A Hollow Fence

Sun burnt ears poked out from under weathered baseball caps.  The sun seemed to pulsate down on the young boy and girl, drying the mud that covered three quarters of their body.  They sat on the ground, backs against a white metal picket fence, sharp chips of mulch poking uncomfortably through their shorts. Small flies buzzed around what moisture was left on their legs and crawled over the blonde hairs sticking out through patches of already dry dirt. It had been the boy’s fault.  Now they just had to sit and wait in the sun and the dirt with the mulch jabbing their legs and the fence burning their back.

The white metal fence was old, like the rest of the house and the cracked pool it enclosed.  Its hollow metal panels were covered in enamel that had been peeling off for as long as the girl could remember. Only three months ago they had painted over it with bright white paint. Now as she ran her finger over a panel, the paint rubbed off like a sunburn, revealing enamel and rusted metal underneath.

She rested her head back against the fence, tilting her cap so that it barely blocked the yellow ball in the sky.  She knew it was bad to look into the sun and she wondered if the boy remembered that too. She almost reminded him, but she was still mad. Bored, she began to focus her eyes on the thin threads that dangled below the brim of her hat. Loosing interest in its frayed edge, she began to cross her eyes at the blue weave that covered the underside of the brim, bringing the fraying threads on the brim in and out of focus. She blew up towards the threads so that they moved.

“What are you doing?”

It was a reasonable question.  She didn’t answer. Instead she pulled the hat down so she could see only their legs and the mulched ground around them and the grass a few feet beyond.

The air was heavy and dry and thick and the weight of it seemed to build up on the brim of her hat, dragging her head down.  Even the flies that buzzed around their legs seemed to get pulled down by the air, never climbing more than a few feet above the ground.  She tilted her head slightly so she couldn’t see the boy’s skinny legs. Behind them, she could hear the hose running into the pool, making up for the water the hot air was always sucking up and never returning.

A slinky green anole emerged slowly from the browning grass onto the mulch.  Belly low to the ground, it moved easily, gliding over the mulch for a few inches and then stopping to bob up and down. When it was still, it almost looked fake, its green skin too bright, too perfect to naturally exist on the ugly brown wood chips. The lizard moved again, gliding, its throat expanding, red and scaly and beautiful. The lizard was a boy. Remembering another boy, the one by her side, she jerked her head, looking to the length of the ugly white painted, yellow enameled, and rusting metal fence.  A few feet down, the green of the hose that threaded through the fence to the pool reminded her of the lizard. When she looked back, the green anole was gone.

Beside her, she felt the boy squirm, trying to find a more comfortable way to lean against the fence. The girl plucked a piece of mulch from the vast array around her and started to peel it apart with her fingernails, setting the fibers in a line along her leg.  The boy shifted, bumping the fence accidentally. She slipped, a sliver of wood jamming up under her nail.

Tears welling in her eyes, she tossed the mulch away, scrunched her eyes shut, and hit her head back against the fence. The fence shuddered, jostling the boy and sending white chips of paint fluttering down on her hat. The tremor traveled down the length of the fence, rattling the gate and provoking a delayed stream of wasps to trickle lazily from inside one of the rusted out fence posts. She kept her head back and eyes closed, tipping her hat up and feeling the sun beating directly on her face.

The boy sat motionless as the wasps hummed around their post, for the first time since they sat down, the shadow of a smile on his face. Casually, he reached a hand out and tapped the fence gently. Another wasp crawled from its hole.

“Stop”.

Ignoring the girl, he tapped the fence a little harder- a wasp flew out this time.

“Stop”.

This time he hit the fence, sending a quick spasm down its length- three more wasps.

“STOP”.

Shooting a sideways glance at the girl, the boy rotated his whole body around, grabbed the fence with both hands and shook.

“I said, STOP”. The girl’s eyes shot open to see the old pool gate fly open, and slam back against the rusted out post.  A dozen wasps streaked out of the hole, joining the few that had already been provoked into the open. Their swarm expanded, traveling down the length of the fence, weaving angrily between the panels.

The boy jumped to his feet, whacking the fence again with his elbow, awakening more wasps and sending another volt of energy through those already in the air. Momentarily forgetting the wasps, the boy started shuffling in a small circle, half bent over in a combined fit of laughter and whimpering. Seeming to sense the movement, half of the wasps separated themselves from the cloud.

Still cradling his arm, the boy started yelling as the wasps began to drone around his head. The girl dove along the length of the fence, turned and fired.  She pummeled the boy’s head and body with water. The cold spray cut through the heavy air until the only humming left came from the water gushing out of the hose.
Exhausted, the boy sat down and slumped against the fence.  Observing thing, the girl picked up the hat that had been sprayed off and put it on his head so only his sun burnt ears poked out from underneath. Laughing, his sister sat down, pulling her own hat low over her eyes.

“I’m still mad at you”.