Rain. It fell freely, not a single thing to interrupt its path from the sky to the grassy hill. It didn’t scream, it wasn’t stressed — it was rain, of course it didn’t — but Yazmin felt captivated by it. No-one told the rain to fall, it simply did so, and enjoyed every second until the impact with the earth. She wished to be like the rain.

“Yaz, hurry up!” the soft voice of Thalia Ernalin broke through the picking up wind, “you’re going to get drenched!”

Yazmin held out her hand. A gentle wet sting tapped on her palm. “It’s barely even raining.”

“Yeah right!” Rosie chided, pushing past her, “enjoy your cold then! I’m going under the tree!”

A strong gust of wind swirled the hill. The tapping became pounding. Oh right, she thought, perhaps I should follow them. 

“I know I’m the oldest.” Thalia grabbed her arm and walked her under the tree. “But seriously, I’m tired of being the mother!”

Yazmin apologised, leaning up against the bark of the thick tree stump. Two damp strands of hair fell into her face, she recoiled and shook her head to bat them away. Yazmin sighed, glancing up at the canopy. The yellow-green leaves sheltered them, though she couldn’t help but notice holes in the green roof.

“I swear it had more leaves last week.”

“Duh,” Rosie scoffed, “no shit Jackson.”

“It’s Jack,” he stated bluntly, leaving no room for error, “what sort of name is Jackson?”

Rosie screwed her nose up. “A good one.”

“Rosie, have you considered being a tad more kind?” Thalia squeezed water from her hair.

“I liked you before you were a teenager.”

The trio continued bickering amongst each other. A usual occurrence. Yazmin giggled to herself. She watched the branches sway. Left, then right, then left again. They blew forward, leaves escaping from the branches, then settled back into the usual rhythm. She wondered how the tree felt about this, did it disturb it? 

Yazmin brought her gaze down from the tree and to her left. There he was again. Always facing the open sky, relaxing against the tree just like she was, except more tense. His hair was scruffy and uncared for, pretty understandable for a child. How old was he? Eight? Seven? Yazmin couldn’t quite remember, the only time they crossed paths was here on this hill — and even that was only because Thalia brought him.

“Zackary, right?” she asked kindly, scooting around to his side of the tree. “Or do you prefer Zack?”

“Whatever.”

“Hm?”

“Whatever,” he shook his hands around, “I don’t care.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence. Yazmin ran her hand along the bark. Rough, jagged, dipping in and out, parts flaking under her fingers. She looked at the debris at her fingertips. So delicate. The wind could blow hard enough and it would crumble. So why didn’t it?

“How old are you?” Zack asked out of the blue, “you look like an older kid.”

“I’m twelve, I think. Is that a problem?”

He considered this. “Not yet.”

Yazmin gathered an ominous vibe from this child.

“I don’t know how to talk to people,” he said, tossing his head to the side. “Sorry I said something weird.”

“Huh? You didn’t say anything weird.”

“Really? My mother says I always do.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The rain danced harder, specks here and there caught them under the tree. Rosie remarked that Jack must have spat at her. He firmly denies it. Thalia looked at Yazmin, mouthing the words: help me.

The three of them moved further under the tree, closer to Yazmin and Zackary, no doubt to escape the rain. Rosie waved at Zack, who nervously smiled.

“Yazmin!” Thalia whined, “these two haven’t stopped annoying me.”

She laughed. “Well, you are the oldest…”

“Yeah!” Rosie chanted.

“So that means I have to deal with your annoying behaviour?”

“Yeah!” Rosie chimed again.

Thalia sighed. “But Yazmin’s only a year younger than me!”

“You’re a teenager, though,” Zack offered.

“Yeah, what’s that like?” Jack asked.

Thalia sighed again. Rosie got up and sat next to Zackary, eager to hear Thalia’s answer. She didn’t respond.

“Have you kissed any boys yet?”

“Ew!” Thalia fake gagged, “of course not, Rosie. That’s gross!”

“Ha!” She looked at Jack. “Looks like you’re out of luck Jackson.”

“My name. Isn’t. Jackson.”

“Ooo, didn’t deny you wanted to kiss her!”

“I don’t want that either!” he frantically looked around at everyone, purposely skipping Thalia. “That’s gross!”

“So why did you only mention your name then, huh?”

“Uh, priorities?”

“Right.”

“Guys,” Thalia interrupted, “can we stop?”

The two of them grumbled, then accepted defeat. Everyone sat in peace. The rain eased, winds died down. Rosie whispered something into Zackary’s ear. He laughed. A long, addictive laugh. Yazmin glanced at his face. In stark contrast to earlier, it was full of light and life, the child inside had been allowed to break free for a second. Her heart filled with butterflies, and before long, Yazmin found herself giggling. For no reason. She didn’t even know what was so funny.

Thalia beamed, her hair flowing in the wind. She looked beautiful. Yazmin wiped her eyes, giggling more and more. She smiled back at Thalia, her head flushed and her cheeks red. This feeling … Yazmin wanted more.

The laughter died down, calming with the sway of the wind. Zackary coughed, composing himself. Jack sat dumbfounded. Yazmin could tell he had many questions, so did she, but they didn’t matter, that was a happy moment — who cares why it happened?

“So,” Rosie began, Yazmin noticed her hand rested on Zackary’s shoulder, “we’re growing up.”

Everyone nodded silently.

“Well, I’m not,” Zack interjected, “you guys might, but I’m going to be this age forever.”

“Yeah right.”

“Zackary.” Thalia cast him a stern look. “We’ve talked about this. You are growing up.”

He scoffed. “Not like this, I’m not.”

“What was that?”

“Why?” he demanded, “I like being this age!”

“Everyone grows up, Zack,” Yazmin explained as gently as she could, “Whether you want to or not. It’s not something we can choose, unfortunately.”

“Yazmin’s right,” Jack added, “that’s just how life works.”

“Stupid,” the young boy moaned, “I should be able to choose.”

“I hate to disagree…” Rosie said.

“That’s a lie, you love disagreeing!”

Thalia shushed Jack.

“But when someone dies, they stop ageing.”

Everyone shot their heads at her. Rosie held up her hands in defence. “I’m just saying!”

“Yeah, well don’t,” Thalia ordered, “that’s a stupid thing to say. We’re not going to die!”

Yazmin glanced at the floor. She picked up a hardened chunk of mud and played with it in her hand, rolling it back and forth across her palm. The setting sun peaked out from behind the clouds, devouring the land in a harsh orange, followed by a wave of heat. The children strained their eyes. Zack looked towards it’s direction. Yazmin followed his gaze. The grass looked beautiful in the sun, glimmering yellow, the water from the rain reflecting the orange around the field. His gaze stopped at one spot, right before the remains of the forest — stumps, ashy branches, withering plants; Yazmin saw it too. The grass there was patchy and ghastly white. Sorrow clasped her shoulders.

“See?” Thalia asked, “the world is beautiful.”

“I guess so,” Rosie reluctantly agreed, passing her glance to Zack.

He fiddled around in the grass, pushing it out the way. Between two fingers, he held up the drooping stem of a yellow flower. With his other hand he gestured for everyone to come look. Yazmin stared over his shoulder, sadly nodding her head. He held a yellow rose. A dying yellow rose. The green in the stem slowly turning brown, petals shrivelled and looked hard to the touch.

“Then why,” Zackary asked, glumly caressing the yellow rose, “is everything else dying?”

He looked to the others, his elders, for an answer, for anything. Yazmin recognized the despair in his eyes. It lived within her too. But to see it in someone as young as Zackary was … it broke her heart.

“Well?”

They shook their heads and looked away. No-one had an answer.