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Jack City


It was warmer than usual for a late April day and I
rode my bicycle on dry roads as opposed to the slushy
slippery roads of last week. Sabrina’s home was just
outside the imaginary border of the “cookie cutters” as we
call them, a community of five-hundred homes that were
built in less than six months six years ago after the
infamous Week of Disasters. Yah, that’s right – five
hundred homes in six months. I'll tell you about that later
so hang in there. On the other side of the two-lane
highway was the enormous plot of land owned by the Sand
Castle Air Craft Company or SCA for short. You pronounce
it like sky with an A. Ninety percent of the Jack City
workforce was employed here or so my Dad said. The
analogy he gave me was that we were a one trick pony. I
think that is an old folk's analogy 'cause it was a bit lame
even for his standards.
I turned left at the hockey arena and rode another
five minutes uphill to Sabrina’s house. The girls were
already there waiting for me, their bikes laid out flat on the
Sander’s front lawn. I guess I should introduce you to
them as they are my best friends and I spend just about
every waking moment outside my home with them.
Rosalie is the oldest by one month and has long
blond hair with pink highlights. She is the wannabe rock
star and has the ability to play several instruments with
relative ease. She is not as good as Sabrina on the piano
but then again I don't know many kids - even adults for
that matter - that can play like Sab. Rosalie, like Kristina
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