Justice was sitting outside, on the ground. The sky was bright gray and a calm breeze kept the air flowing, fresh -smelling clean, like ozone, like the way air smells after a thunderstorm. The pointed tops of grass and the occasional ants tickled her bare legs as her index finger brought forth stick people in the loose dirt. Next to her was a glass bottle of Dr. Pepper, with mud smudged across the sides from when Justice’s dirty little hands brought the perspiring bottle to her pouty lips. Ants crawled over the bottle cap that rested near her bare feet.
Her lean, stealthy black kitten, Batman, was pouncing about the vicinity, chasing bugs and the wind and wondering off but always coming back. Justice got up, smeared her hands across her stone-washed shorts and proceeded after Batman. Her steps were exaggerated and yet precise, the way you yourself would envision a six-year old girl on the prowl for her favorite feline.
Batman showed no sign of resistance when he was scooped up into Justice’s frail, freckled arms. His soft black fur felt comforting on her pale skin. Batman purred as Justice’s free hand stroked his head. “Kitty,” she addressed him, “I can hear your motor running.” She jostled him unintentionally as she walked back towards the patch of loose dirt where she had been drawing -the place she felt most at home and considered completely her own.
Every day she could be found sitting in that place, usually with a Squeeze-It or a bottle of soda, carrying on endless conversations with herself or Batman. The days when she brought along her coloring books and art box, Batman would slap markers and crayons around in the dirt while Justice patiently and most-dedicatedly completed another work of art. Her tongue was apparently just as important to the coloring process as her delicate hands or her big, dark eyes, for she was in the habit of tracing her tongue about her lips as she finished yet another page that she refused to ever tear out of her coloring book. She liked to keep them together, she said. She didn’t want to hang them on her wall or on the refrigerator, she said.
As the sun began to sit, Justice would hear her mother announce that it was time for supper. She would gather her things and head back towards home, which was always in sight. “You can go anywhere you want as long as you can still see the roof of the house,” her parents told her. She never went anywhere except that one same spot. Often, Justice would be almost home when she would turn around to see if Batman was following her. If he were not, she would run back to her special spot to tell him ‘bye’ and that they would play again tomorrow. Batman would look up lazily as she petted him and then he would continued to relax on the cool, loose dirt -erasing Justice’s work with his soft, dark-and-now-dusty, coat of fur.
That was every day. Every night, her dad would tuck her in, kiss her on the forehead and turn off her big light. She’d say her prayers. Above her bed, suspended by Scotch tape, was the only thing she’d ever created and then separated from its surrounding pages: a prayer, written in a Periwinkle Blue crayon, thanking God for her mom, dad, Batman and for her new little brother Jonas.
Summer ended and the air became airier. The wind became harsher. Justice’s mom would straighten her daughter’s sweater and tell her to have a good day. A kiss on the cheek and then Justice walked to the bus, swinging her My Little Ponies lunch box, the dark ringlets of her hair bouncing.
Justice turned to wave goodbye to her mom and to Jonas, who stood by the door holding his mom’s hand…watching with his own big green eyes that hid beneath his long, blonde hair, but not understanding and not waving back.
And so Justice climbed up into that bus, her white Keds sneakers on a dirty black step and her little nervous hand gripping the cold silver handrail. And so Justice made her first step into aduthood. And so Justice grew up. And what did she become? How did every day, day after day the same, turn into a distinct past and present? When was the last time she played in the dirt?
NOTE: The rest of this story has been removed, as it is currently being revised.