grass, a story

She tied knots out of grass, connecting blade after green blade. She wanted to make a dress, but the grass kept breaking. She wanted to make a dress because soon she would not have access to her dresser drawers. Soon her parents would be gone, and with them their money, so she wouldn’t be able to buy anything new. And everything old would have been destroyed in the fire, and the only way, the only possible way, she would be able to stay at her school and not have to move again, and not become part of the system and the state, and not be raised by a foster family with too many kids and too many chores and too many rules and too many mean looks would be to convince everyone: her teachers, her friends, herself that she could take care of herself. She was fine staying in the woods, foraging for food, sleeping on her pale blue Minnie Mouse sweatshirt. It said Orlando, Florida on it. That implied she was traveled. A girl who had been on vacation was a girl taken care of indeed! Her scam at sleepovers was so believable, in fact, that friends’ parents didn’t bother with questions about her home or her lack of socks. Everyone was merely concerned with having a grass garment of their own. She would go into business and make her own money. All of her needs would be met by selling grass dresses and skirts, grass “sweaters” and headbands, pants made from grass and purses. Soon, the whole neighborhood would be wearing grass in place of clothing. Then she would never be caught. Ever. Then, everyone in the town would look the same. Any lingering questions would be swept away with the new phenomenon. She was a visionary. A visionary who couldn’t tie together more than three blades of grass.