprinting as fast as her short legs were capable, she willed herself to somehow blend in with the scenery, the small trees lining the sidewalk, the brick, asphalt and stone. She willed herself to disappear completely.
Like a ghost…
A breeze whipped through the street, lifting dry leaves, discarded newspaper, and sandwich wrappers from the gutter. They skirted across the sidewalk, and Pixie darted around a corner and across a narrow intersection. A scraggly cat arched its back taut and hissed as her sneakers skidded by.
In her mind, images blurred together in dark color and hazy shape, and she believed—wished—herself to be just another piece of this urban puzzle, too small to be seen. What was she after all? She was nothing. She was a speck, a triviality, a phantasm of his imagination. Certainly, he would have given up by now.
Nevertheless, she did not know this for certain, and fear alone spurred her forward. Now, as she ran, a new pleading emerged, a pleading for this city to hide her, to cradle her in its bosom, to envelope her in its shadows. She envisioned, in this dark hour, that perhaps this city might show her a hospitality it lacked in the bright daylight. She entertained the idea, just for a second, that perhaps all the distinctions that kept her estranged from the city’s more presentable children were somehow camouflaged in the moonlight.
If this were true (at this point, she carried the dream to a dangerous conclusion) perhaps the case could be made that she actually belonged here, as much as they did—the only difference being that she needed this city more than they. This city was, after all, the only mother she had ever known and for her to remain a child, as she needed to, the city would have to find a way to hold her. Indeed, she could feel it shifting, squirming, contorting itself to accommodate her, as it would a pricking briar in its flesh.
Seamlessly, the rough pavement beneath Pixie’s feet changed into patchy grass and soft dirt. Billboards and lampposts vanished, as did the light illuminating her path. Thick pecan trees now shrouded even the stars overhead, and a densely forested park blanketed the girl in welcomed darkness.
Her calves burned with exertion, and her breath caught in her throat. She flung her hands up as dry crooked twigs scratched her face. She yearned to collapse on the damp leaves, but she could not stop yet. Instinct guided her, and she knew she was close. A hundred nights among these ivy-twisted trees had impressed upon her subconscious every clearing and spot of level ground. She expertly leapt to the right, dodging a knobby tree trunk, and was impressed by her own prowess.
Then, a stinging icy chill caught her by surprise, gripping both feet and shocking her into submission. She flailed and grasped a tree branch for balance. Water seeped up her socks.
Unseasonably high rainfall had left behind a swollen creek she was not expecting. The rainwater rapidly soaked her feet. For the first time that night, for the first time in weeks, hot tears sprang to Pixie’s eyes, and she cursed. Biting her lip, she reached up higher on the tree branch to secure a better grip. Rough bark scraped at her flesh. Mud splattered beneath her shoes as she inched upward, setting one foot on the grass, then the other.
She was not running anymore, she was hobbling; each step in her soggy tennies irritated her cold ankles. Twisting, she pulled both arms inside her sweatshirt and hugged herself tightly against the warm skin of her abdomen. Empty sleeves dangled at her sides, and she lurched miserably the last fifty yards through the trees.
Finally, deep in the belly of the park, she spotted six familiar forms huddled in the shadows. They had left her fleece blanket—beloved blanket!—wadded up in the leaves. Indeed, they had been expecting her. All she wanted to do was bury herself in soft plaid warmth, but her joy was quickly replaced with reticence when she thought of Cougar, and what she had to tell him.
The damp fabric of her skirt clung to her legs, and her canvas sneakers dripped with muddy water. Once more back blinking tears—this is no time for waterworks, crybaby!—she kicked off her shoes, and stared at the soaked tennies. It was almost too much to bear.
“Hey Pix.”
At the whispered sound of her name, she jumped.
Her friend Beast, wrapped tightly in a filthy feather down sleeping bag, propped himself up on one elbow. Moonlight silhouetted his black braids, which jutted out in every direction from his head. “You okay?”
Pixie sniffed again, chest pounding, still breathless, and far from ready to explain what had happened. “I’m fine,” she whispered back fiercely. “Go to sleep.”
“Why did you come back?”
Pixie glanced over at five more lumpy bedrolls. “Shhh, you’re gonna wake them up.”
“Well, then get over here!”
Pixie groaned, and wriggled her arms back into her sleeves. She gathered her fleece around her and rose in a leaden motion that took all her remaining strength. Gingerly… she had always liked that word, but now realized it was only relevant in extraordinarily painful circumstances. She tiptoed around two sleeping bodies, all the while wishing there was a way to walk without putting any pressure at all on the soles of her feet. Finally, she collapsed in the soft dry leaves, with a thud, next to Beast.
“You sure you’re okay?” he said, squinting at her in the dim light that flickered through the foliage overhead. Unmistakable concern seeped into his voice.
“Yeah,” Pixie said, breathing easier now.
“Why didn’t you stay?”
“Don’t rub it in, you jerk. I got lonely.”
“But the squat… it’s good, right? It will work?”
Pixie pulled the blanket tighter around her thin body.
“Well? Will it?”
Finally, she surrendered. “No, I was wrong, you were right; can we go to sleep now?” Even thought she couldn’t see him perfectly in the shadows, Pixie was certain that Beast was grinning widely.
His voice confirmed that he was. “Night guard, I knew it!”
“Yeah, you called it. Except, he checks every hour. You were wrong about that.”
“Did he see you?”
“On the roof.”
“I can’t believe he checks the roof.”
“Yeah,” she said, grimly.
“I told you, but you didn’t listen.”
“I know you told me.” She spoke bitterly. “Cougar told me… everyone told me.”
“You should’ve listened.”
“But it was such a good squat.”
“I know,” Beast sighed.
Pixie peered at him in the darkness. “They’re really cracking down.”
“It would appear.”
“And where’d these temperatures come from? It’s freezing out here!”
“Early cold front. Maybe it was predicted, I don’t know. I haven’t checked the forecast.”
“I’m gonna start looking before I try something like this again.”
Beast chuckled. “Now you’re sounding like a pro.”
Pixie was unwilling to relinquish her dream so easily. “You should see this squat… it’s perfect.”
“Evidently not.”
“Almost perfect, the climb’s a cinch, and that vent blows warm air across the whole roof. It felt like the middle of July.”
“What’d the guard do?”
Pixie tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a series of short sniffs. “I thought if I was real quiet he’d go away, but he actually climbed up the fire escape.”
“How far did he chase you?”
“That fat whale! You’d think he wouldn’t be able to run half a block, from looking at him! He’s at least 400 pounds!”
“You didn’t lead him here, did you? You sure he didn’t tail you?”
“I climbed the convenience store and hid on the roof. I don’t know when he gave up, but it was quiet for a while, and I was scared so I jumped down and ran the rest of the way here.”
“Your shoes are all soaked.”
Pixie glanced at the muddy tennis shoes half buried in the leaves and swallowed. “I didn’t see the creek.”
“It’s risen quite a bit since last week.”
Pixie nodded but did not say anything; she wiped tears from her cheeks.
“Hey,” said Beast. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
The girl nodded, sobbing freely now despite her embarrassment.
“They’ll dry,” Beast reassured her.
“Not in this cold.”
Beast inched closer to her. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you some more.”
Pixie glanced around at the other two boys asleep in the dirt. “Wh- where’s Cougar?”
Beast looked up at her and smiled. “What… you thought he’d just wait around here for you to come back?”
Her face registered surprised. “He followed me?”
“We had a wager.”
“I can’t believe you two!” Pixie’s tears dried up and her chin jutted out. “You better have backed me up.”
“Yeah, well, I said you’d last three hours, he said two. When you didn’t come back after one, he went looking for you. What did you expect?”
Pixie looked down at her hands. “I thought he was mad at me.”
“Well you were being stubborn.”
“I know.”
“And he was right.”
“Enough about it, already.” Pixie sat up. She thought she heard something rustle deep in the forest and peered out into the darkness. “I hope that guard doesn’t see him and follow him here.”
“You kidding?” Beast rolled over onto his back and stretched out in his sleeping bag. He had torn out the bottom seams to make room for his massive combat boots to stick out the end. “Cougar could slip a man’s donut right from his fingers and he wouldn’t know it was gone till he went to take a bite.”
Pixie let out a soft giggle and Beast relaxed at the sound.
She wiggled her fleece-wrapped body so close to his that he could feel her damp breath on the side of his cheek. “Beast?”
The boy’s eyes were closed. “Yeah?”
Pixie rested a cheek on her arm. “Do you ever think of what Cougar could have done if he wasn’t out here?”
“I try not to.”
“He probably could’ve been a detective for the FBI, or an international spy.”
Beast agreed. “Stealing military secrets and selling them for money to buy a tropical island and retire in luxury.”
Pixie yawned widely. “That sounds good… I want to do that.”
“Be a secret agent?”
“No, retire in luxury.”
Beast chuckled. “You better pick a different vocation, sweetheart. I don’t think anyone ever retires from this.” He pulled his covers up around his chin and, for several minutes, the girl did not say anything. Her eyes were shut, but her breathing still came in short, rapid spurts. He guessed that she was probably still awake. “Hey Pixie,” he whispered.
“What?”
“I’m glad you came back.”
Pixie rolled over again, and pulled the top of her blanket over her face so that her foggy breath immediately reflected back to her cheeks. It was a surefire way to trap the maximum amount of warmth. Her feet remained hopelessly chilled but that did not matter. After a few minutes passed, the sound of crickets and gentle breeze faded, and Pixie drifted off into dreamless slumber.
