All my life has been spent on mud roads. By the time I was 8, I knew every kid I'd ever know in that town. I'd be in school with them forever.
At 10 years old, I met my soul mate. Sam was a knobby-kneed little thing with straw hair. She had teeth too big for her mouth, and a mouth too big for her own good.
By the time we were 12, you wouldn't catch one of us without the other. And if you did, you'd know there was something to worry about.
When we were 13, Sam and I'd spend our days swinging from ropes and fishing for nothing in the canal behind our land.
When we turned 16, we'd take dad's truck to the old steel bridge and dare each other to jump. That truck never did stay clean for more than a day.
We were sisters for the better part of our lives. We'd share stories of all the adventures we'd have together. Once we were grown, we were gonna leave this ruddy redneck town and do something worth doing. We were gonna move into the city together. Work at a desk all day and paint the town all night. We'd meet artists and celebrities and dance and reminisce.
Now we're 18. And I'm leaving town. And Sam isn't. And I'm scared.
