Worst-Case Scenario by Marisa Oishi (14, Washington)

Helmet forgotten, raincoat unzipped, her dark hair streamed out behind her. Her scuffed boots pedaled loosely, and her bike, two sizes too small, sped across the empty parking lot. Back and forth. She ignored the burning in her thighs. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this unburdened. An observer, had there been one, would have seen a happy girl. Her thoughts and worries left behind, no heavy memories weighing on her shoulders. 

A noise jolted her out of her momentary bliss. ​

---

"Maddy!" A six-year-old little boy called her name. Images of worst-case scenarios flooded through her mind. 

His Disney princess helmet, forced on his head by his sister, shrugged off in embarrassment, now uselessly hanging on the handlebars of his bike as he slammed uncontrollably into a tree.

A stranger in dirty clothes, seeing a young boy vulnerable, alone, clapping a hand over the boy's mouth and taking him to whatever shady place kidnappers take children. 

The boy's legs, too short for the bike he was riding, mutilated under the bicycle after an unsuccessful attempt to stop and wave at his sister. 

​The girl turned her head to glance at the boy. He was fine. Relief and guilt flooded over the girl, more intense than any feeling of freedom she had experienced. She let out a shaky breath. She needed to protect him. They were the only constants in each other’s lives as the two siblings transitioned from foster home to foster home. They needed each other. 

That was why she had given him their only helmet. That was why she had spent her entire allowance on fixing his bicycle's brakes instead of her own. That was why she had always been the one to call out "car" for her brother when a vehicle made a wrong turn into the unused parking lot. 

It was too late when she turned her head back to the path ahead of her.