Kiwi, 5


“Leave me alone!” Little Kiwi Link shouted at the top of her lungs. She clutched a red toy truck to her chest and frowned. This was not how her first day of kindergarten was supposed to start.
“Girls aren’t s’pposed to play with cars, they’re s’pposed to braid hair! Gimme the truck!” An obnoxious Turner Woods demanded. “I wannit!”
“Girls can play with trucks, too.” Kiwi stuck out her blue ring-pop covered tongue out at Turner. “And I’m going to!”
“That’s not fa-air!” Turner whined.
“Is too. If you can say that girls hafta braid, then I can play with the truck.” Kiwi stated, calmly, her anger fading.
“Not true.”
“No?” Kiwi turned to a boy with dirty blonde hair, and an “I Hate Homework” t-shirt sitting in the corner of the playground. “Hey! You think it’s fair I ain’t ‘llowed to play with this truck?”
The boy stood up, he was about four inches taller than Kiwi, and two more than Turner, and ambled over. “Why you wanna play with a truck?”
“It’s fun.”
“Well, do whatchu want, I guesses… but only if I can play too, then I’mma have to ask you to put down the apparatus.”
Kiwi paused. Then looked at the boy, then the truck. And then moments later, she, the blonde, and Turner were sitting down in the sandlot playing with three toy trucks.
“I’m Kiwi.” She was now saying.
“I’m Turner,” the first boy announced. He put his hands on his waist and stood up tall, puffing out his chest. “I’m the king of this playground! Girl, make me some puddin’ cake!”
“No such thing, hon,” Kiwi said, sweetly. “But I’d be glad to make you a black eye for dessert.”
Turner sat down.
“I’m Nathanial… but call me Rhett. I hate my name, it’s so stupid, I guesses.” Rhett said, looking down at his truck, which was (thanks to Turner) submerged in sand.
“Why you always be guessin’?” Turner asked, Rhett.
“’Cuz I dunno the answers to nothin’, so I guesses.” He shrugged. “You know the answers to ev’rything?”
“Yeah.”
“I highly doubt that you do,” Kiwi declared.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re so dumb,” Turner stuck out his tongue.
A minute later, Turner was pinned to the ground by a 47lb girl with pigtails, holding a red toy truck. “I guesses you’s not so dumb,” Turner laughed as soon as Kiwi let go of his arm.

Kiwi, 11


“This has gotta be the worst day, ever.” Turner whined, as he, Kiwi, and Rhett piled off the school bus. It was a dry, Friday in September, the first week of 6th grade had flown by just like the leaves on the freshly paved road.

“Why, your papa forgot to bring home you some of them escargot junk?” Rhett snorted.

“Why’re you always pickin’ on Turner, Rhett?” Kiwi asked, as she brushed a strand of hair from her face. She’d grown it out past her shoulder and was very content. She was already liking 6th grade, and had a smile on her face. “He can’t help bein’ rich.” Then to Turner, she said, “So what is wrong?”

“I’ve got Mrs. Pinckney. She’s terrible—she assigns so much homework, and she hates me. Called me useless.”

Kiwi looped her arm through Turner’s and smiled up at him—her being only about 4’’11.

“It’ll be a’ight, Turner, Mrs. Pinckney’s just an ol’ hag, her kids prob’ly grew up alr’dy, and she don’t have no one to boss around no more, that’s probably it.”

“Yeah, she’s just mean. Forget her.” Rhett added, but less convincing.

This was the thing with Kiwi. No matter the situation, she could put a smile on their faces by just sayin’ a few kind words (or in this case, not so kind words) and makin’ everything all better. Even after all she’d been through at home and with other kids at school, Kiwi managed to give life a little sugar n’ spice.


“Kiwi, dear, come help with the dishes.” Mrs. Link called from the kitchen, one night in October.

Kiwi was just finishing up her diary entry. “Coming!” She called. She threw her pen down and ran to the kitchen.

“Sweetie, your father isn’t going to be home tonight or the next. He’s got a bit of a problem with Link, see, Link did a very bad thing a while back. He went off and took your daddy’s car an’ had some assaults on his record, and that’s not legal, so you see Kiwi, dear, Link is going to jail for a while…” Mrs. Link said slowly, so Kiwi would understand.

Kiwi’s eyes welled up with tears and she dropped a plate as she tried to wipe them away. It shattered to the ground with a clang. Kiwi heard her mother’s voice, a few nights back, saying “It’s gon’ be okay, sugar. Link’s goin’ away for a while…” Kiwi had bruises all up along her arms and legs, but not a single scar in sight. She continued the rest of 6th grade in a silent trance, only speaking to her teachers when directly asked, and talking with Rhett and Turner. She’d sneak out at night just to sleep beside Turner, even though it cost her a long walk in the cold, frosty air. In the mornings, she’d be tired from the distance she had to go to Turner’s and back to her house again, but her parents never found out.


Kiwi, 12



“I don’t know why girls always gotta be worry’n about their hair all of’a sudden,” Turner was telling Kiwi, as he squeezed some lemons together and let the liquid-y juice fall into a half chipped pitcher. It was the middle of summer in the middle of the day. August afternoons in Rosedale Hill were always sweltering and unbearable.

Rhett was lounging on his mama’s striped lawn chair, pickin’ daisies off of his tiny front yard grass. He plucked each petal off one by one, and had been doin so since about 11 am that mornin’ when Kiwi and Turner had come over.

“Rhett, what’re you doin’, darlin?” Kiwi asked, cocking her head to the side. “Is that… a daisy?”

Rhett’s face flushed and he threw the flowers down. “No,” He grunted.

“But Rhett, I saw ‘em in your hand, just right now. You’re pickin’ daisies!!” Kiwi’s apple round face turned into a smile. “Who’re they for, Rhett?”

“No one.” He muttered, and turned his back to Kiwi.

Kiwi giggled. She wasn’t going to stop bugging him until he told her, and besides, they were best friends, she ought to know. “Is it a giiiiiirl?”

“Naw, Rhett’s as straight as an upside down ‘u’,” Turner snickered. “It’s for me, of course. I’m his lover boy now an—“

“Can it, Turner, sugar, I need to know who this girl is,” Kiwi said, immediately hushing up Turner. Whenever she called them, “sugar,” or “dear,” or “darlin’,” and even sometimes, “baby,” the boys couldn’t help but do exactly as Ms. Kiwi said, for what she said went. And if they were to ever disagree with their precious Kiwi, they’d surely be awake at the earliest hours in the mornin’ trynna figure out ways to woe her back. Kiwi was easily entranced, but because she had a few trust issues, (regardin’ boys, due to the fact that her brother was menacing) one would think she only hung out with girls.

This was not true, not one bit. Kiwi was completely one of the boys, however she was as dainty and pretty as the flowers Rhett had scooped up. She wore her hair down and loose, her strawberry blonde hair tumblin’ down her bare shoulders. Kiwi never bothered to bring jackets in the winter, and the boys (even some of the other young men at St. Crawford Middle) were always offerin’ her their coats. In the summer, she wore a tank top and shorts, and a pair of mismatched flip flops. Ev’ry now and then, she’d wear lip gloss, but always wiped it off before seeing Rhett and Turner. She could never let them think that’d she’d grown up—nonetheless developed into a girl.

“It’s no’un.” Rhett mumbled to the wall. He hunched his shoulders and looked down at a worm poking its head through a small hole in the soil.

Kiwi squatted down on her knees and gazed up at Rhett. “Don’t screw with me, Brian Rhett.”

“Don’t call me that,” He snapped. He hated being called his real name, it reminded him of his father—his stupid, no good, drunk, jobless, and horrible father.

“I won’t,” She said suddenly, “I’m real sorry, Rhett. I didn’t mean’ta—““Hey, guys, shaddup, will ya? It’s done. Rhett’s in love and he won’t tell ya, it’s over with, come back to it another day,” Turner said, as he wiped his sweaty forehead. “Here, just shut up an’ drink the lemonade.”

The three then sat in silence for the next fifteen minutes, Rhett havin’ a starin’ competition with the worm, Kiwi feelin’ as if she’d offended Rhett when she knew very well she had, an’ Turner left to be proud for makin’ a whole batch of lemonade all by himself.

Turner was a spoiled child. He had just about everything, and everything he had was done for him. He wasn’t used to doin’ chores like the other kids ‘round town, and he had never taken out the trash in his entire life. It was a wonder how hard workin’, dim-sighted Rhett, and rich, educated Turner were friends. They’d been since they were tots, and never really noticed their differences until people’d brought it up a few years back. They didn’t mind. It was what made ‘em closer, in a way. Only Rhett was the one who felt ashamed, lookin’ like a fool next to Turner.

“Do you think that this lemonade’ll make me look fat?” Kiwi’d asked a few moments after they finished hosing down the cups.

“What?” Rhett asked, puzzled. The worm had slithered away and he was getting bored with staring at his shoelace, which in fact, not only was half nibbled off by his dog, but lay limply against his foot.

“Kiwi thinks this lemonade’ll make her look fat.” Turner said. To Kiwi, he raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about how much you weigh? You’re a twig anyways.”

“Twigs are flat and ugly!” Kiwi wailed, her pigtails drooping slightly as she said this. “I just wanna be a pretty flower, not an ugly tree branch.”

“Flowers wilt. Tree’s are sturdy.” Turner replied. “It’s good to be a twig.:

“But they’ll snap, after a while, unless of course somethin’ happens to it,” Rhett added, lookin’ Kiwi in the eye.

“And what would make it snap?” Kiwi was now quite interested in their little comparisons.

“Lightenin’,” Rhett shrugged, as if he knew all about this.

“So the pretty girls are flowers, and the twigs are girls like Kiwi,” Turner concluded.

“Then what’s the lightening?” Kiwi asked, leaning forward towards Rhett. She was desperate to know, now.

“Middle school.” Rhett said after a few seconds. “Definitely middle school.”


The last days of summer had arrived. Kiwi and Rhett were riding their bikes over to Turner’s house. Kiwi had taken the streamers off her bike a couple days back, knowing all very well that if she rode to school with pink and purple strings o her handles, she’d surely get laughed at. Nobody in middle school had streamers. And if nobody did, Kiwi certainly wouldn’t be the exception. Besides, she’d outgrown them years ago.

“So, are you nervous?” Rhett’d asked, as they took a shortcut through the grass field of the middle school. “This’s where we’re gonna be, in less than a week… Middle school.” He breathed the words as if he was speakin’ to God himself, slowly and clearly, longing and hopeful, but also a bit frightened.

“A bit,” Kiwi shrugged. “It’s just 7th grade. not much to be afraid ‘bout, not yet.” Inside she was aching to tell Rhett she was simply horrified of just the thought of entering a new school. She knew that boys would tease her, the girls would ignore her, and the teachers would pity her an’ treat her like a delicate in their hamper—like always. But she could never find the will to tell him this.

“I think,” Rhett said slowly, “that everything’ll change.”

“You ‘fraid of change, Rhett?”

“Only if it’s bad.”

“Well, what would change?”

“You’ll forget.”

Kiwi was stunned. She rode carefully on the road now, like she was countin’ the little pebbles on the ground.

“I mean it, like, what if you meet a girl an’ she takes you away or somethin’? Or-or-or what if you meet a guy. Yeah… he’ll be all over you… you’ll have all the guys linin’ up at your door once they get a good look at you, Kiwi.”

“Rhett, that’s not true.”

They rode in silence for about two minutes, then when they finally arrived at Turner’s house, they threw their bikes down on the grass and began to walk up the steps. Rhett was about to say somethin’ else, but he bit his tongue.

Turner’d left the door open and Kiwi walked right in. She expected Mrs. Woods holdin’ a bowl of popcorn and waiting for Kiwi and Rhett to come in. She’d say, “Well how do you do, Ms. Link? My, you’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you. In fact, I’d say you’re gettin’ more of a beaut every day. Sit down, child, I’ll go get your favorite.”

Mrs. Woods had the best red velvet cake. She’d perfected the dish about eight years back, when Kiwi an’ Rhett were about five. Turner’d stuck up his nose to the dish, but Kiwi force fed him three full bites. After that, Turner had decided that he adored red velvet, and Kiwi herself. Course, he’d never tell anyone that.

Turner was sitting on the couch flipping the channels on the TV. “Nothin’ on… only crap.” He’d said, as soon as Mrs. Woods left for the kitchen.

Rhett plopped down beside him and helped himself to a handful of chips sittin’ on a pillow cushion. “Then let’s do somethin’. TV’s borin’ anyways.”

Kiwi sat down on Turner’s right and looked at Turner’s profile, while he was flipping through more channels. He had dark brown hair and freckles splattered across his cheeks. She had a sudden urge to reach out and—

“Kiwi, what do you wanna do?” Turner asked, facing her, the moment gone.

“I’unno,” Kiwi shrugged.

Rhett got up to use the bathroom and it was just the two of them on the sofa.

“School’s startin’ up soon… and Rhett was sayin’ how he’s scared everything will change… do you think… things will change?”

Turner sat for a while and thought. Then he said, “Yeah. They will… not everything, but some things indeed… we’ll always be the best of friends, the three of us. Always. I know it. But I’m sure as hell some guy’ll come and scoop you up anytime now—“

“Stop it, already.”

“Stop what?”

“You know just what. Goin’ off about how I’m going to get ‘woed’ soon. I’m not a catch and you know it.” Kiwi looked away and bit her lip, as if doing so would make the tears go away.
“You know something, Kiwi?”

Kiwi squinted, trying to read Turner’s expression. “What do I know, Turner? Please, do tell.”

“You’ve got… nice eyes.” He mumbled.

Before Kiwi could hesitate, Turner was leaning towards her. Their faces were inches apart when Rhett came out of the bathroom.

“Hey guys, I’ve got an id—“ He stopped short, looking at the presentation before him. “Umm…” He backed away slowly from the sofa, bumping into a wall, then continuing walking backwards.

Rhett stumbled outside into Turner’s backyard and tried entertaining himself with a couple of worms slithering around.

Turner was still staring into Kiwi’s eyes when she hopped up, quickly and twisted a strand of hair around her pinky. “We should… go with Rhett. Those worms look kinda lonely…”

“Yeah, we should—“ But Kiwi didn’t hear him, she was already outside. Turner breathed in and out a couple of times, then smiled to himself a little bit before stepping into his backyard.


The sun was low in the sky, the clouds were pink and orange, and Kiwi and Rhett had just left from Turner’s house a few minutes earlier. Rhett was still a little awkward from the episode before, and Kiwi was giddy with excitement. She could hardly ride in a straight path without veering off to the side and telling Rhett how “simply wonderful” that day had been.

“I didn’t know you liked Turner like that, Kiwi.” Rhett said, quietly, as they were peddling across a cul-de-sac.

“I didn’t know either.” Kiwi breathed. Her eyes were all twinkly, like stars in the night sky.

“Well, you two’re real neat together.”

“Don’t go off sayin’ that, Rhett.”

“Why not?”

“Cuz,” Kiwi stated coolly, as she rode over a pothole without so much as a cringe, “It’s middle school. Everything’ll change. This’s my street. See ya in a bit, Rhett, love.”

She left Rhett on the street wondering if he’d ever love another girl who wasn’t Kiwi Link.

Kiwi, 13


The first month of 8th grade rolled by like wheels on a skateboard, and Kiwi was actually adjusted quite well. She’d been used to the middle school ways for a while now, but what she had not been accustomed to was the many stares she got from boys. Though it seemed almost every boy was trying to catch her eye, she couldn’t make friends with any of the girls. Every time she’d smile in a friendly way or try to start up a conversation, they’d just roll their eyes or pretend to be listening. Then before Kiwi would even introduce herself properly, they’d have gotten up and walked away.

Just the day before, Kiwi was sittin’ alone at lunch. Turner was in dentention for talking back to a teacher, and Rhett was home with a nasty cough. Kiwi hadn’t yet talked to anyone besides her teachers, the occasional hallway collision with a random student, and of course, Rhett and Turner. She’d been getting a lot of evil eyes from the girls, especially the popular ones, and really did wonder what she did to them.

A group of girls were passin’ by Kiwi’s spot underneath an oak tree on the front lawn, and did not appreciate Kiwi’s stares. See, Kiwi was in awe of the girls’ perfect hair, and the way they were so confident, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they were goddesses themselves. Mind you, this was not a smart move.
A tall brunette with fair skin sneered at her. “What’re you lookin’ at?”
Kiwi bit her lip. “I’ono, you were jus’ walkin’ past, an’—“
“Listen, Strawberry. I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on, but someone oughta tell you, that there is no way you’ve got a brain up there. I’ll be damned, you certainly don’t know anything.”
Kiwi’s expression was blank, and hard to read. So the girl sighed heavily and said very slowly, “You’re… a… freak.”
Almost every day for the first four weeks, Kiwi would leave Rhett and Link during lunch to be alone for a while. She’d lock herself in a stall and stay there all through fifth period, sixth, and seventh. When the last bell sounded, Kiwi’s eyes would be red and she could not cry anymore.
One day, she didn’t take the bus. She walked home, in the rain, and didn’t arrive at her house until an hour after school’d let out. That day, Kiwi’d never been so sure of anything in her life. She knew this was true: she was different.


“Yuck.” Turner sneered when he saw a poster for the “8th grade dance” on a wall. He stuck out his tongue. “Who wants to go to a stupid dance?”

Kiwi studied the poster for a couple of seconds, and then said, “I would. It looks like fun.”

“Naw, you can’t go to that, Kiwi. It’s for all the sluts an’ whores, anyways. All they do is dance on each other; I don’t see why you’d wanna go to that.” Rhett rolled his eyes. “It’s jus’ like Turner said. It’s stupid.”

Kiwi bit her lip, then shook her head. “I’m going.” And she marched off to the office to buy her ticket. As she was walking, Turner called out, “Well don’t be blamin’ it on us when you come back pregnant!”


“Oh, darlin’ you look simply beautiful.” Mrs. Link admired Kiwi the night of the dance. “It’s a wonder you wanted to go to the dance alone, though… nobody asked you?”

“Mama, I don’t wanna date.” Kiwi answered. “B’sides, nobody would’ve wanted to go with me, anyways.”

“You’re a catch, though.” Her mother said, in disbelief.

“Well not ev’ryone’s gonna like me in life, Mama. Oh, do’ya know when Link’s comin’ to visit us?”

Sighing, Mrs. Link looked sternly at Kiwi. “I’ve told you before, he’s not coming back for a long time. He’s got too many problems. He’s dangerous. Why do you always ask ‘bout him?”

“I love him, Mama. It’s simple.”

“Well he don’t love you, child.”

“Yes he does,” Kiwi said quietly.
Looking at her watch, Mrs. Link told Kiwi it was time for her to go, and no more talk about Link was to be said.

Kiwi nodded, shut the door, and made her way over to the school. It was only about 5 o’clock, and the sun was setting slowly. Kiwi imagined herself slow dancing with someone, then when she realized that she couldn’t think of anyone who would, she erased the image from her head. So instead of taking a right, Kiwi turned left onto Silver Gate Street.

“What’re doing, here?” Turner asked, when he saw Kiwi appear on his doorstep. “You’re s’pposed to be at the dance!”

“I decided not to go,” Kiwi whispered. “I’d ‘ave felt outta place. Nobody at school even knows me, so figur’d I’d some an’ stay with you a while… at least until the dance is over. Then I can go home.”

Turner must’ve looked awful surprised, because Kiwi waved her hand in front of his face a few times. “Turner? Turner??”

“Oh,” He said, snapping out of it. “Sorry, I… um, come in.”

Kiwi smiled and stepped inside. The house was dark and the only light was the TV screen. “Your parents home?”

“Nah, they’re out at for dinner.” Turner muttered.
“Turner?”
“Yeah?”
“You think Link’s ever comin’ back?”
“Yeah. He’s got this thing, where he can’t be away from home for too long. He’ll be back ‘fore you know it, Kiwi.”
“Mama said he don’t love me… you think it’s true?”
“I’ll go get some food… Be right back. Go ‘head and start the movie.”

Two minutes later, he came back with a bowl of popcorn, two sodas, and a slice of red velvet cake. He saw Kiwi in tears, dabbing her eyes. She sniffled sadly and tried wiping away her tears. Turner didn’t have the chance to ask her what was wrong, because ‘fore he knew it, Kiwi’s head was resting on his shoulders.

Kiwi spent the rest of the night watching Forrest Gump in Turner’s arms.

Kiwi, 14


“I saw Kyle Johnson lookin’ at you, today, Kiwi,” Turner said on the walk home. Rhett was to Kiwi’s right and nodded furiously, almost dropping his popsicle.

“The jerk was practic’ly droolin’, too,” Rhett muttered.

“You two don’t know what’cher babblin’ on about,” Kiwi kicked a pebble as she said this. “He ‘as prob’ly lookin’ at Emma Jean, anyways. She’s always dollin’ herself up for him.”
“Nah, he was definitely lookin’ your way, Kiwi.”
Kiwi bent her head down, her hair almost shielding her face.
Now, if Rhett hadn’t dropped his wrapper on the sidewalk and bent down to pick it up, he’d ‘ave missed the grin slowly inching up Kiwi’s lips.
“Hey Turner, she’s smilin’,” Rhett’s voice cracked a bit at the end of his thought, and he immediately tried to cover it up with a cough, but Kiwi caught it.
“Oh Rhett, you’re talkin’ crazy, and anyways, you’ve ought to do somethin’ about that voice of yours, take some coughin’ drops, yeah?”
“Kiwi,” Turner began to whine. “It happens to ev’ryone. Fact is, I woke up, and next thing you know, I speak like a croakin’ frog.”
Kiwi bit her lip and looked at the sidewalk.
Turner went on and on about how he’d been the first in the class to get a voice change (Rhett interrupted by saying it was him, first, and that it was called “puberty,” in which Turner responded with a rude hand gesture and a sneer) until he ran out of breath from talkin’.
Kiwi hesitated then said, “Turner?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s it like to be in love?”
This shut him up fast. Rhett snickered a bit, but when Kiwi whipped her head around and asked him if he even knew what love was, Rhett hushed up as well. And now the three walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
After crossin’ a few streets more, Turner finally spoke. “It’s a wonderful feelin’, I suppose. You’re always thinkin’ about ‘em, what they’re doin’, how they feel ‘bout you, and ‘specially if you know ‘em really well…” He let his voice trail off before lookin’ Kiwi in the eye. Kiwi’s face flushed up and her cheeks got all pink and rosy. But she didn’t look away, no, Kiwi was smiled back at Turner.
Rhett was now shuffling a few paces behind the two. It’s best to let them have their lil’ talkin’ up and about love. Turner loves Kiwi. And she knows it.
Kiwi, however, would not let such a thing happen. “Now Rhett what’re you doin’ all the way over there? Come ‘ere, and tell me something about the big, wide, city. You know I’ve always wanted to go.”
Rhett’d been to the city many times, visitin’ his papa in New York. It was nothing much, but he’d been pleased to see he’d stopped drinking. Even Turner’d never been.
“You know, somethin’ Kiwi?” Rhett asked.
“What, Rhett?”
“I do believe we should, all three of us, move to the city together. Buy a big ol’ house, or even an apartment will do, and live there.”
“Well ain’t that the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard?” Turned laughed. But when neither Kiwi nor Rhett guffawed along with ‘im, Turner cleared his throat with a measly lil’ cough and stopped talkin’ all together.
“I think it’s a glorious idea,” Kiwi said, firmly. “We’ll move. All three of us. An’ Turner? If you don’t want to be a part in this, then that’s mighty fine with me, Rhett an’ I will just get married, and we won’t be invitin’ you to our wedding. Ain’t that right, Rhett? We’re gonna get ourselves married.”
“Why you always goin’ off about marriage?” Turner asked. “Fifth grade, you wanted me, now you want Rhett. Can’t have ‘em all, Kiwi.”
Kiwi ignored him. “Rhett, I think we’d make a beautiful couple.” Of course, she could never marry Rhett. She wasn’t right for him at all, and the three of them knew it. But there was something that didn’t stop her from biting her tongue.
“I don’t believe in marriage no more, Kiwi.” Rhett mumbled, suddenly intrigued with his frayed shoelace. “No such thing, any who. Marriage is as real as women’s appeal to Turner.”
“Women love me,” Turned snapped.
“You’re a boy, Turner, women don’t love you. But I love you, and sure as hell I should count for somethin’.” Kiwi declared. If only she knew she’d made both of the boys float home on Cloud 9 that day.
Turner didn’t have the guts to tell Kiwi she was as much of a woman as there ever could be.
“You’re no ladies’ man, Turner.” Rhett snickered. “But it’s a’ight. We can’t all be knockouts.”
“And I suppose you’re implyin’ that you are?”
“Never said such a thing.”
“Never didn’t.”
“Never did, never have, never will.”
“Never didn’t, never haven’t, never won’t.”
“Will you two just shut up?” Kiwi snapped.
“You.”
“No, really.”
“No, really, what?”
“Turner you’re bein’ a real asshole. Will you just shut the damned hell up and listen?”
The two stopped arguing and turned their ears to the faint sound of a desperate call. It was Kiwi’s parents, screaming for help.
This only meant one thing, of course. Link was home.
Kiwi picked up speed and soon, was sprinting in the direction of her house, now only a block away. She was running as fast as her heart was beating, and by the time she reached her house with Rhett, and a huffing and puffing Turner, she saw that her house was on fire.
Link was walking out the door, spinning a keychain liter on his right pinky, just as Mr. Link came out.
“ROBERT, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
“It’s already done, Pops.” He rolled his eyes and continued down the driveway until he bumped into Kiwi. “What the hell are you looking at?”
Kiwi’s cheeks were stained with tears and she looked up at her big brother. “Link?”
“What do you want?”
“Why’d you do that?” Kiwi asked, quietly, afraid her voice might egg on the flames that were feasting on her house. Her parents were calling the fire department as Rhett and Turner ran to the side of the house and sprayed what they could with a hose.
Link didn’t answer at first. Then he frowned down at Kiwi. “None of your business why I do any damned thing, Kiwi.”
“It is too my business. It’s my house!” Her voice was weak, and helpless. She sounded so tiny, then.
When he didn’t respond, Kiwi started up again. “I said, WHY’D YOU DO THAT, Link!” She cried in an even bigger voice. Her only answer was her bare shoulders scraping the gravel and blood streaming from her lip, as she thudded against the pavement. Her stomach lurched as she felt the hard tip of a shoe jerk into her side. Link spat on the ground beside her and walked away.
Kiwi’s vision blurred.
Then she blacked out all together, the only remaining sounds of her two best friends who were frantically yelling and the sirens of the fire department appearing to be so far away.


Kiwi awoke in the Rosedale Hill hospital, two days later. She’d been knocked unconscious, given a brief surgery for her broken bones, and given several doses of medication. Her lashes hazily fluttered open to see her mother in a seat beside her bed, gripping her hand shakily, and sobbing quietly to herself. Her father was talking with the doctor and a man dressed in a black suit, clutching two portfolios with paperwork tumbling out.
Rhett and Turner were outside in the waiting room. Once they were allowed inside Kiwi’s room, Turner rushed to her side. He clutched her hand and looked into her sea green eyes. She blinked once, then twice, then began bawling her heart out.
“Oh, Lord,” Rhett breathed, brushing a stray hair from her face. Her head was hot, and her eyes bloodshot red. Turner looked worriedly at Rhett.
“It was horr’ble. I’m never forgivin’ Link, ever.” She vowed, wiping a tear from her cheek.
“There, there.” Turner whispered. “He won’t be back, ever.”
It was a shame that such a pretty little darling could be so messed up.