The Happy Shirt

Ruby and I, we were fat and happy when we first met. Unlike most nine year olds who spent their time watching TV and collecting comic books, we sat near the river. We played till dusk, talked about our favourite stories from the English book and watched ships with iron blocks (we guessed) being sent for water cooling. 

Summers were the best time for us as we got an extra hour to play by the river owing to late sunsets. While rushing back to our homes on Fridays, we planned on coming a little early the next day. We planned on wearing our happy shirts, bringing all the savings of the week and buying  ice cream on our way back. 

Once Ruby got a stubborn flu and we couldn't go to the river for almost a month. I went to her place every Saturday and told her all about school, about this new boy in the class who brought noodles for lunch, about our science teacher who told us we were all going to die one day and that kids who kept their books shabby would  never learn anything. 

There was this one Saturday when I couldn't go to Ruby' s as there were people coming over and I had to wear a pretty dress and greet everyone and teach an eight year old how to do well in exams. By the time the relatives were gone, it was already dark. The next Saturday, I went to Ruby's only to find the house locked. I came again next week and it was the same. 

I have a hard time remembering her face today. All I remember are those evenings. I would like to believe that Ruby is alive today, does something really cool during summer evenings,  and wears her happy shirt once in a while. 

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