Girl Meets Boy

✍️ Chapter Three �" Girl Meets Boy

Chris Approaches

Chris burst out the door, shoving her Walmart Special along the dirt path. The chain dragged and clattered against the ground with each push.

Mary, looking out the window and groaned to herself. Oh, dear Lord. What’s she up to now?

Chris marched straight toward the boy, her ponytail bouncing behind her like a banner announcing her arrival.

“Hey, you!” she called boldly. “Do you know anything about fixing old bikes?”

Mathew�"nineteen, dark-haired, and alone with his thoughts until this moment�"turned slowly. He studied the strange little figure standing before him.

“Well,” he said cautiously, “I suppose it depends on what’s wrong with it.”

“Oh dear,” Chris sighed, staring mournfully at her broken bicycle. “I’m afraid my bike is a completely complicated mess. It’s this chain. It keeps falling off. I try to imagine it isn’t so, but every time I almost imagine it away�"plunk!�"off it comes again.”

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice as though confiding a terrible secret.
“I don’t understand why things don’t just stay where they’re supposed to. Just imagine if mountains decided to suddenly move from one place to another. How horribly confusing that would be for anyone with intentions of becoming an Olympic skier!”

Chris spread her arms wide, dramatizing the thought.
“One day you might go to Colorado expecting snow capped peaks, only to find�"with the most horrible of horrors�"they’ve wandered down to Florida. Don’t you think that would be tragically tragical?

I can't think of anything more tragical than that.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully,

“Unless a flood should suddenly come and sweep us all away this very moment.

Drowned like flea infested rats. That might be considerably worse, I think.”

She stopped and tilted her head.

“What does it mean to be-drowned like a rat.? Wouldn't being drowned like a rat be no different than say being drowned like a cat, cow, anything else? It makes absolutely no sense to me at all. I suppose some things are better off to ponder on another day. This may be one of them.”

Mathew blinked, trying to process this whirlwind of a girl with her wild eyes and even wilder words.

Scratching the back of his neck, Mathew asked,

“Do you always talk this much?”

Chris gasped softly. “Oh, but if only you knew how much more I could say but don’t! I can barely get it all out as it is. Don’t you ever have more thoughts than words? I do�"all the time.”

“I suppose some people are content saying nothing at all. As for me, why, it would be better to be tortured by wild and vicious savages than to be forced to be silent!”

I think those who do not speak lack any sort of imagination. Don't you think so too?

She raised an invisible sword, slashing the air with dramatic flair.
“To be drawn and quartered! Wouldn’t that be a horrible way to go?”

She swirled her arms about again,

“Back you savages, back.”

She paused, eyes wide with wonder.
“Although, truth be told, I don’t exactly know what it means, to be drawn and quartered. I’ve heard, however, it isn’t pleasant.”

Mathew could only stare

“My grandpa barely speaks a word.” she continued, “ Not that he lacks imagination. I think he imagines plenty to say, but just before the words come out�"swoosh!�"they’re gone. He swallows them down again.

“Don’t you think that must be the saddest thing? To have something to say, but never let it out? I’d simply wither away if that were my fate.”

Her tone softened, almost sorrowful, before rising again with energy.
“He is a wonderful listener though. He listens to all my stories without a single interruption. But when he does speak�"oh, you’d better listen, because he’s not likely to repeat it.”

Mathew finally smirked, shaking his head.
“Is this conversation ever going to come to a point, or are you planning to rattle on forever?”

Chris crossed her arms, indignant.
“Well, I suppose it will… at some point. I might even allow you to join in�"if you have something interesting to say. But really, isn’t it painfully awful when someone drones on and on and never says anything interesting?”

Mathew chuckled. “Yes. I think I’ve just discovered that.”

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Author's Note

Welcome to what we call Chris Chat. Your ears will be sore, or maybe your eyes.