Roseau

By Ashlyn Harwell

The market was booming with people; it was a Saturday. Everything was bright, flowers lined the vendors' tents, and the whole market smelled of sweet bread and salt from the nearby beach. It was a hot day, but the breeze running under the colorful tents kept everyone cool. Fresh fruit, vegetables, bread, cakes, desserts, flowers, honey, jams, seeds, clothes, bags, jewelry, soap, shoes, anything you could possibly want did the market provide. Along with the running breeze, Mary ran through the market with mischief. Hurdling over baskets of fresh strawberries and diving under tables of assorted flowers. Vendors yelled over the noise of the market to scold Mary.

"Hey!"

"Watch where you're going!"

"Get out of here!" followed her throughout the market. She finally broke free from the maze and stumbled into the alleyway of a shop.

Tomas is quick, but I am quicker, she thought. She would be laughing at him losing right now if she wasn't so out of breath. Little did she know, Tomas had actually beaten her to the alley and hid perched on the shop's awning. He jumped from the awning aiming to land beside her, but he accidentally fell on top of her. She collapsed from the weight of Tomas on her back and felt her cheek scrape across the stone road.

"I got you! I got here first!" Tomas laughed.

Mary screamed.

"SHHHHH! It couldn't have hurt that bad" Tomas lifted her up, and she met his gaze with fire.

"Why would you tackle me like that, you- you dipwad!" She pushed him hard, but he didn't flinch.

She coddled her scratched cheek with her hand.

Blood ran from a deep scratch down her neck.

"I didn't mean to, Mary. Is it bad?"

She removed her hand, and he cringed at the sight of her blood.

"I'm going home." Mary pulled her sleeve up to pat the blood from her face.

"Wait. I know a better place." Tomas grabbed Mary's arms before she could protest.

"Tomas, my face is burning; I can feel my heartbeat in my cheek; I want to go home!"

"You're a wimp!" Tomas yelled, dragging her to the front of the stone alley.

"And you're a jerk!"

Tomas just laughed. Mary really thought about protesting him and fighting harder to go home, but she let him pull her; she knew where he was going.

The siblings walked back through the busyness of the market, stepping back over crates of strawberries and giving nervous smiles to vendors who glared at them for almost knocking down their merchandise.

They returned to the bikes they had left at the front of the market before the race was declared. Mary picked up her rusted red bike. On her eighth birthday, she was gifted this bike, and after two years of constant use, it was rusty from days of riding in the rain and severely chipped from being left to bake in the hot sun. She let Tomas lead them the opposite way of the market. Their tanned skin glistened in the sun, and their brown curls waved behind them. Mary could still feel her cheek burning, but the breeze helped soothe it a little. They rode out of town and down sandy, bumpy roads. They passed children climbing up banana trees and mothers begging them to come down. They rode past colorful houses and lines of laundry hanging to dry. The tropics nurtured the big green leaves sprouting from trees that grow in random clusters, and the overflow of the ocean made streams along the road. Tomas and Mary purposefully rode through the streams so water could splash on their legs and cool them. Vendors were set up on the sides of the makeshift roads calling out prices for watermelon and coconuts, and their dogs lay tiredly in the shade of their tents. They were almost there, had only one more hill to ride down.

"Here we are, Mary!"

I knew it. Mary thought.

The beach, but specifically their family's favorite spot. Tomas and Mary's father taught them how to surf at this spot. Their mother would bring them and hold them in the saltwater to heal their wounds. They hurriedly tied up their bikes, excited to get in the water, careful not to touch the hot bike stand.

They ran. Kicking off their flip-flops and running into the warm Atlantic waters. When they were waist-deep, Tomas cupped his hands in the water and poured it on Mary's scratched cheek. She flinched and squeaked,

"Ouch!" but when he continued cupping and pouring the water, the pain went away, and it became soothing for her cheek.

"Thanks, Tomas." She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. Not wanting to admit he felt bad for scraping her cheek or helping her, he said,

"Aww, does my baby sister's cheeky feel better?" He pouted his lips, and she splashed him.

"You're a dipwad!" she proclaimed.

"What does that even mean!" Tomas picked her up from behind, lifting her up and throwing her down in the water.

Mary came up laughing and tried to dunk him next. Her efforts were useless against her growing brother, so splashing him had to suffice.

After Mary splashed him to surrender, they lay on their back, floating in the water.

"What actually is a dipwad?"

"I have no idea; I just know you are one."