Glass Houses

Curiosity

Whatever the girl's intent, she clearly knew that she wasn't supposed to be climbing the fence. In fact, one of her feet was resting on top of the "Private Property" sign, a signal of direct defiance. It was almost as if she wanted anyone who was watching to see that she would take any obstacle in her way and use it like a stepping stone, another tool to get to her final destination.

I nearly laughed out loud at the thought of my own teenage life. I had been the good girl, the nice girl. I was the one who followed the rules, who was the teacher's pet, and the one who always turned in her homework. This girl was obviously a far cry from what I had been at her age. Glancing back at the teen, I sighed and contemplated what I could do. There was the option of calling the police, but despite the "bad girl" look the girl was striving for, she looked like she had a goal that was probably not vandalizing private property, and that goal was probably none of my business. I could keep driving, which would probably have been the best course of action, but I knew that if I did I would probably go crazy out of curiosity if I did. That left only one option.

I pulled my beat-up old car to the side of the road, and, as quietly as I could, opened the door and stepped out. I immediately began to shiver. It was mid-October, and recently the temperature had taken a plunge. Teeth chattering, I walked towards the part of the fence that the girl was climbing, the part with the "Keep Out" sign. As I approached, I called out to the girl, which I later realized was probably an extremely stupid idea. "What are you doing?" My voice shattered the eerie silence that always surrounded that place, the place with the fence.

For one second, the world slowed down. 

Then, her head turned, and an expression of shock that I could see even from my position several yards away registered on her face. Then, with a grace that showed she had obviously done things like this before, she vaulted off the fence and landed neatly on her feet. I was almost going to clap at the impressive feat of balance and acrobatics, but then she was running towards me. Before I could quite process what was happening, the girl had her arm around my neck in a chokehold.

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't shake her off. I may not have been weak, but the teen was strong. I knew that there was no getting free. I closed my eyes, mentally slapping myself for not calling the police, or driving home, or anything else that wouldn't have gotten me into this situation. Then, just when I thought I was about to black out from lack of oxygen, a harsh voice whispered into my ear.

"What are you doing here?"