August Flash #1 - "Hop"

Every morning that summer, it was the same.

“Myles! Wanna play hopscotch with us?”

His six and seven-year-old sisters, Ava and Ella, would camp out by the chalked diagram on the driveway. Before any other game, before breakfast (before even getting dressed sometimes, because Mom was spoiling them) they got busy with the ten squares.

Myles perched at the kitchen bar, eating his bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and he heard the girls outside. calling out the numbers as they refreshed the grid.

“One…two…three…”

It sounded as though they were reciting the most boring and repetitive poem in existence.

“They’re such babies,” he complained to his mother. “They really need that much help, remembering how to count to ten?”

Mom smiled. “They like playing the game, that’s all. Besides, it’s good for their coordination.”

Myles took his bowl to the sink. “Every single day? How are they not getting bored?”

“They mix it up,” said his mother. She opened the junk drawer, reached towards the back, past a myriad of pens, batteries, and scrunches, and finally pulled back her hand, holding a small spray bottle. She nodded with satisfaction, and then closed the drawer. She smiled at her son and said, “They have their different shooters.”

Myles groaned. He’s had the girls bore him over dinner about the stones, beanbags, shells, buttons, and other toys they’ve thrown during the game. “Great,” he said sarcastically.

“It’s not just about the numbers. I’ve heard them label the squares all kinds of things.” She peers at the back of the spray bottle thoughtfully. “Colors, animals…” She laughed. “Pizza toppings.”

Myles rolled his eyes. He can remember that one, fixing a puncture on his bike while his sisters called out the categories.

“Pepperoni!”

“Mushrooms!”

The girls had hooted, having the time of their lives, apparently.

“Olives!”

“Yucky, I hate olives!”

“You don’t have to eat them, you just have to say it!”

Say it? Scream it, more like it. As shrilly as possible.

“I love how creative they are,” Mom said. “It’s okay to pretend, to play like that. Maybe you could try it. A little hopscotch never hurt anyone.”

Myles stared at her. “Mom. I’m going into fifth grade. And look…” He waved at his body. “I’m a boy, remember?”

His mother sniffed. “It’s not just for girls.” She tapped her son on the nose. “Don’t be so sexist.”

“I’m not sexist,” whined Myles. “I’m just…” He trailed off, and then he whispered, “I don’t know what I am.”

He’s the man of the house. The only one left.

Mom expression softened. “Honey.” She sighed. “I know you miss Dad.”

Myles looked away, and then he muttered, “Ava and Ella never even talk about him. Like he never even existed.”

Mom shook her head. “They miss him as well, I promise. Getting lost in their games, it’s just how they deal with it.” She holds the spray bottle in the palm of her hand and stares at it with a wistful expression. “Maybe…well, I’ve been thinking.”

“What about?”

Mom looked at him. “You. About you having a good summer.”

Myles shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“You’re stuck in your room playing video games. You don’t see your friends. And you’re pretty snappy with the girls.”

“I like playing video games,” retorted Myles defensively. “Besides, all my friends are at camp, and the girls are…” He threw up his hands. “They’re just so annoying!”

“You would score some serious points with them if you just played it one time.” She poked gently at the wording on her son’s graphic tee: Best Brother In The Universe.

“They both adore you.”

Myles opened his mouth to disagree.

Mom cut him off with a gesture. “I get it. They’re younger, you’re not into the same things. But I don’t want what happened between me and your dad to ruin your summer.” She went to stroke Myles’ hair but he shrunk away. She looked him in the eye. “Baby, none of this is your fault.”

The boy nodded. “I know.” Even if he didn’t. Even if he didn’t have a clue.

Mom patted his arm. “Why don’t you check the mail for me?”

Myles walked into the bright sunshine and across the concrete. He was tempted to walk over the hopscotch but choosing peace, not war, he walked around it. Still, he rolled his eyes at the girls’ outfits; both of them in dresses as if they were set to go to the fanciest of birthday parties. Mom spoiled them rotten.

“Myles! Myles!” The girls sang his name, drawing out the syllables. My-ulls.

Ignoring them, he walked to the end of the driveway and looked in the mailbox, retrieving a yellow padded envelope and some mailers.

“Play with us, Myles!”

The boy shook his head, but this time he stopped by the chalked diagram long enough to reply, “You think I wanna play princess with you, wear frilly dresses?”

Ava fussed at the skirt of her blue dress and then burst into giggles. “No-oh!”

“How about I grow my hair out and start wearing your bows?”

Ella tilted her face thoughtfully. “Maybe.” She was wearing her hair in two long bunches, tied with shiny bows to match her dress. “I bet Mommy would let you.”

“The answer’s no,” Myles corrected her. “I don’t want dresses and I don’t want bows, and I don’t want to play any of your girly, kiddie games.” He held the envelopes against his chest and then he tapped the side of his head. “So, stop asking.”

Back inside, Myles tossed the mail onto the counter.

“Anything good?” Mom called from upstairs.

Myles leafed through the papers. “Just coupons.” He poked the padded envelope. “You got a package.”

“Oh?” The sound of feet on the stairs. “Is it big?”

Myles shrugged. “Big-ish.” He pressed down on the packet. “It’s squishy. Probably clothes.” He’d already lost interest in the contents. It will be something for the girls, something they begged Mom for. They really did get away with murder. He walked toward the staircase. “Mom, can I-“

“Play video games?” Mom finished for him. “Hold on.” She took Myles’ hand and led him back to the kitchen. “Thing is,” she said, opening the packet. “I really, really want you to have a good summer, just like the girls.”

She pulled the pinkest, most sparkling piece of clothing from the envelope and held it out in front of Myles. “Mmm. You deserve it.” She grinned. “Kinda fun to dress you up, too.”

Myles blinked at his mother. “Excuse me?” She wasn’t serious. Even though, as the dress was held against him, it occurred to Myles that it was much too big for Ava or Ella. He immediately dismissed the idea as anything more than Mom ordering a party dress in the wrong size. Because the alternative was…

He shook his head. It was impossible. And another thought whispered: Too good to be true.

“Hold it up for a second,” Mom said.

Myles took the dress in his hands. “What are you-“ Myles eyes widened as he watched his mother hold up the spray bottle from before. “Mom, what-“

“It’s okay, baby.” Mom gave her son a look that is half-apology, half-excitement.

Myles felt the shock of cold, fizzing wetness as Mom sprayed him in the face.

It’s Ava who saw first, skipping to the home square and then turning. The sight of her brother provoked a gasp, and she lost her footing, landing hard on the driveway. “Ow!”

“Butter feet,” said her older sister.

Ava stays sitting on the ground, rubbing her knee. “Look,” she said simply, pointing with her other hand.

Ella did so. “Oh my gosh…” Her eyes widened, and then her hands covered her mouth. “Omigosh-omigosh-omigosh.”

The girls watch as Mom brought Myles to the hopscotch grid.

Myles kept hold of his mother’s hand and looked down at his hands. He’s dressed in the pink, sparkly dress, white knee socks, and shiny black mary janes.

Mom looked to both of the girls. “Well? What do you think?”

Ella managed to take her hands away from her face. She walked up to Myles and looked him up and down. “I wish I had a dress like that,” she says longingly.

Mom laughed. “Of course you do.” She beckoned Ava over.

The younger sister got to her feet and said softly, “Myles looks…cute.” She nodded.  “I didn’t think he would.” She shrugged. “But he does!”

Ella pointed at Myles’ hair. “I like the bow.” She smiled. “Fuzzy and pink.” She turned to her mother. “Did you use a croco-dile clip?”

Mom laughed. “Alligator clip, but yes. The only way Myles can wear a bow, with his short hair.”

Ella nodded. “If he grows it out,” she said. “Then he could wear ribbons.”

“And pigtails!” Ava offered.

Mom nodded. She watched as Myles raised his head, revealing a dreamy, faraway expression.

“Myles said he didn’t want to dress up,” said Ava, looking bemused.

“I used a little fairy magic,” replied Mom. She smiled. “Well, a little mommy magic.”

Both girls nodded, apparently satisfied with both the change in their older brother, and the explanation from their mother.

“So, what do we do now?” asked Ella. She eyed the numbered grid.

Mom squeezed Myles’ hand. “I think Myles should choose.”

The boy looked at her uncertainly, still dazed. “Mom? Mommy? I’m…”

Mom smiled at her son. “It’s okay, sweetie. You can let go. You can be my sweet little princess all summer long if you want.”

Myles gazed down at his outfit. He was dressed like a girl, and a little girl at that. He was a vision in pink sparkles. What a silly game they were all playing. What a wonderfully silly game! He exhaled, feeling months of tension release from his body and mind.

Myles pointed at the chalked-out grid and asked shyly, “Can we play hopscotch, please?”

He giggled, and his sister giggled as well.

THE END

Myles thinks he's too mature for silly games like hopscotch; his sexist sisters think he needs an attitude adjustment. - Byron