Run Davey Run | By: Marsha Marie Monel | | Category: Short Story - Comedy Bookmark and Share

Run Davey Run

  As I sat in the car, I wondered how awesome it would be to have been an only child. Toys, games, clothes, sweets, my OWN room. I snappped out of that never-gonna-happen fantasy when my older sister taps me. "How was track practice, Davina?" Oh, brother. A conversation. "Fine." I replied. "Just fine?" she questioned. YEAH!! JUST FINE!!! SO GET UP OUT MY KOOL-AID!! "I guess it was okay..." I muttered. "You know, you really stink after practice. I got this cute, new, little perfume that is to die for! I could let you borrow it sometimes. I could also curl your hair! You would look s-oh ca-yute! And-" "Yamy! Shut up!" She looked disappointed. But I didn't care. She was always bugging me about being too tomboyish. And I was always yelling at her for gettin' in my bid'ness.

  I hated girly-girls. Which was one of the reasons I hated her. And she hated when people called her Yamy. I actually think it's a cute nickname. Although, everyone knows that mine is is cuter. If you called her Yamina, you would get a smile. If you called me Davina, you would get slapped. Hard. And that's a promise. I'll pinky swear, if you want me to.

 I jumped out of the car and ran up the front steps so I could be the first to sit on that comfy rocking chair on the porch. Thank you, track. "Davina, that's not fair!" Yamy copmplained. "You got to sit in the chair last time!" She was right. Not to mention that I promised her that she could sit in it next time. But the chair was really comfy so I denied it. "No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!'

"Yes you-"

"Enough!" Mom yells. And when Mom says she's had enough, run. "Davey, you were on the chair yesterday! Get up and let your sister sit on it!" I mutter some not-so-nice words. "Excuse me?! You need to understand that you are only 12 years old! You will treat me with respect! Do I make myself clear?" I roll my eyes, say," Yes, ma'am." and stomp into the house as I watch Yamy giggle. Stupid teenager.

 "It's alright, bud." my hillbilly of a dad says. He holds me close. Imagine how hard it would be to live in a bi-racial family. "Your mama's just havin' a bad day, that's all." Not that good of an actor, daddy. I kiss him goodnight and run up the steps. It's good practice anyways. Getting into bed is awkward now since Katy is gone. That little annoying girl use to wake me up in my sleep because of stupid, little nightmares such as a lollipop chasing her. Ever since she died I've been waking up in the middle of the night as a force of habit. Right when my eyelids are beginning to drop, I hear a knock at my door. Geez! Can't my head even hit the pillow before someone comes botherin' me? "Davey?" Yamy's soft voice strangely comforts me. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm running away and never coming back." Dreams do come true! I tell her to come in and sit with me so I can find out what she's blabbering on about. "Mom and Dad are getting divorced!" she cries out. Uh-huh. "How do you know?" I took it as a joke though no one was laughing when Dad left. So now, it just Mom and me. Since, you know, Yamy ran away.

 Mom has been worried sick. But I don't worry. Yamy is smart. Sorta. Anyway, I needed to focus on my track race. Yamy could, like, wait. Running around the neighborhood didn't make me cry. Yamy getting shot did. At the hospital I didn't have hope. No faith. No sorrow. No emotion. I was speechless I didn't expect Yamina to die. I was now scared and alone. Losing both of my sisters would only make Mom become even more over-protective. It was really selfish of me to think about such a thing at that time. A final tear dropped as I sprayed on that cute, new, little perfume.


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