As always, feed back from anyone is helpful.  I probably need to do *at least* 1 more draft on this story, maybe 100 more drafts, before I actually send it to a magazine. 

Walls of Burger King

    The stench of smoke and beef grease gnawed at Tony's temples as he

walked towards the double glass doors of the Burger King on Union Street.  He'd

stopped taking aspirin for the mild headaches  months ago because pain killers

never worked; instead he accepted that the problem was a psychological one. 

Inside, the dim lights glazed over the plastic tables and chairs, washing

everything in timid, greasy light.  He checked the time on an empty cash

register -- noticing out of the corner of his eye the first shift drive thru

worker slipping her head set belt off of her waist as she prepared to dump it on

her replacement. 

    From behind he heard, “Tony.  Office.”

    Recognizing the general manager's voice, Tony slapped the beat-up, cream

colored cash register and punched in his code to clock in.  The soles of his

sneakers chaffed the grease slicked orange tiles as he walked through the

kitchen and back to the closet called office on his right.  He shut the door and

leaned against the particle board cabinet with crossed arms.

    “We have a problem.”  Mike, the new GM, slid his glasses up his beak-

like nose with one hand and waved a correction slip with the other hand.

    Tony's eyes gleamed like two black disks of polished onyx under the brim

of his Burger King cap.  “We scrubbed this place from top to bottom.  I don't

know what you could've found wrong.”

    “Well, Tony, there were three trays left in the dinning room--”

    “Three trays?  You're writing us up for that?”

    Mike fidgeted in his seat, the fabric of his pants squeaking against the

fake leather of his new office chair.  “No, no.  There was a wet, greasy towel

left out.  That's a health violation.”

    “I cleaned the floors.  Didn't use a towel.”

    “Now Tony, we're a team.  It's everybody's responsibility to maintain

the store.  Furthermore, it took an hour for you to get out last night when you

know you only have 30minutes.”

    “It took an hour because you gave us a sheet full of meaningless tasks

to do on a Saturday night.”  Tony gestured to the board hanging beside the

manager's head -- the list ,stuck to the board by a white push pin, had every

item crossed out with thick black sharpie marker.

    “No excuses, and your attitude won't help. I'm only writing you up this

time.  Next time it'll be suspension.  Oh, and one more thing, Joan's being

demoted.”

    “That's bullshit.”  Tony stomped towards the door.

    Mike smiled, trying to look professional and failing.  “Don't forget to

sign this.”

    Tony starred at the paper and considered ripping it in half.  Thoughts

about his car insurance and rent changed his mind.  Tony grabbed the Bic pen out

of Mike's sweat slimed palm and scratched a signature on it.  Mike handed him

the yellow carbon copy; Tony crumbled the paper into a ball, left the office,

and tossed the yellow wad into the trash can by the hand washing station.

    Ruth walked by and Tony tried to stop her, but before he could Mike

beckoned her to the office.  Tony leaned against the wall for a few seconds

where the door was shut and listened to the muffled protests.  The day crew

scuttled around the sesame seed infested kitchen preparing Whoopers and stealing

brief glances at the office door.

    The door swung open and banged against the wall as Ruth shouted.  “The

hell I will!”  She slammed the door shut.  Red braid swinging behind her,

freckles lost under a blush of anger.  She marched out the back steal door. 

Tony followed her, snatching a cigaret out of his coat pocket and offered it to

her.  She pushed it away and faced the wall, and screamed.

    “What good will that do?”  Tony tucked the cigaret between his full lips

and incinerated the tip with his purple plastic lighter. 

    “It worked on Jericho.”  She pressed her forehead against the sandstone

brick and pounded the wall with her small white fists.

    “Jericho, from the Bible?  Tony asked.

    “Yeah.  My grandpa use to read me stories out of the Bible all the

time.”  she gave Tony a humorless laugh.

    Tony laughed with her.  “Mine too, once he told me in Africa, if a tree

was too large to chop down with an ax they'd scream at it and a few days later

it would die.”

    Ruth shook her head side to side; her forehead still pressed against the

wall.  “We don't have a few days, Tony, this is it for us.  What he did to Joan,

three trays and a towel?  What bull shit.  C'mon, let's get out of here.” 

    “I do feel sorry for Joan.”  Tony signed.  “But shouldn't we look for

another job before we quit?”

    “You going back in there?”  Ruth asked, her blue eyes shocked.  “Not me.

 I'm tired of all these middle aged alcoholics telling me how to do their job

for them.”

    Tony blew smoke out of his mouth.  “We got bills, Ruth.”

    “There was mana in the desert.  God didn't let his people starve in the

wilderness.”

    “But he sure made them walk and sleep in the dirt.”  Tony shrugged. 

“Besides, do you really think screaming at this place will tear down solid brick

walls?”

    Ruth crossed her arms over her breasts.  Her mouth twisted into a

stubborn knot Tony knew well.  “It worked on Jericho.”  She repeated.
 
    Tony pointed behind them.  “But to get here from Russellville we crossed

the Arkansas River, not the River Jordan.  Just sign the damn write up and when

we get off work, I'll go with you to get a paper and we can look for jobs at my

place.” 

    Mike stepped outside.  Tony flicked the cigarette towards the metallic

green dumpster.

    He tapped his watch.  “It's past four o'clock, you both need to get to

your stations.  Ruth sign the slip and take drive-thru or go home.”

    “I'd rather walk and eat mana then stay here and eat Whoopers.”  With a

single fingered salute, Ruth marched to her white, '84 Buick Sky Hawk. 

    “I'll call you later, Ruth!”  Tony called to her back, he tugged his cap

lower on his face, jabbed both hands into his pockets, and walked to the

stainless steel kitchen counters.  Tony imagined the Jews marching to Jericho,

their skin dark from forty years of marching in the desert.  He lined papers and

sandwiches on the counter, his body animated with quick, taunt movements.  He

flipped the ketchup bottle in the air and caught it upside down.  Using it to

swirl three rings of ketchup on each beef patty and flipping it back into place 

– slamming it down on the counter. 

    “There's gonna be changes around here.”  Mike trotted up front to take

the drive-thru.  He had to suck in his gut to wrap the head set's belt around

his middle aged waist.  “Even if I have to close a few night to straighten you

guys out.

    Tony raised a thick, black eyebrow.  The thought struck him that today

was Joan's day off.  She didn't know that she might not be able to afford day

care for her two-year-old on her next paycheck because of three trays and a

soggy towel. 

    Mike started clapping his hands for attention.  “Alright crew.  Tony,

Jessica, tuck in your shirts.  Al, where's your hat?”

    “Never got one.”  Al answered honestly.
 
    “Get one out of the office.”  The general manager adjusted the black

drive-thru belt strap around his full gut. At the same time he worked his mouth

under his greasy mustache making it dance.  “ You all just need to learn how to

use your time wisely.  No more standing around during down time  Tony, take the

down the vents and wash them.  If you have time to lean, you have time to

clean.”  A proud smile stretched on Mike's face after he shared the rhyme.

    Tony rested his hands on the stainless steel counter, ducking slightly

to glare at Mike below the heat belt full of Whoopers.  “Last week you made us

sign a note saying not to take the vents down before close.  It's why we got out

so late last night.  Now you want them down before everyone comes in after

church?”

    Mike's eyes, magnified by his glasses, blinked for a moment.  Tony could

see the purple vein swell around Mike's neck and forehead.  “Tony, I believe I

just told you to do something.”

    Tony shook his head no.  “It's Sunday.  We're going to get slammed. 

Give me something else to do.  Why don't I clean the kitchen base boards?”
 
    The more Tony spoke, the darker red-violet Mike's face turned.  “You're

about to get suspended for you disrespect for authority!”

    Tony straightened himself up, the heat lamp above the sandwiches cut his

view of the general manager in half, but he could still see the vibrant color of

Mike's angry face.  Tony pointed at the broiler behind him and the smoke rising

into a large steel hood which housed a series of metal vent.  “I'm not taking

them down.  You can't change the rules to your whims.  It's not right”

    “I'm not asking you again—”  A ding announced a car in the drive thru

and Mike's tone transformed mid sentence, “—Welcome to Burger King would you

like to try one of our combo meals tonight?” 

    Tony herd the muffled static from the headset and the register's chirps

as Mike typed the order into the register.  Al walked up to Tony, strands and

long sandy hair poked out at odd angles from his new hat.  He leaned forward on

the counter.  “You trying to piss off the new GM on purpose or what?”

    Tony crossed his arms.  “I'm not letting this asshole use me for a power

trip.” 

    Al shook his head.  “Dude, do not get fired tonight.  I have a party to

go to and I don't want to close.”

    “How the hell are you going to a party on a Sunday night?”

    Al snickered.  “One night's as good as another for a party, man.”
 
    The Monitor above Tony's head lit up with the new order.  Tony made two

more sandwiches and Al pretended to help by wiping the same foot of counter with

a wet towel.  “Besides.  Don't you have bills and shit?”

    Tony snorted.  “Yeah, not all of us can be 25, live with our mom, and

party on Sunday night because they use most of their paycheck for weed.”

    “It is the life.”  Al laughed.  “You can make fun of me living with my

mama if you want, but she does my laundry and pays for cable.  I'm not ashamed.”

 
    “You wouldn't be.”  Jessica appeared in the space between the heat lamps

for the food and she scooped french fries into paper boxes and sacked the order

and handed it to Mike.  A chime played since they finished the order in less

then 3 minuets. 

    Mike wiped sweat onto his pant legs.  “Tony, weren't you about to take

down the vents?”

    Tony smiled.  “I'd love to, but last week you made us sign a note saying

we wouldn't take them down before close.  I'd hate to go against you're orders,

sir.”

    Mike nodded his head, pudgy hands on his hips.  “Alright.  I understand.

 You're testing the new management to see what you can get away with.  So what I

can do is this . . .”  He wobbled out of his headset strap and handed it to

Jessica.  “Jessica, watch drive-thru.  Tony, let's go back into the office.  I'm

going to fill out another right up, only this one will be a three day suspension

for attitude and not following orders.”

    “But I am following orders.  I signed a note that ordered me not to take

down the vents until after close.”  Tony laughed, shaking his head an leaning

against the burger board.  A voice in the back of his mind nagged him about a

list of bills his check barely covered each week, but Ruth's stronger voice

echoed in his head mana in the desert.

    “Do you think this is funny?”  Mike challenged.  “There's plenty of

people that could use a job right now.  And I think three days off without pay

is just what you need to remember that.  You can come back when you value you're

job.” 

    Tony stood tall, removing his hat and tossing it into the plastic tub of

pale ice burg lettuce.  “This place doesn't have three days.  I'm going to help

Ruth.” 

    Mike's forehead vain reappeared when he saw the hat in the lettuce. 

“That's a health violation!”

    Tony ignored him and walked past the four friers and to the front

counter, opening the “workers only” door and shutting it behind him without

clocking out. 

    “Where are you going?”  Mike's thin lips twisted into a confused

pretzel.  “You're suspension doesn't start until tomorrow.  And I haven't filed

the paper work yet.” 

    He didn't answer.  Instead he walked faster towards the double glass

doors, by the time he reached them he was at a jog.  The mild B.K. Headache he'd

had for the last two years vanished as he opened the doors and a puff of fresh

air hit his face.  Tony stripped off his shirt and stuffed it into the trashcan

on his way out.  Full sprint, his feet pounded against the pavement as he ran

towards his car.  Outside, cars clustered and waited on Union St. as drivers

blared their horns at a Chevy Silverado sitting at a green traffic light.  With

smoke in the air from the broiler and the sound of a dozen horns rising up to

the heavens, Tony curved around the building and gave a great shout. 

Nichole's Story


   
    Nichole refused to open her eyes -- despite the dusty, afternoon sunlight squeezing through the blinds and slapping her in the face while the smell of mildewed cloths sneered in her nostrils.  Defeated, she gazed lethargically at the alarm clock for the sixth time, 2:36.  Sucking in a shallow breath, Nichole pushed herself up above the tangle of stained, pink flowered sheets and popped her feet onto the thread-bare, brown carpet.  Her hand crept up to her brow; she smeared the sweat off her forehead and scratched her scalp hidden under a deranged halo of black curls.

    “I miss California’s ocean breeze.”  She muttered as she dug through one
of the pile of clothes spilling from the red plastic hamper.  After doing a
sniff-test, Nichole slipped on a hunter-green tank top and a pair of dark denim
shorts.  She held her breath as she opened her bedroom door that led into the
hallway and scowled at the heat.  Halfway down the hall, to her right, hung the
sea-foam-colored blanket that separated the welting, bright side of the
apartment in which Nichole and her sister, Lizzy found sanctuary, and the cool,
dark living room and kitchen where her mother slept on the sofa.  Nichole paused
a moment before taking the three steps down the hall and pushing the make-do
curtain aside.  Cold chilled the sweat covering her body.  Black swallowed her
eyes and she blinked until her vision recovered.  The small window AC unit
whirred and stirred icy air throughout the front half of the apartment.

    Her six-year-old sister, Lizzy, sat cross-legged on the carpet, her eyes
locked on the TV.  Bugs Bunny glowed on the the television screen as he forced a
big, popping smooch on Elmer Fudd's lips.  Nichole's eyes shifted to the sunken,
vacant sofa cushions.  “Did mom go to work?”

    “I think so.  She put her face on today.”

    Nichole let out the breath cramped inside her lungs.  “Are you hungry?”

    Lizzy shrugged.  “There's nothing to eat.”

    “I'll find something.”

    Her sister shook her head no, eyes still trained on the cartoons.  “No,
you won't.”

    Fourteen-year-old Nichole wandered to the fridge.  Inside, the white
light glared over the empty racks, magnifying the fridge's emptiness.  “If mom
could keep a job longer than a month we wouldn't have this problem, and grandma
could retire instead of paying our rent.”
 
    “Don't worry.”  Lizzy called back from the living room.  “It's the 29th.
 We'll go shopping in a few days.”
 
    “Still, if mom could keep a job.”  Nichole emptied out the refrigerator
and placed its three items on the yellow, kool-aid stained counter.

    “I think she likes this job.  Maybe she'll keep it.”

    Nichole snorted at her younger sister's optimism.  “Yeah, and maybe
fairy-tales really happen.”  A glance over to Lizzy reminded Nichole of her
sister's age.  The ice crusted hardness in her eyes melted into sorrowful,
bottle green pools and she muttered for Lizzy's sake.  “But maybe she'll keep
this job.”  Nichole dug into the Wonder bread sack and fished out the last,
crumb-dusted slices of bread.  She smeared mayo on one slice and topped it with
a piece of American cheese, then covered it with the other piece of bread. 
Afterward, she took the heel and made half a sandwich, tossing the plastic mayo
jar back into the fridge.  It rolled on its side, the blue lid lulling from side
to side next to a expired box of baking soda; Nichole ignored the half empty
mayo and kicked the fridge shut with the heal of her foot.
 
    She munched on her half sandwich as her vacant eyes glazed inside the
cupboards.  Canned green beans, canned peas, and canned corn, the leftovers from
last week's food box.  Nichole grabbed the last can of corn and a clean pot. 
The green beans and peas would remain in the cupboard, even tomorrow when
nothing else remained.  Instead, the girls would sleep and preoccupy their minds
with TV until the first of the month came with its government-rationed envelope
of salvation in the form of a booklet of bright colored food stamps that
reminded Nichole of monopoly money.  Then they could walk down to the AM PM and
feast on hotdogs and Doritos until their mother found time to go grocery
shopping.

    Nichole dumped half of the luke-warm corn onto a plate with the other
sandwich and handed it to Lizzy.

    “Thanks.”  Lizzy accepted the plate without enthusiasm.  She stared at
her afternoon breakfast and sighed before she began to eat.  Nichole copied her
sister with her own bowl of corn.  The girls watched TV until 4:30 when Linda,
an excited, lanky, woman burst through the door.  “Mommy's home!”

    “Hi Mom.”  Lizzy scrambled to her feet and hugged one of her mom's faded
jean legs.

    “You're excited.”  Nichole starred at the woman that had Nichole's black
curls and Lizzy's dusty-gray eyes.

    “I got asked out on a date tonight.  You girls wanna help me pick out my
clothes?”

    “I'll do it!”  Lizzy ran through the blanket-made-heat-barrier and into
Nichole's room where her, Linda, and Nichole's clothes lay entangled.

    “Don't you have to work tomorrow?”  Nichole tried to sound casual but
her words felt tight in her throat.

    A shadow set over Linda's skull-framed face.  The monsoon eyes flickered
with lighting.  “I'm a big girl, Nichole.  Can't I go out and have fun for one
night?”

    “Sure.”  Nichole slipped in as quick as she could, trying to sooth her
mother.

    “Y'know, I'm so sick of you nagging me every night.  I'm the adult –
you're the child.  You sleep all day and watch TV while I work my ass off to
support you--”

    Nichole held her hands up in front of her as if to ward away the
lecture.  “I know, Mom.  I'm sorry.”

    “No, you don't know.  When do I ever get to relax?  When do I ever have
a night off?  Don't worry.  I'll go to work like a good little girl tomorrow. 
'Cause I have to be the good mommy that never needs a goddamn life of her own!”

    Nichole's jaw clenched and her hands balled into pale fists, but she
kept her head low to hide her anger from Lisa.

    “If you don't like that I'm trying to have a life fine, but I'll be
damned if you're gonna ruin this chance between me and Rick.  Go to your room
and stay there for the rest of the night!”

    Nichole bit her tongue until the faint iron taste flooded her mouth. 
She spun around and marched to her room, throwing herself onto her bed.

    “Watch your attitude or I'll slap it right outta your smart ass!”  Linda
followed her into the room.

    Lizzy stood with two dresses and a blouse in her arms.  She offered the
cloths like a savage trying to appease an angry goddess with gifts.

    “Come on, Lizzy.”  She ripped the clothes from the child's arms and
stomped into the bathroom to the left of the hallway.  “You stay in your room,
too.  I don't want you pestering Rick and making him hate me.”

    When Nichole heard the statement she leapt to the floor and slammed the
door hard enough to shake the walls.  She twisted the brass lock and kicked the
fallen clothes out of her way.  Her mother pounded at the door.  “What'd I tell
you about that fucking attitude!”

    Nichole turned on the TV, popped Sonic the Hedgehog into her Genesis,
and forced the world around her to dissolve into a spinning blue whirl and the
tinkle of golden rings.

---

    At 3:00 a.m. Nichole woke to the feeling of a small hand covering her
mouth.  Lizzy's weak, pleading voice halted Nichole's first instinct of
struggling.  “Shhhh, Nichole, it's me.  There's a monster outside my window. 
Can I sleep with you?”

    “Nichole removed Lizzy's hand from her mouth.  “How did you unlock the
door?  What are you talking about?  There's no such thing as monsters – go back
to sleep.”

    She could only see her sister's silhouette in the dim room, a dark head
shaking, no.  “But I'm too scared.”

    “Go sleep with Mom.”

    “She never came home.  Maybe the monster ate her.”

    “Lizzy, I'm going to show you that there isn't any monster.”  Nichole
slipped out of bed, scooped up her sister, and carried her straight across the
hall to Lizzy's bedroom without bothering to turn on the lights.

    “It's outside my window.”  The child pointed to the blinds at the back
of the room to their left.

    “Okay, okay.  I'll check outside the window.”  Nichole set Lizzy down
and crawled over her sister's bed to reach the window.  She poked her fingers
through the blinds and peered outside.  A large, moon-white face with an
enormous, silver eye met Nichole's gaze.  The creature flared its nostril and
snorted.  Nichole screamed and scrambled off the bed.

    Lizzy screamed when her big sister did, then shouted.  “I told you.” 
The child stomped her foot.  “It's a monster.”

    Nichole sprung back to the window and yanked the blind slits as far
apart as she could.  The creature backed away a few paces and now Nichole
recognized it for what it was.  “Oh.  My.  God.  Lizzy, that's not a monster  .
. . it's a – a- unicorn!”

    The child pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.  “I know a horse-
monster when I see one.  And a pointy devil's horn makes that a horse-monster.”

    Nichole took a second to give Lizzy an incredulous look before turned
her head back to the equine.  “I must be dreaming.”  With a whinny, the unicorn
reared up on its hind legs and trotted away.  “Wait!”  Nichole called to the
creature through the window pain.  It stopped and turned its head back to look
at Nichole.  “Are you?  Could you be real?”  A smile touched the corners of her
mouth.  “Or am I just crazy.”

    The unicorn dropped her head and ran into the darkness of the ally way. 
Nichole let go of the blinds.  “She's gone, Lizzy.”

    “Nichole, I can't sleep here.  What if it comes back to eat me?”

    “Lizzy, get real, it's like Unico, or the Last Unicorn.”

    “What?”  Her sister stared at her in the dark bedroom.

    “Lemme show you.”  Nichole walked across the room and flickered on a
light; she went into Lizzy's closet and dug through a box overwhelmed by
yellowed books.  “Here we go.”  She lifted a red hardback with a loose-bound
spine and flicked a few curls away from her eyes as she searched the index.  She
flipped through the pages until she saw a picture of a unicorn.  “See?   It's
not a monster.”

    Lizzy took the book – holding the binding as if it were a monster.  The
page showed a painting of a princess with golden tresses (resembling an older
Lizzy) feeding a white unicorn a golden apple.  Lizzy looked up from the book. 
“so it's a nice horse-monster?”

    Nichole's jaw went slack.  “Uh, whatever.  Sure.  It's a good monster. 
Now go back to bed.  It's gone now . . . if it was really there.”

    “It's too hot in here.”  She whined in her sleepy, six-year-old voice. 
“I can't sleep.  I was gonna open my window and that's when I saw the monster.”

    Nichole shook her head and flicked off the light.  “Lizzy, how many
times have I told you not to open the window at night?  It's dangerous. 
Whatever, come with me, we'll sleep on the couch.  It's cool out there.”

    “But if mom comes home--”

    Nichole wiped sweat off of her forehead. “I'm pretty sure she's not
coming home, Lizzy, and she's not going to work tomorrow either.  She'll come
home, hung over, and sleep all day.”
 
    Lizzy clutched the old book in her arms.  “Are you sure?  But you said
if fairy tales existed she'd keep her job.  Isn't this book a fairy tale book? 
And didn't we see the nice monster?  That makes it true.”

    Nichole rubbed her temples for a moment.  "Lizzy, I was just talking
when I said that."
   
    "But you said--" 

    Nichole took Lizzy's hand and led her into the living room.  "Don't
worry about it, Lizzy, let's go back to bed.”

---

    At 1:37 in the afternoon, Linda walked into the apartment with bed-
tangled curls and last night's rumpled clothing.  A round, cheap pair of men's
sunglasses covered her eyes and cigarette hung loose from her candy apple lips.

    “You went to work looking like that?”  Nichole asked ironically, not
bothering to look up from the tattered, fairytale book.

    “No, smart ass, I quit my job.  I can't work there and date my manager.”
 She stumbled to the sofa and flopped onto the stained cushions with the grace
of a possessed puppet.

    The ribbon of cigarette smoke made Lizzy cough, but otherwise the girls
ignored Lisa as Nichole continued to read to Lizzy from the old red book.  “And
all were happy throughout the kingdom, but then an evil witch stormed into the
castle and--”

    “Go read in your room, Nichole, I'm trying to sleep.”

    Now Nichole looked up from her story.  “It's 100 degrees in there.  I
think it's making Lizzy heat sick.”

    “You have a fan.  If I tell you one more time I'm gonna kick your ass.”

    Nichole slapped the book shut and hoisted Lizzy against her hip and
shoulder.  “Let's go, Princess.”  Nichole went into her room,  double checking
the lock this time, set Lizzy one the bed, and moved the 12” box fan so the air
blew into her sister's face.

    “Open the window, maybe we'll get a breeze.”  Lizzy suggested.

    Nichole nodded and gave Lizzy the fairy tale book to hold.  She walked
to the window and pulled the blind up, letting the heat-bleached, Arizona
sunlight paint the entire room.  “At least it'll air out of laundry.  Maybe
grandma will give me a roll of quarters when she gets paid.”

    “Nichole?”

    Nichole turned over her shoulder to glance at her little sister sitting
on her bed.  “Yeah?”

    “The unicorn?  It was real, wasn't it?”

    Nichole shut her eyes.  “No, Lizzy.”

    “But we both saw it.  You know you saw it.”

    Reopening her eyes, Nichole looked at her sister again.  “I told you
this morning, Lizzy.  The heat made our brains funny.  How could a unicorn live
in the city?  With all the people, pollution, and cars.  We were half asleep and
too hot, so we saw something that wasn't there.”

    Lizzy stared at the book in her hands.  “Is that why Mom quit job? 
Because these fairy-tales you've read me all day don't exist?”

    “Lizzy.”  Nichole set next to the child and ran her fingers through the
sandy locks.  “I told you, don't pay attention to what I said the other day. 
Mom quit her job because that's what Mom does.  She'll always be that way. 
She'll always go off with men, get drunk, and quit her job.”

    “But when dad was here--”

    “Shhhh.  I know.  I'm sorry, Lizzy."It's just . . .”  Her voice trailed
off.  Nichole starred out the window and across the street.  She wiped sweat out
of her eyes and looked again.  “. . . the heat?”

    Outside on the far end of the road, the unicorn gazed at Nichole, 
vanishing behind the stream of traffic and reappearing in the rippled spaces
between vehicles.  Nichole stood and leaned out the window, blinking and feeling
her forehead for a temperature.  “I'm sorry.”  She pleaded.  “I want to believe.
 I swear I do, but you can't be real.”

    Lizzy jumped off the bed.  “Nichole, do you see it again?”

    “Lizzy, unicorns can't exist here; there are no happy endings in this
neighborhood.  There are drug dealers, crack whores, and single mothers passed
out on the sofa, but no unicorns.”  Nichole clenched her fists.  “Why would she
come to us?”

    Lizzy lifted the red book.  "Isn't that what they do?  Find young
maidens in trouble?"
   
    Nichole shook her head.  "Lizzy, that's just a story book."  She bit her
lower lip and tilted her head up towards the ceiling.  "Even if it were true,
why didn't she come sooner?  Where were the unicorns and guardian angels when
dad died?  Where's the fairy godmother to help grandma so she doesn't work
herself to death?  Don't you see why this can't be real?  It's heat exhaustion. 
A hallucination."

    Lizzy hurled the old book on the floor.  "We both see the same thing!  I
thought you were s'pose to be smart.  You're the older sister."  She stepped on
the night stand so she could look out the window. Red blushed over her doll-like
cheeks from heat and anger, but her lips lifted in a smile when she looked
outside.  "She's so pretty."
   
    Nichole followed her sister's gaze.  Sunlight struck the equine's white
coat and the frothy white color reminded Nichole of ocean foam.  "It doesn't
change anything, Lizzy. Even if she exists, I'm sure she's lost.  She's not hear
for us." 

    The unicorn answered by taking step into the traffic heavy street.  She
wove between cars,resting at the median.  Nostril's and eyes wide and panicked.

    “Nichole, do something or she'll get hit.” Lizzy begged.

    "Stay there!"  Nichole thrust herself out the opened window and dashed
across the three feet of lawn, into the other half of the four-lane road.

    When the unicorn saw Nichole jump out the window, she hurried back into
traffic, trying to meet Nichole before the girl reached the road.  Cars swerved
aside and honked as the unicorn trotted forwards.  The mythical creature almost
reached Nichole first, but the long hurank-hurank of a big truck's horn froze
the creature like a terror struck deer.

    Seeing the truck, Nichole sprinted to the unicorn and shouldered the
creature out of the way.  She heard breaks squeal and felt a sudden thrawk as
the truck's metal grill crushed into her left shoulder and side.  The impact
spun Nichole out and down until something warm and smooth and living broke her
fall.  Nichole panted for breaths too big for her lungs.  Her eyes, tight-shut
with pain and fear, refused to open.  She held her breath, desperate for her
heroism to be real instead of illusion, or if not, to die on the road with the
smells of heat and exhaust and the far off wails of an ambulance. 

    A rough, wet tongue licked her broken ribs and shoulder; the throbbing
faded.  A smell, like ocean breeze, slipped through the pollution.  Nichole
sucked in the smell, her lungs expanding without pain.  Powerful, snorting
breath tickled the hairs on the back of Nichole's neck; teeth nibbled her hair

     “**Italics*** You saved me. ***End Italics***"  A quiet voice
whispered.

    Nichole opened her eyes.