The hot summer day had turned us into popsicles - two frozen treats sitting side-by-side, excreting sticky perspiration in the way that only forgotten dreamsicles could. And, just like popsicles, we sat in silence having realized that they’re were only two fates that we could meet that day - to melt into a slippery puddle or be completely engulfed sometime in the day.

Artie was slowly chewing on a stub of a fingernail, looking intently out into the horizon that was obscured by the houses across my porch. Their windows were thrown up to their fullest extent - in some vain hope that they may be able to entice a visit from a cool breeze. He spat at the sun-dried lawn.

“Fitz, what are we going to do today? It’s just so…so damned hot…” he panted as he pulled his wet collar away from his neck.

“Don’t talk that way,” I replied - quite aware that my mother was only a door away - sprawled somewhere in the dark house in front of the only fan we owned. “Of course there’s gonna be something to do today…we could go cool off under the hose -”

“We’ve done all that shit already. We need something to do some sort of adventure,” he said as he stood up and dusted the red dirt off of his ratty, grass-stained pants. His eyes returned to the horizon - or at least the house in front of him - and the look of deep concentration returned to his face. “Think about it Fitz, you could impress Molly. She might even call you Elmore, you know in the sweet-talky way she does…the way that makes you blush like a damned made-up girl…”

“Shut up, Ar-thur!” I said hoarsely as I jumped up and stood in front of him clenching my wavering fists together at my sides. His freckled face was pulled up into a mocking smile, revealing his jumbled, tarter-stained teeth. I glared at him, and his mouth cracked open wider when he saw this, a high-pitched laugh tumbling out

“Fitzy, Fitzy, I’m not against you. I’m in your army…or maybe your in my army…but whatever. I don’t want to get caught up in some trifling argument with you like some damned girl…”

“Fine,” I replied allowing my hands to relax at their sides.

“Hey there!” Molly called out as she walked down the porch with the door slamming behind her. She didn’t walk over, instead, she stood at the bottom step looking down the sidewalk, expectant.

Every fiber in my being made me want to be the person she was waiting for. The person that would run across the street and grab her hand as she smiled, nervously running her hair through her crinkle fry hair.

“Hey, lookit!” Artie exclaimed as he jabbed me in the ribs. “It’s her!” As if I didn’t notice her standing there. As if I didn’t notice her waiting for someone besides me.

“Shuddup, I don’t care,” I lied.

I watched Henry walked down the pavement to Molly and saw how her face exploded into a smile that contained triple the joy it did whenever she saw me, whenever said “hi” to me. I watched as they hovered around each other and how they talked for a moment until their hands were magnetically drawn to each other and finally laced together.

I watched as they strolled lazily down the sidewalk laughing in the way that couples do, Hey we’re together, the laugh screamed out to anyone in the proximity. Just wanted to make sure you noticed. But I couldn’t possibly imagine that Molly would endure such silliness especially with some as pathetic as Henry. Especially with someone who wasn’t me.

“Ah, that’s got to hurt Fitz,” Artie said watching the pair. “I’m gonna take you up on that offer though…maybe we should cool off with the hose. I swear I might just melt in this heat.”

I started to run across the street blinded by the mirages that the sun reflected from multi-faceted asphalt.

“Fitz, Fitz, what the hell are you doing?!”

I heard him and Molly and Henry heard him, too, and stared as I ripped across the street almost tripping over my hand-me-down shoes. But I didn’t stop until I reached the pavement, panting only a foot away from Molly. Artie caught up with me and grabbed my arm panting.

“Hey, El-more,” Molly said as she made an attempt to disentangle the offensive relationship-knot she made with Henry, but he held fast and after a second attempt Molly gave up.

“Don’t you see we’re busy, Fitzgerald?” Henry said with an eye roll.

“N-no!” I replied a little too quickly, a little too loudly. “I just wanted to say hi to…Molly…”

Henry laughed. “I’ll get rid of this creep, Molly.”

“He’s not a creep,” Artie retorted.

“Oh, you shut the hell up, Dobbs. Learn a li’l somethin’ from ya father - if he had kept his damned trap shut he might not be in the clink.”

Artie face crumbled.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” I said.

“What?” Henry mocked.

“You heard me.”

“Maybe’ll just hafta get a little closer to hear ya pipsqueak,” Henry his hand from Molly and walked closer. “You know, I get what you’re pullin’ right now…Fitzgerald…I get it. You want my girl, but you know what? She doesn’t like you so give the hell up.”

“No,” I said so quickly that I didn’t even know what I was rejecting. Was I rejecting that I liked her or that I should give up?

Either way, Henry punched me, his knuckles jabbing deeply into my left eye and cheek until it retreated. I stumbled to the ground, my hands scraping painfully against the burning sidewalk. Reflexively, I pulled my sting left hand over my throbbing right eye - nursing the developing shiner that was slowly swelling over my eye and cheek.

Molly as screaming now, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you Fitz? What the hell is wrong with you? You challenged Henry…goddammnit! You know Bash ‘em up Henry!”

Molly was now next to him, trying to move my hand from my eye.

“Elmore! Elmore! Let me see it…please…”

“S’okay…M-molly,” I said as soon as a trusted that my voice wouldn’t betray the fact that I was trying my hardest not to cry.

Author's Note: I really don't know what I'm going to do with Elmore or whether or not I'm going to continue writing stories about him...anyways...I haven't quite pinpointed Elmore's age and I think that it would be safest to say that this is set in the 1970's and it's him reflecting on Molly. I had lots of fun writing this piece especially sense Artie has just discovered the joy of swear words! Everyone is ten - except Henry, he's twelve. Rated for said language.