They came boiling out of the night-club, all red-smeared lips and shimmering eyes.
"Pigs!" they called, voices a curious mingling. "Pigs!"
"So what if we're underage, eh?
"We got rights too?"
"Yeah, you can't treat us like that!"
The door slammed and they hooted with laughter, invincible with their defiance. "We did it!" crowed the most beautiful and brilliant of all. "We did it, eh?" Her answer was a wordless cheer of triumph as they raced down the silent street, the wind lifting them up on wings of billowing fury.

One slowed down, worried.
"Hey, Mariana, they said they were calling our parents."
Another frowned.
"Yeah, my dad won't be happy."
They came to a stop, all of them worried now.
"Yeah. I'll get a hiding."
"Me too."
"Yeah, me too. Mariana, what should we do? Eh?"

And Mariana's heel broke off.
"Shit!" she swore, yanking chunky shoes from delicate feet. "You do not do, you do not do any more, black shoe," she declared, holding the shoes dramatically above her head.

They all looked at her, silent and concerned. Mariana wore bruises like other people wore medals. This particular battle would earn her many more. She noticed the stares, and just for a moment the pain and the fear finally broke through. Then she threw her head back and laughed with breathtaking scorn, wild black hair tumbling down her back.

"My dad?" she laughed. "He won't catch me! He's fat and slow, my dad. Like a big Frisco seal!"
Barefoot, she jumped onto a low wall that separated a house from the street.
"My dad's a Frisco seal!" she chanted. "A Frisco, Frisco, Frisco seal!" And she hop-skipped along the wall, precariously balanced, broken shoe in one hand, whole in the other. "A Frisco, Frisco seal!"

They didn't understand what she was saying, but they knew what she meant, and so, one by one, they all jumped up behind her and danced along the wall, a jumping exuberant line.
"Frisco, Frisco, Frisco seal!" they sang. "Frisco, Frisco seal!"
For one moment, they were free forever.

And the ageless wind picked up the words, and whispered to itself long after they were gone.

This story will make much more sense if you read the poem 'Daddy' by Sylvia Plath first. Original concept thought up on a hot and windy night as I ran up a hill with the Milky Way shining above me, this story was a god-send, as the next day was a deadline for a story-writing competition I especially wanted to enter. I hastily transferred the idea into words and posted it off to a distant mailbox for the competition. I still haven't entirely captured the mood of that night in this piece, but then, I don't think I'll be good enough to do that for a while yet.