It was a long, lazy Saturday in the middle of July. In the lush oak canopy cicadas drummed over the occasional lackadaisical songbird. Really, it was too hot unless you were an insect. Under one of the gnarled oaks Holl lay eating an apple and reading a library book. You could tell how far she was in the book by the apple drippings spotting the pages and where she'd started that afternoon by the kinked page in the middle.
The book she was reading featured pirates sailing the open ocean. There was a sword fight in each chapter, which seemed to Holl to be just enough sword fights to keep things interesting in between all the chatty bits and swooning women.
She finished the apple, folded down a page, and sat up stretching her back. In the bright afternoon sunlight, the best shade the woods could muster was a medium green. There were no deep corners of park in which to toss her apple core. She settled on a clump of bright green honeysuckle filled with a gaggle of sparrows. The apple core landed with a satisfying thump and eruption of enraged sparrow cheeps.
"Ouch!" A girl walked out of the woods, rubbing her head and frowning. "Who threw that?"
And that was how Holl met the Queen of the Bridge.
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