Walking in a line, she looked from ground to sky. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting short shadows along her path. It was a short trail.

"Always here, never there," she said with a sigh.

Turning, she headed back the way she had come. The cement, warm on her feet, weeds in the cracks wilting as she stepped on them.

"Step on a crack, break your momma's back. Step on a line, break your momma's spine." She stepped long to land on another weed.

The brick wall came up sooner than aniticipated and she bumped into it. Shaking her head, rubbing her arms, she turned again to make the same course. She reached the fence after only a few paces.

"Retard!" she heard through the fence. "Moron."

She stuck out her tongue, turning again. "I'm rubber, you're glue. It bounces off me and sticks to you." She held her hands over her ears, making her voice sound louder.

At the wall, she started to cry. Standing there, she hit her head against the bricks. It hurt so good, she did it again. Then again, because it made the ugly words yelled at her from the border of the yard, turn to laughter. Laughter was good for your soul, or so she'd been told.

Her head hurt, and wiping her itchy cheek, she stuck her hand in her mouth. "Gross," she said, tasting blood.

Her mom came, yelled at them, and hugged her.

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