Chapter 2 — The Girl on the Other Swing

She sat on the swing beside mine without asking.

For a while, neither of us said anything.

I appreciated that.

Adults always wanted explanations. Friends wanted to know what happened. She simply pushed herself backward, lifted her feet, and swung forward.

“You come here a lot?” she asked.

“Sometimes.”

“That means no.”

I looked at her.

“How did you get that from sometimes?”

“People say sometimes when they don't want to say no.”

“Then why ask?”

“To see if you lie.”

She smiled sweetly, as though she had not just accused a stranger of dishonesty.

“You’re weird.”

“You blamed your tears on aggressive dust.”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Right.”

The chains squeaked in alternating rhythm.

After a few minutes, she pointed toward the slide. “Race you.”

“Race me where?”

“To the top.”

“That isn’t a race.”

“Scared?”

I stood immediately.

“Move.”

That was how it started.

There was no promise to meet again the next day. No dramatic declaration that we were friends now.

But the next afternoon, she was there.

And the afternoon after that, I was there first.

Soon, meeting at the playground became something neither of us needed to arrange.

Some days, one of us arrived before the other.

She would usually be on the swing when I came through the gate, moving slowly as though she had been there forever.

When I arrived first, I pretended I hadn't been waiting.

She never believed me.

“You're late.”

“You don't know when I got here.”

“Exactly. So you're late.”

“That's not how time works.”

“It is now.”

We invented games when the old ones became boring. We argued over rules we had invented ourselves. Sometimes we bought cheap snacks and divided them unfairly.

Usually in her favor.

According to her, this was because she was smaller.

According to me, that was theft.

Sometimes she sang whatever song she had heard recently, and I complained that she repeated the same part too many times. 104Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVaYLISzVkh

“Then give me another song,” she said one afternoon.

“Why me?”

“Because you complain like a music teacher.”

“I don't know any other songs.”

“Liar.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

She narrowed her eyes.

I looked away.

“There.”

“What?”

“You did it.”

“Did what?”

“That face.”

“What face?”

“The one you make when you're hiding something.”

“We've known each other for, what, a few weeks? You don't know my faces.”

“I know that one.”

“Apparently you know everything.”

She smiled.

“Not everything. That's why I'm asking.”

...

Annoying.

Worse, she wasn't wrong.

“Sometimes...” I started.

She immediately leaned closer.

I regretted speaking.

“Sometimes what?”

“I make melodies.”

Her expression changed instantly.

“You write songs?”

“No.”

“But you just said—”

“Melodies. Just little ones.”

“What's the difference?”

“Songs have words.”

“Then we'll add words.”

I stared at her.

“That's not how it works.”

“Why not?”

“Because...”

I paused.

Actually, I had no idea.

“Because it doesn't.”

She laughed.

“That's a terrible explanation.”

“It's the only one you're getting.”

“Sing one.”

“No.”

“Hum one.”

“Also no.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“You won't stop asking, will you?”

“No.”

At least she was honest.

“You still haven’t said no this time.”

I groaned.

Then, very quietly, I hummed four notes.

She stopped swinging.

I hummed the next few.

When I finished, she was smiling.

“Again.”

“That was it.”

“Then make more.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“How does it work?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

She laughed. “So you don’t know either.”

I hated that she was right.

But that afternoon, we added another line.

Then another.

She tried words over the melody. I rejected most of them.

She rejected most of mine.

“That doesn't even rhyme.”

“It doesn't have to.”

“Songs rhyme.”

“Not all of them.”

“Ours does.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

Somehow, she had appointed herself lyricist.

Somehow, I had allowed it.

By sunset, we had something resembling the beginning of a song.

It was terrible. 104Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLiKzdJi1ID

We loved it.

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