Jersey Girl Scout
Romance
Perhaps someone should have cautioned Francesca before dressing in her Girl Scout uniform for her first day at a new school. She imagined how all of her would overlook her bulbous shape and fawn over her colorful sash of badges. She practiced answering questions about her life as a Girl Scout, as if she were surrounded by reporters who only wanted to know what kind of person she was on the inside and not about what she was feeding her insides with that made her outsides so damn enormous.
Her arm was raised at a perfect forty-five degree salute, "I pledge allegiance to..." she halted her recitation to reprimand a freckle-faced boy who was also saluting the flag, "Put your hand down. You’re not in uniform," but the spotted boy did not flinch. Another boy with spiky hair chuckled and much to Francesca’s annoyance, also joined in the salute.
"Hey, that’s against the law. You can’t salute."
The pledge had ended and the freckle-faced boy named Jared, performed an about-face and high-fived the spiky-haired one called Smith.
The reality of Francesca’s first day had contrasted with her original vision, but it wasn’t unusual for her or anyone to dwell in dreams of when presented with the challenge of a new start. The Russo’s had left Brooklyn for the quiet suburbs of West Orange, New Jersey, where Mr. Russo’s construction company had moved.
All summer long she dreamed of meeting the kids in her neighborhood, but her mom didn’t let her go out past their freshly paved cement sidewalk. New Jersey was an anomaly to Mrs. Russo. She studied with a terrible curiosity, the engulfing woodlands that began in their yard, as they would transform before the sunset into a dark shadow of wild sound.
"Don’t ever go out that way," pointing to the forest, "Ya hear me, Francesca? Who knows what the hell’s living in that place?"
As the summer months passed and the Russo’s got more comfortable with the neighborhood; which was becoming less intimidating to Mrs. Russo as her husband’s construction company was clearing away many of the neighborhood’s ominous trees; Francesca’s confidence soared.
As the first day of school ended, Francesca exited the building and noticed the two boys from walking with a girl with blond braids named Kristen. Francesca had admired Kristen for her brilliant work in their history with Mrs. Cunningham. On a daily basis, she had answered nearly every one of the Mrs. Cunningham’s questions correctly. She was the type of girl that Francesca knew would make a good friend. Francesca picked up her pace to catch up. She walked past them without a word while studying the needle of a compass.
"Where you going, Fatcesca?" hooted Jared.
Smith chimed in, "Are looking you for the long lost buried treasure of donuts."
"Shut up, you guys," said Kristen.
"I’m just following my compass coordinates, which will lead me home in the shortest possible route."
"That’s pretty neat. I guess you learned that in the Girl Scouts," said Kristen.
"Yeah. I earned a charms merit badge in compass reading and hiking."
Smith laughed, "Where did you hike to? Hamburger town?"
"How come you wear a Girl Scout uniform to school? Don’t you have any other clothes?" asked Jared.
"Just to show Scout spirit, I guess."
"You live at the edge of Blue Point Forest, don’t you?" asked Kristen.
"Yeah, my mom’s afraid of those woods."
"But you’re not afraid, right? I mean you have all that hiking experience," needled Smith.
"Nah, I could get around there easy."
"Here’s a challenge for you," said Jared, "I heard that at the end of the purple dot trail there’s a field of blueberry bushes. If you go in there and bring back blueberries, we’ll tell everybody in school and you’ll be the most popular girl in town."
"And you’ll be our new best friend," added Smith.
"I don’t know about this, guys," said Kristen.
"Deal," said Francesca.
She had once hiked through the paved trails of Prospect Park, but Blue Point Forest had provided her with a few surprises. The first being the extreme darkness of the woods underneath the heavy canopy of green leaves. The second unexpected occurrence was the transformation of the purple dot trail; although not noted on any map; suddenly changing into a yellow dotted one. Francesca was not concerned. She gobbled up her trail mix and marched forward.
The trail narrowed and filled with thorn bushes. Francesca tried to pull up her socks to protect her legs, but was scraped mercilessly. The faint light of the forest began to dim. Her mother must’ve been worried, but the possibility of new friends drove her deeper into the forest. She could almost hear the voices of all her cheering her name. It made her stronger and she pushed on.
A hum of rushing water echoed nearby. She climbed a knoll and admired a creek of pristine waters when something began sprinting through the brush. Her eyes met the backside of a cottontail deer hopping through shrubbery. She sighed and took a swig from her canteen when she heard a thunderous boom. Her hammering heart stopped to listen and was terrified to hear the sound of strange voices. Francesca wasn’t the only person in the forest.
She couldn’t determine which direction the sounds were coming from. She darted, but her hair became tangled in a mess of drooping branches. Another horrific forest explosion sounded. She panicked, tearing her hair loose and running blindly. She heard the voices again and imagined savages of the forest performing some type of hideous ritual. Francesca couldn’t tell if she was going toward the sounds or away from them.
After a minute of scrambling through darkness, Francesca’s chubby legs surrendered. Her plump body lay in a lush carpet of grass. The strange voices were upon her and a bloodcurdling machine grinded what could only be the remaining life of some poor sacrificial lamb. She muttered her mother’s warning, "Don’t ever go out that way. Who knows what lives in that place?"
Her eyelids popped open. She gazed into a white light hovering over a yellow crane with black painted letters reading, Russo Construction.
Her arm was raised at a perfect forty-five degree salute, "I pledge allegiance to..." she halted her recitation to reprimand a freckle-faced boy who was also saluting the flag, "Put your hand down. You’re not in uniform," but the spotted boy did not flinch. Another boy with spiky hair chuckled and much to Francesca’s annoyance, also joined in the salute.
"Hey, that’s against the law. You can’t salute."
The pledge had ended and the freckle-faced boy named Jared, performed an about-face and high-fived the spiky-haired one called Smith.
The reality of Francesca’s first day had contrasted with her original vision, but it wasn’t unusual for her or anyone to dwell in dreams of when presented with the challenge of a new start. The Russo’s had left Brooklyn for the quiet suburbs of West Orange, New Jersey, where Mr. Russo’s construction company had moved.
All summer long she dreamed of meeting the kids in her neighborhood, but her mom didn’t let her go out past their freshly paved cement sidewalk. New Jersey was an anomaly to Mrs. Russo. She studied with a terrible curiosity, the engulfing woodlands that began in their yard, as they would transform before the sunset into a dark shadow of wild sound.
"Don’t ever go out that way," pointing to the forest, "Ya hear me, Francesca? Who knows what the hell’s living in that place?"
As the summer months passed and the Russo’s got more comfortable with the neighborhood; which was becoming less intimidating to Mrs. Russo as her husband’s construction company was clearing away many of the neighborhood’s ominous trees; Francesca’s confidence soared.
As the first day of school ended, Francesca exited the building and noticed the two boys from walking with a girl with blond braids named Kristen. Francesca had admired Kristen for her brilliant work in their history with Mrs. Cunningham. On a daily basis, she had answered nearly every one of the Mrs. Cunningham’s questions correctly. She was the type of girl that Francesca knew would make a good friend. Francesca picked up her pace to catch up. She walked past them without a word while studying the needle of a compass.
"Where you going, Fatcesca?" hooted Jared.
Smith chimed in, "Are looking you for the long lost buried treasure of donuts."
"Shut up, you guys," said Kristen.
"I’m just following my compass coordinates, which will lead me home in the shortest possible route."
"That’s pretty neat. I guess you learned that in the Girl Scouts," said Kristen.
"Yeah. I earned a charms merit badge in compass reading and hiking."
Smith laughed, "Where did you hike to? Hamburger town?"
"How come you wear a Girl Scout uniform to school? Don’t you have any other clothes?" asked Jared.
"Just to show Scout spirit, I guess."
"You live at the edge of Blue Point Forest, don’t you?" asked Kristen.
"Yeah, my mom’s afraid of those woods."
"But you’re not afraid, right? I mean you have all that hiking experience," needled Smith.
"Nah, I could get around there easy."
"Here’s a challenge for you," said Jared, "I heard that at the end of the purple dot trail there’s a field of blueberry bushes. If you go in there and bring back blueberries, we’ll tell everybody in school and you’ll be the most popular girl in town."
"And you’ll be our new best friend," added Smith.
"I don’t know about this, guys," said Kristen.
"Deal," said Francesca.
She had once hiked through the paved trails of Prospect Park, but Blue Point Forest had provided her with a few surprises. The first being the extreme darkness of the woods underneath the heavy canopy of green leaves. The second unexpected occurrence was the transformation of the purple dot trail; although not noted on any map; suddenly changing into a yellow dotted one. Francesca was not concerned. She gobbled up her trail mix and marched forward.
The trail narrowed and filled with thorn bushes. Francesca tried to pull up her socks to protect her legs, but was scraped mercilessly. The faint light of the forest began to dim. Her mother must’ve been worried, but the possibility of new friends drove her deeper into the forest. She could almost hear the voices of all her cheering her name. It made her stronger and she pushed on.
A hum of rushing water echoed nearby. She climbed a knoll and admired a creek of pristine waters when something began sprinting through the brush. Her eyes met the backside of a cottontail deer hopping through shrubbery. She sighed and took a swig from her canteen when she heard a thunderous boom. Her hammering heart stopped to listen and was terrified to hear the sound of strange voices. Francesca wasn’t the only person in the forest.
She couldn’t determine which direction the sounds were coming from. She darted, but her hair became tangled in a mess of drooping branches. Another horrific forest explosion sounded. She panicked, tearing her hair loose and running blindly. She heard the voices again and imagined savages of the forest performing some type of hideous ritual. Francesca couldn’t tell if she was going toward the sounds or away from them.
After a minute of scrambling through darkness, Francesca’s chubby legs surrendered. Her plump body lay in a lush carpet of grass. The strange voices were upon her and a bloodcurdling machine grinded what could only be the remaining life of some poor sacrificial lamb. She muttered her mother’s warning, "Don’t ever go out that way. Who knows what lives in that place?"
Her eyelids popped open. She gazed into a white light hovering over a yellow crane with black painted letters reading, Russo Construction.
