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Early Saturday morning Sarah and Sylvia get together to work out.

Sorry, let me reprhase.


The weather looks fine.

Sarah finishes her short jog and now stretches out on some mats thrown down in her garage while she waits for Sylvia.  The predawn air is cold and she can see her breath steaming.  Dressed in a tshirt, orange sleeveless hoodie and some yellow green striped running pants she is a beacon and warning to any cars with any still sleepy drivers in the early morning. 

Not too loud strains of Here it Goes Again by OK GO are coming from the radio on the workbench against the wall. 

Sylvia's a little late.  Whatever she did the previous night must have been pretty taxing because, when she arrives, she has that muzzy, rumpled Saturday morning look, but regardless, she seems happy to be there, smiling as she trots up to Sarah's garage in standard-issue UC Berkeley sweats.  "Hey, sorry I'm late."  Almost automatically, she starts moving, kind of jogging and bopping in place to the beat.  "I hope we're doing the bunny hill today."

Sarah looks up from stretching a hamstring and sees a rumpled, smiling Sylvia.  "Huh?  Bunny Hill?  Oh!  Did you have a late night last night or something?  We can reschedule the run and just do some limbering stuff and maybe just jog a few blocks if you like?" 

Sylvia shakes her head.  "I'm okay.  Just, uh, didn't get my eight hours in or something.  But I'm waking up.  I'm good to go!"  Those last two sentences come out almost like cheers, that kind of rhythmic chant as if she's rallying her brain to alertness.  "You'll have to show me how it's done.  I've, like, messed around on playgrounds before but never seriously done, like, parkour."  That Sylvia even knows what parkour is is a testament to the meme contagion of the Internet.  Or maybe, in San Francisco, crossing the street at rush hour is parkour.

"Well I'm no expert... I've never taken a class though finding out if there is an actual instructor somewhere nearby might be fun.  Lately I've just been using my gymnastic skills when I'm out jogging or running just to chip some of the rust off and I noticed that some of the stuff I do is kind of like parkour.  It's fun using the tumbles and flips we've learned mixed with the balance and reflexes for something other than prancing around a padded floor for judges.  I've always loved the movement of gymnastics but I could care less for the competitions I used to get dragged to.  Probably why I never did well at them.  That and the whole sticking the landing is stupid because it forces your body to take all the force of your fall instead of letting it flow out into the floor or into a tumble.  I twisted my ankles at least a dozen times with that nonsense.  Oh and don't forget to smile! Blah."

Sarah has no problem expressing her views on organized sports. 

"I'll shut up before I start really ranting.  I like the idea of moving fluidly through the environment, whatever it is.  Sort of gliding over, around, under or through anything you come across.  Also it's good for evading stuff as well or getting to places you normally can't.  I'm still working on that stuff.  Free running is more about style and parkour is more straight up useful skills.  Either way it's great to bounce around places instead of sticking to the path.  We can start pretty easy and fun just by running and moving over stationary objects.  No big falls or tumbles just going over walls, benches, cars, or whatever like you were just doing some vaults off the horse.  I didn't remember to tell you to wear any protective stuff so I wont try anything stupid either.  Nothing worse than getting road burn all over your legs or arms ... or face.. especially with the dance coming up."  

Sylvia's thinking back to her gymnastic experiences.  "I kinda sucked, too," she admits, "but I liked competition 'cause I guess there's nothing like that moment at the end of a solid routine when you know you did everything right.  Right place, right time, right thought, right action."


Sylvia's expression twitches guilty for an instant, just around the edges.  "Yeah, sure," she mumbles.  Then she's back.  "If I do wind up with a black eye and puffy lip, swear to me you won't tell anyone I did it to myself.  I'll make something up about how I stopped international terrorists from attacking a children's hospital or something.  It'll help my street cred with the paranormal set."

Sarah snickers.  "I'll swear I saw the whole thing.  International terrorists, suicide bombers, sharks with lasers... and you fought them all off.  Very brave and selfless of you."

Sarah crosses one leg over the other bent at the knee and twists in the other direction.  "So whats going on in your world lately?  Anything good that doesn't involve peril and mayhem?"

Sylvia avoids that question for a few seconds by bracing herself against the garage wall and doing some running stretches.  "Good?"  She really has to think about that.  "My mom is putting my Halloween costume together.  How're you doing on that?  I heard some rumor you and Colin were going to do something cute together."

"Yeah, Colin wanted to do a couple or complimentary costume thing.  I just don't know what to go as.  Most couple costumes are too lame.  But complimentary.. I don't know.. cheese and crackers?  french fries and caramel sauce?  Maybe I should have had more breakfast.  I had an idea but it was too complicated.  A costume you have to explain isn't a good one.  Maybe samurai and geisha?  What do you think?  Would Colin look good in that white makeup?"  She grins, stands up and stretches straight up and then touches her toes. 

Sylvia imagines.  But it doesn't do anything for her.  Colin is just . . . Colin.  "With the top knot and the kimono?  I guess.  Just warn him to wear some long underwear.  Kimonos are drafty."

She pauses and suddenly wants to ask a nosy question.  "Hey, are you totally comfortable with the Colin thing?"  That's the initial foray, to see how Sarah feels about talking about it.

Sarah quirks an eyebrow at Sylvia.  "Comfortable with the Colin thing?  Like am I happy with him?  Yeah.  I'm happy.  He's different, but I like that.  Why do you ask?"

Here's the point at which tact wars with curiosity.  Tact wages a good defense, but curiosity has a long history of wins on its side.  "He's, um. . . .  He's kind of intense.  You know?  Like not just hearts-and-flowers intense but like Romeo and Juliet intense.  Cio-Cio-San intense.  Till-death-do-us-part intense. . . ."  Sylvia could go on.  Sarah should probably stop her once she gets what Sylvia's saying.

Sarah nods, understanding.  "Ohhhh that thing.  Yeah."  She pauses and thinks about that.  "Yeah.  But I mean it's ninth grade right?  He's my first boyfriend.  We can't be that serious.  Right?"

Sylvia looks at Sarah like they must be seeing in different spectrums.  "Uh.  Yeah.  Don't tell Colin that."  She pauses.  She's not trying to do Sarah and Colin any damage, but some things are just so sordid (from a fourteen-year-old's perspective) that they have to be exposed.  It's journalistic integrity or something.  "Have you seen the inside of his locker?  With all the pictures?  Of you?  I think he's actually got one of your cookies in there, from like two weeks ago."

Maybe he does, and maybe he doesn't.  Sylvia didn't take too close a look at that Ziploc.

Sarah gives Sylvia huge eyes. "You're not serious are you?  Oh my gosh.  Well the pictures are cool.  I mean, he's a photographer.  It's what he does.  And I'm his girlfriend so by default his favorite subject."  Except maybe for Sammy...  "I can't explain the cookie.  Maybe he wasn't hungry.  It happens.  Have you ever seen my locker.  I've got stuff from the first day of school in there and it's not pretty.  I'm probably going to leave a warning note for the next poor kid to inherit my locker.  It may even get sealed up by the CDC or something."

She shrugs, "So he's into me.  That's not a bad thing right?  He's a teenage guy.  You're reading too much into it.  He's a really nice guy.  Honestly that's my worry.  He's so nice.  I'm ... not so nice?  I worry about that.  He really needs someone who can make all the horrible things he sees just fade into the background and I don't know if I'm that person.  If he needs someone to make someone pay..that I could do.  I'm pretty mellow.  But if you hurt someone I care for... your going to pay.  Only problem with my policy is that all the people I care about have a tendency to get in each others faces.  So I'm just kind of sitting on my hands hoping everything works out."

"Get Donnie to send Pip in," Sylvia jokes.  The little dragon could probably make good use of a September-pull-date peanut butter sandwich.


Sylvia grimaces.  "You're talking about the Donnie-Megan thing?  Or the Sammy-Megan thing?  Or the Kel-Donnie thing?  I like to think we're okay until someone starts trying to kill us.  Some of us get a little grumpy about that."

Sarah nods sagely, "Yeah... getting killed would suck.  But I'd prefer it if every time we got together someone wasn't bitching."  She grins at Sylvia, "Oh and don't forget about the Sylvia - Colin thing."

"You ready to hit the trail?  There's a line of benches, and fences between us and the end of the line."

Sylvia makes a face, but that's all.  She, Colin, and Kel are like id, ego, and superego, but we leave who's who to the reader's discretion.  Whatever the analysis, she and Colin are in perpetual wary alliance.  Can't live with 'im.  Can't live without 'im.


"Sure thing," Sylvia says, bouncing a couple of times on the toes of her running shoes.  "Let's fly."

"Keep up if you can baby."  Sarah tumbles out the door and follows it up with a double backflip down the street before turning and running.