Don't Go There || Eddie Munson

twist of fate

       He had just slung cold, wet mud on your brand new pink corduroys. He stared up at you from where he was crouched a couple feet away with a mischievous grin, his two bottom teeth missing. He looked just barely older than you, making your guess that he was six years old.
You'd known walking over there was a bad idea.

Go on, your mother had told you when you'd asked her to shoo the little boy, he won't bite. You were at your favorite play ground with her, the only one in town with a body of water next to it. You loved to look in that deep, brown pond; maybe search for frogs or make some inedible version of "soup" using only what nature provided. Today, you were ready to make another mud pie -- much to your mother's dismay -- when you'd noticed a little boy on his knees by the edge of the water. Your mother shot down your request to have him removed, and after some encouragement, you tip toed anxiously over to him without him noticing.

It was around 6pm on an a crisp night in early September, blue hour you thought the grown ups called it. You felt a chill as you approached the water, regretting not listening when you'd been advised to bring a light jacket. 

You'd stood watching the little boy and his flawed pie-making technique for only a few seconds before tilting your head and bravely informing him, "You're doing it wrong." His confused eyes met yours, and he looked down at his muddy mess before looking skeptically back up at you. "The leaves and stuff go on top," you'd added, fiddling with your fingers.

"Nuh uh," he'd disagreed, raising a brow. "They're the plate."

You'd sighed as you lowered yourself to his level, scooping a handful of mud of your own to begin explaining it to him the right way. "Look, if you rip up some grass, that can be the sprinkles. They go on t--"

Splat.

You went immediately silent as you glanced down at the growing brown stain on the leg of your pretty new pants.

"What's the matter?" He asked in his annoying little voice. "Doesn't it go there?" He wiped his dirty hands on his jeans and began laughing himself to tears; you took advantage of the couple seconds his eyes were shut to take your handful of mud and sling it right back at him. He froze, then glanced quickly back and forth from the mud on his arm to your triumphant grin. You heard your mother cry out behind you, and you knew she would soon be approaching.

"Why are you smiling?" The boy stood, and you noticed you two were the exact same height. "You don't care that you're all messy?"

"No," you grabbed some more wet dirt, as did the boy when he noticed. He seemed more entertained than annoyed. "I care that you're messing up something as easy as a mud pie."

"I like you," he nodded approvingly, "you're weird."

"You're weird," you tittered back, torn between offense and amusement.

In almost the same instant, the two of you began chucking your dirt at each other, squealing giggles ringing through the air around you. His arms and most of his shirt were soon covered, as were your pants, and just before you could throw the biggest handful you'd scooped, your mother's arm caught your wrist and shook it so you dropped everything you had. You hoped the boy wouldn't throw anything else while you were defenseless. Your mother was scrambling to wipe as much off of you as she could, then making a fuss about how wiping it was only making it worse, then repeatedly asking what was wrong with you. She looked over at your accomplice with judgmental eyes, but her rage only fueled your laughter further.

You were a quarter of the way up the little hill to the seating area when he cupped his dirty hands around his mouth and shouted to you, "I'm Eddie! What's your name?"

"Y/N!" you yelled back as your mother tromped annoyedly up the remainder of the hill dragging you along with her. She was scolding you through clenched teeth, but you couldn't be bothered to hear what she was saying.

Eddie smiled and waved goodbye to you, and you mirrored him. You weren't upset about your pants at all. You were thinking of how you usually never went up to other kids first, never thought you could have fun with one. You thought your mother would have been happy you'd made a friend.

~

    By some pleasant twist of fate, only a few days later did you discover that the kid whose backyard shared a fence with yours, the same kid that your mother had tried convincing you for months to go out and make friends with -- simply because you two were neighbors -- was Eddie. You'd been looking out your backdoor with the glass window that was two times your size, searching for the neighbor's wiener dog who sometimes let you pet it. Your eyes found it, and then, Eddie came running from the house. You swung your door open, which caught his attention. Huge and goofy twin smiles appeared on your faces when he noticed you, and the two of you ran to your shared chain link fence to bombard each other with questions. His dog, who you soon found out was named Shiloh, went so wild the entire time that Eddie decided to just climb on over to your side.

That was the first of many, many times he would jump and land on your side of the fence. Your father wasn't really a lawn care guy, and you and Eddie loved that your backyard had the long grass that came up past your knees. It made using your imaginations very easy and went well with all the games you played. You two were survivors in a jungle, spies who could never be spotted, and the best dragon hunters on the block. By your third summer together, when you turned 8 and he turned 9, his older sister and all her friends were convinced you two would grow up and get married. They constantly joked about it, and you'd both just roll your eyes and scoff. That wasn't even a thought in your minds. The only thing you guys were concerned with that year, was the tree house you finally convinced your father to build for you in the giant oak tree in your back yard.