The Time of Change

Her

Some miles away, a little girl of around six was standing alone in her backyard. She was skinny and petite with extremely pale skin but heavily freckled. Very light brown hair hung down to her lower back in loose curls. Her eyes caught people's attention more than any other aspect of her beauty. They were the most spectacular clear, glasslike, transparent blue color. They looked as if they held the world's secrets and all the soft, warm candlelight in the world.

The grass about her was green, the street was happy, the birds chirped, but she was not smiling. Quite the contrary, she felt as if she were going to cry as she glanced longingly at the swing set a few feet off. She pictured her beautiful dark-haired, green-eyed mother pushing her in the swing, giggling with her, tickling her, playing with her. Life had been so fun in those days, when her family was whole and together and enjoyed each other. But all that had changed. The little girl's mother was gone now, died less than a year earlier. Her father was dating a new woman already. Her life had been thrown out of orbit by one night, one stupid mistake by the doctor who prescribed her mother's medication.

She gazed aimlessly around her yard. Her father was not home, only a babysitter who was part of the large parade that had come through since her mother's death. Her younger brothers were napping. No one spoke to her at school, for she was extremely quiet and shy. She had never had friends. The little girl was utterly, undoubtedly alone in her little world, and was far sadder than she figured other children felt. She often looked at happier children and wondered why she could not have such a perfect peace. It did not seem fair that she should be made to suffer.

As she turned to go inside and escape the endless silence of the lonely yard, a tremendous crash startled her out of her skin and forced her to whip around. Behind her, where before there had been nothing but a stretch of green grass, now stood a blue police box on its side, denting into the ground. Dirt cluttered around it in clumps. The girl was stunned but sure that her babysitter would have heard the din and would come running out any minute. Nonetheless the young girl tentatively approached the police box and was about to touch it to see if it was real when the door creaked open loudly. A head of hair peeked out, flopping on itself. The rest of the head followed a second later. The boy seemed to be about her age, if not a month or two older. His eyes are pretty, she thought at once, and they were: green like the sweetest grass on a summer morning. After a moment, she realized that his hair was wet. She wondered why.

"I've been in the swimming pool!" the boy exclaimed, as if he had read her mind. The girl stepped back, raising her eyebrows. "Bad place to fall into this time of year, oh yes," he rambled. It was, indeed, very cold, because it was wintertime, just after Christmas. Despite the cold, the lawns in this part of England had stayed green. Without warning, the boy suddenly yelped in pain and fell over the side of the police box, hitting the ground with an unpleasant thunk. His fingers dug into his stomach through his overcoat and button-up shirt. The girl thought this was fairly strange attire for a boy her age to wear, but still said nothing as she immediately crouched on her knees next to him in concern. His face was deathly pale and covered in cold sweat that mingled with the water from the pool he claimed to have been in. His eyes were closed.

And he didn't seem to be breathing.

The little girl was frightened. She had no idea what was wrong, being only a six-year-old. But she was an exceptionally bright six-year-old, so she pressed the side of her face to his sopping wet chest, like she saw the paramedics do with her mother. No rhythmic thump of his heartbeat. Then she gently placed her right index finger near his mouth, not quite touching it but close enough that the tiny hairs on her hand prickled. No breath. She sat up straighter on her knees, panic setting in. Where was her babysitter? Why hadn't she come out at the sound of the crash? The girl didn't know, but she wondered if there was anything she could do. Her compassion and tender heart made it impossible for her to simply run and get help. She would never be comfortable leaving his side while he was hurt, for if he got worse while she was gone, she would never forgive herself.