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Life

You had a best friend, Vita. You'd known her since first grade. She was a troublemaker: she smoked in the schoolyard, drank behind the garages, and was always being dragged to the principal's office. You, on the other hand, were a quiet, straight-A student who was afraid to even be late. But as soon as the bell rang, you'd meet around the corner, and a new life would begin. Vita was constantly throwing out crazy ideas: running from the police through someone else's garden, or "borrowing" a crate of apples from someone else's car. You knew it was wrong, but your heart pounded with delight. You were happy with her. And you felt something more than friendship for her. Something you were afraid to admit even to yourself. It happened after school. A fine, nasty rain had started to fall. You were walking under the same umbrella—your blue one. Vita was smoking, blowing smoke to the side. Inside this little "house," it was warm and cozy because she was so close. "Have you really never tried it?" Vita suddenly asked, squinting slyly. “No,” you answered. “Not once.” "Let's try a gypsy dance?" the voice sounded light.

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