Introduction
It may have been summer, but it felt like spring hadn't found the bounce in its step yet. It felt like lukewarm fluid to her, both in the bottle and the air outside of it. She pushed the straw between her lips and gulped down some of the brown liquid. She coughed like an experienced chain-smoker suffering from emphysema because the burn has singed her young throat.
"Better than seeing the back side of my mother's bony hand," she voiced to the empty air.
She nipped some more and coughed some more. She couldn't understand how her mother, a drowning alcoholic, could drink such a harsh concoction.
"If I drink this again, I guess I better add more cola," she voiced to the empty air after she stopped hacking.
Up close, the untrained eye could see the concoction as being more whiskey than Coke. From far away, the eye had to be trained just right. It was a good decision to have on a swing set that faced away from the sidewalk. The swing set was from a vintage era and it didn't have many visitors anymore. The light blue paint was peeling in many places and the exposed metal was oxidizing rapidly.
She took a small sip and didn't cough for once. More in control of her faculties, she stared around for a moment figuring she would still be alone. The crunching of pebbles behind her sullied that blind hope. She shut her eyes half-expecting, half-dreading to hear the demanding voice of some authority figure. Instead, it was the sound of sobbing that caught her attention.
She glanced to her right and saw the source of the sad sound. It was a boy with brown hair and his face was pressed into his hands while his elbows were resting on his knees. He was seated on a swing two away from her and even from that distance, she could see the possible source of his discomfort. An adult hand had left a sizable red mark on the boy's face. She immediately moved one swing over and extended a hand of caring onto his left shoulder.
The boy moved his hand away from his face and looked over at the girl who was sitting next to him. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes to see who was comforting him. Immediately, he stopped crying and smiled.
"Thanks," his voice cracked through the tears. "At least somebody cares."
"Not a problem," she voiced. "I know what a hard slap across the face feels like."
"It sucks the big one, doesn't it?" He said with a small laugh.
"Yeah, and I bet it was over something small." She said as she took another small pull from the bottle.
"Yeah, my mom is nuts. I brought home a math test that had a D+ on it." He replied.
"I know that feeling. I talk back at my mom or dad and whether or not they are blitzed, I get it really hard." She said with wholehearted sympathy.
He sniffed loudly. "No kidding. It's the small shit that sets them off and running. Is that Coke?"
She moved her lips to the side in a show of concern, "Not so much Coke. It's more Jack Daniels than anything else."
He sighed without remorse. "Mom prefers Vanilla Stoli with Coca-Cola. She says it's her favorite medicine. I tried it once and the smell made me puke on the spot."
"How's your tolerance then?" She asked as she handed the bottle over.
"I don't have any." The strong smell caught his nose and his stomach almost did backflips. "Man, this shit stinks."
"Take a swig. Maybe you can handle it better than I can." She dared and smirked slightly.
He decided to take her dare but not without holding his nose. He took a quick sip and the organ-removal coughing immediately followed. "Holy balls! That is strong stuff!"
She laughed loudly and she took the bottle back from him. "I think I'll add less Jack next time. Besides that, it tastes pretty good."
"Maybe you should do that." He replied as he finished coughing.
He looked at the ground for a few moments and then his green eyes fixed themselves on her baby blues. She had long, flowing black hair that framed her young face perfectly. She had almond-shaped eyes, a pert nose and a model-like triangular complexion.
"Can I call you Snow White?" He asked figuring the small sip he had taken was already working its magic.
She blushed and giggled a bit, figuring the medication had murdered what little tolerance he had. "That's sweet of you. But my name is Delilah."
He giggled a bit himself, "That's the coolest name I've ever heard, maybe the prettiest. De-li-lah."
She snickered some more and gazed at him. His hair was shaggy and needed to be cut. He had round eyes, a pointed nose and a model-like round complexion. "What's your name, Prince Charming?"
He snickered himself, "Wellll...I don't look the part if you must know. My name is Dylan."
"Dillllllan." She said trilling the L-sound perfectly.
They both laughed out loud and from there, while passing the bottle back and forth between them, time seemed to melt away like snow did in the spring.
Chapter 1
Except time wasn't melting away, it was clicking by at a snail's place.
