Coyotes

This is why I need new friends, I think as I run down the stairs, two at a time. They are stupid to already be drunk at 5pm, but I haven’t seen them all break and they are always entertaining when they are drunk. I am especially looking forward to Bridget’s Bill Cosby impressions and Kristen’s one woman rendition of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. As I hop into the car and drive away, I wonder what counts as “terribly wrong”…I laugh as I imagine that Bridget tied Kristen’s shoes together and they can’t figure out why she keeps falling over.

Even as kids, Bridget always picked on Kristen. From taking her Barbie’s clothes to making her be the dog when we played house, Bridget always gave Kristen the short end of the stick. I have always been the peacekeeper in our trio, and I guess tonight will be no exception.

Damn red lights, I think tapping my foot anxiously on the gas pedal. I still can’t believe they want me to go to Richie Park Elementary. I haven’t been there since our last day of high school. The playground was our place to make up stories about our future husbands, slay imaginary dragons and vow that college would not change our friendships. Ha, nothing has changed at all, I think as drive straight through the stop sign without a thought, even the cops do it. I drive up the treacherously steep hill that we biked up millions of times, pull into the abandoned lot and put the car in park.

It’s unusually dark out for 5pm in March and windy too. I head across the overgrown soccer field towards the forgotten, old, wooden playground, displaced by the newer, shinier, plastic one. I listen for their drunken voices, no doubt screaming about something as stupid as their favorite American Idols or who bought their converses first. But there is only silence. I try to ignore the goosebumps that begin to overtake my body. It had to be a joke, I reassure myself. They never get into real trouble; they just like beer a little too much and forget where they live every once in a while. That, I am used to. But this eerie silence on the playground, I am not used to.

No voices. No squeaky swings. No empty beer cans. No Bridget or Kristen. Until…

A blood-curdling scream comes from the trees across the field. I whip my head around and see Bridget come tearing across field, with Kristen right on her heels. They catch up to me in seconds, scream “RUN, ALISON” and I sprint alongside them, straight to the playground and up on the monkey bars. It is not till now that I look back to the trees. A pack of coyotes is tearing across the field towards us. Finally, one of the imaginary games we played as children has come true. We are stranded on top of the monkey bars and the coyotes our local park ranger warned us about so many years ago have finally decided to prove themselves to be real.