When the World Turned Young

Chapter 2: The Not-so-good Bye

Tracy ran. She ran past buildings and she sprinted across crosswalks. Her parents were being taken to Africa soon. She needed to get home before they left. She almost missed the turn onto Darby Street, and at the last minute weaved through passing cars, trying to ignore the constant honking. She didn't care one bit. Her parents were her only friends in the city. If they left, she would have nobody.

Tracy was running out of breath when she took the shortcut to Onion Avenue, where she lived. The house numbers blurred by. She passed Melissa's new house, a 2-story sky blue house with multicolor window frames and a vibrant yellow awning. It looked like a rainbow vomited a normal house. She passed other houses, too, but she didn't really care about them. She finally reached her house, the smallest on the block. It was a short brick house, with an attic, a main floor, and a basement. Tracy's room was in the topmost window, but it was really nice in the attic. She had 3 bookshelves loaded with hundreds of books and had read most of them twice. She saw her mom's car in the driveway; she doesn't have work on Mondays. Her dad must still be at work. Tracy burst inside and ran downstairs. If her mom was home, she'd be in her basement office. But she wasn't there. She must be getting lunch, Tracy thought, so she headed to the kitchen. When there was no one there she yelled for her. "Mom! Where are you?" The only thing that answered was her echo. She tore through the while house and finally got to her room. Everything was laid out in an extremely organized fashion when she first skimmed the room. All her bookshelves were organized alphabetically, the windows were opened at an exact 45 degree angle, and the supplies on her desk were in neat piles. Everything was perfect, except for the small handwritten note lying on her desk next to a locket. She could tell right away by the slanted lines that it was her mother's writing. The ink was smudgy and the paper was blotted with tears. It read:
My dear Tracy,
The police are rounding up all the adults in the city to send to Africa. I only have five minutes to leave. They gave me no choice, no time to wait for you or your father. In my final words to you, I wish for you to make it through our global suffering with the closest thing to joy you can find. Please remember your father and me with this locket. I wish I could see you again, but there are only so many stars in the night sky for me to wish upon, and I will soon run out. Goodbye, my dearest.
Re-
A line of ink trailed down the page like the tears flowing down Tracy's cheeks.