Judges

Chapter One

1919

I stand over her shoulder as she reads a book on the wooden park bench, listening to the rustle of the pages as she turns them, listening to the hollers of the boys playing near us. I've grown to like this girl. I started out indifferent, but she is so calm, so intelligent, and so kind. As I watch her, I grow to like her, and I think that if we could know each other we would be good friends.

We could never be friends, however, because as far as she knows, I don't exist. How could she know about me, she can't see, hear, touch, or smell me? I'm non-existent. And my only job is to watch her and judge her, decide if she is good or bad, to put it simply.

Every day she gets up and reads in the park, and I assume it is because she enjoys the breeze and summer light. She is kind to everyone she meets, and I know she is good at heart. It is a pleasure to know her, even though she will never know me.

I laugh to myself, quietly, because I recognize the book she is reading, and I smile as I remember the ending. She will enjoy it, I know.

Suddenly, I notice her friend calling out to her from across the street. Rose, I remember. The girl looks up from her book and grins.

"I'm coming!"

She tucks her book under her arm and begins to run, down the path to the sidewalk and across the street. I notice she doesn't look both ways, and she keeps running.

She doesn't notice the red truck until it is too late, too close. The driver of the truck hides his face as he accelerates over her body and drives quickly down the street. He is ashamed.

Rose screams as we see the girl's body thud to the ground, seemingly in slow motion.

I run to the girl, and so does Rose and we kneel by her side. I cry over her, as she takes her final, shallow breaths. She cries. She dies crying, quietly, and I cry over her crumpled body in the middle of the city street.

Her name was Cordelia, one I will never forget.