𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 ➪ «𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛»

ch. II - 《the gold rush》

.oOo.

No more fireworks sounded that morning, and Diana assumed they had been merely tests for that evening when the celebrations would be in full swing. She had a small inkling of how Americans celebrated the anniversary of their independence, and she knew they were known for going over the top to show their patriotism; the city would surely be overflowing with star and stripes on every available surface once they headed to her godmother's the next day.

Diana only hoped that they were far away enough from the city that the noise wouldn't disturb her precious sleep. She didn't care for the federal holiday, the only thing of significance on that day for her was her brother's and Steve Rogers' birthday.

Soon after breakfast, Felix and Alice scattered away to make use of the boy's present, breaking into an argument over who would bat or throw first. Felix won in the end, bat resting victoriously over his shoulder, having played the birthday card shamelessly; he had simply countered every single one of Alice's statements with, "...but I'm baby."

Diana returned to their side shortly after putting away her book and thanking her parents for cleaning up after them – they responded with something along the lines of, "As if we're not used to it by now," to tease and lowkey guilt-trip her. Diana knew them too well to argue or let herself be too affected.

Watching Alice's and Felix's attempts was boring.

Alice threw the ball either too high or too low, or sometimes with just enough force that it fell short halfway down its intended path, and Felix missed it with every eager swing. Their knowledge of the game was based on the internet and TV, so their nonexistent skills made for a really dull spectacle.

Because of that – and not feeling like burying her nose back in her book on such a sunny and warm day – Diana told her parents that she was going for a walk.

The path she took was a familiar one. She had walked it almost every day for the past two weeks, when it was her turn to fetch water from the stream that it led to, or when she and her siblings went to play around in the water or refresh themselves in the heat of the more humid days.

The trail was narrow but well beaten and visible, and despite her awful sense of orientation, it didn't take a genius to not get lost out there. So, Diana felt confident enough to stroll while letting her eyes wander to the never-ending shadow play projected on her surroundings thanks to the tree canopies, clearly lost in thought.

She thought back to her parent's conversation at breakfast, about Aunt Elena and abuela. She couldn't imagine how awkward the next morning would be, and if there were any way she'd get away with waiting in their rental, she would.

So many hurtful things had been said; past mistakes and spats all uprooted and thrown in each other's faces. Irene had cried in the jeep all the way to the nearest Target's parking lot.

Diana had always joked that there was enough drama in her family to keep telenovelas on air for years; one of the byproducts of a big-ass Afro-Latino family. It was great if you liked juicy gossip, which Diana usually did unless it directly involved the five of them.

A strange sound made her stop in her tracks, pulling her back to reality. It was very faint, almost overwhelmed by the birdsong echoing all around her and the burbling of the stream down the trail, but distinct enough that Diana could pinpoint it.

It came from her left, off her intended path, and Diana had an internal struggle over whether she should follow her gut and check it out or listen to the more rational part of her that told her she was looking to get murdered.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and almost bounced on the balls of her feet, looking back to where the camp lied, then forward where the stream awaited her, then, finally, to her left.