Trust Falls

Popsicles and the Meaning of Chocolate Fudge

I sat down on the tree stump, reaching a hand up towards the sky. The sun was in my eyes, and I squinted, trying to shade my face from the hot sun. Someone tapped my shoulder. I jumped and fell off.

"Popsicle?"
I turned to see Yousuf standing behind the old stump, a popsicle sticking out of the side of his mouth. He was holding one out for me. I got up and brushed myself off.

"How'd you get here?"

He shrugged and jerked his head towards the fence. "The door was kinda open. So I jumped over." He shook the popsicle in his hand. "Do you want it?"

My eyes dropped to his hands and I gently took it. "Sure. Thanks."
He nodded and stretched, pulling his own popsicle from his mouth. A small trail of blue leaked between his fingers and dribbled down his arm. I made a face, tearing at my own icy treat. "It's melting, you know."
He turned his arm to look at the trail of blue liquid coming down to his elbow. He stuck out his tongue and tried to lick it.

"Ick. Don't do that." I rubbed my nose. "I'll get a napkin. One sec."
I walked across my backyard and pushed open the backdoor, breathing in the cold air. It was sweltering outside. I picked up a few napkins from the dining table before going back outside. Yousuf was still standing in the place I'd left him, the blue summer treat stuck in his mouth. I handed him the napkins.

"Mm, thanks," he said, around the popsicle. He started wiping off the liquid on his arm.

I stuck my own popsicle in my mouth and sat back down on the old tree stump, leaning my head back and letting my hair tumble backwards until it brushed against my elbows. The cold popsicle hit my chin and I straightened back up to see Yousuf watching me.

"Do you wanna play something?"
I groaned. "It's hot."

He snickered. "I know I am."

I rolled my eyes and shoved him. "You're nine. What do you know about grownup words."
He stuck his tongue out at me.

I wiped my chin with the back of my hand. "Mom says we're not supposed to use grownup words."

"What're grown up words?"
I shrugged. "You know. Like..." I hesitated. "You know! Don't ask me that."
He leaned closer and whispered in my ear. "Like...hot. Like hot fudge."
I choked and shoved him away. "Eww...you stupid! Fudge is a bad word and you know it." I licked the red popsicle trail from the heel of my hand. "Unless you mean the chocolate kind. I don't think chocolate fudge is a bad word." I stopped. "Er..is it? It shouldn't be, right?"

He snorted. "You...You don't know what you're talking about, do you?"
I felt my face turn hot and I frowned. "Oh shut up. Like you know any better."

"Chocolate fudge ain't a bad word. Fudge ain't even a bad word." He finished his popsicle and scrunched up the plastic wrapping. "But shut up is a bad word."

I frowned. "But Dawud bhaiyya says it all the time." I narrowed my eyes, thinking about it as I played with the flavored ice in my mouth. "Fudge isn't a bad word? Since wh--hey!"

Yousuf pulled the popsicle from my mouth and held it up, sticking his tongue out. "You want it back?"
I reached over, trying to take it back. "What do you want with my popsicle anyway?"
He grinned. "Nothing. Just wanna play."

I put a hand on his chest and leaned over, grabbing my popsicle back as he gasped and stumbled backwards. "Heh. Got it back."

He dusted his shirt off. "Meh. Whatever." He looked up at me. "Everyone knows girls have cooties."

I smirked at him. "Guys have cooties, not girls. Idiot. We're clean." I glanced at the red popsicle stain on my shirt. "Usually."

"Yeah right. Girls are gross." He made a face. "You're gross, Iqra."

I kicked him, just barely missing. "If I'm so gross, go away. I didn't call you here."
"Fine fine, don't get mad at me. I'm just playin'." He leaned against the stump and I scooted over to make space for him. He sat down, playing with the popsicle wrapper in his hands. I took it from him and balled it up in my hand along with my own. "I'll throw it away."
He nodded. "Thanks."
"Mmhmm."

I traced my finger over the bumpy ridge of the stump. "So, why'd you come here?"
He groaned. "I'm bored, Iqra. I wanted a friend to play with." He looked at me.

"Fine. We'll play something when I'm done eating."

I looked towards the fence.

He tugged my hair.

I hissed and turned around. "What're you doing?"
"Nothing. But your hair's...brown."
I laughed. "What're you talking about Yousuf? Duh. Of course it's brown. Why? Does it bother you that it's brown?"
He shook his head. "No. It's fine."
"Good." I looked at him.

He grinned. "Mine's red like fire. It's cooler."

I studied the locks of wavy hair glowing in the sunlight, and shook my head. "It isn't fire-truck red. It's like...brownish...reddish..."
He frowned. "Yeah right. But bright red's cooler. Like Power Rangers."
I patted his head and he ducked away. I smiled. "Who cares. It's hair. Yours looks nice, either way. Forget about it."

He smiled. "Thanks. You're not too bad. For a girl."
I kicked the air. "And you're not terrible. For a boy." I shifted and hopped off the stump.

"I'mma go throw these away and we can play something. Do you need to wash your hands?"

He shook his head.

"Fine then. I'll be back. Don't go away."

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A/N: Bhaiyya: The respectful term for a guy older than you, usually your brother. (When referring to a girl, it's "Baji.")

Iqra's hair is showing! *gasp* No. It's okay, she's only nine in this chapter. Girls start wearing headscarves when they hit puberty. 

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! Cheers! 

~October