Fruit of Summer

Young love is a common thing, but its a miracle each time. It touches every young person, without a doubt, and each time in such a different and beautiful way. Sometimes, they wouldn't even expect it. They'd even shy away. But never the less, it comes to everyone and it stays in memories for a lifetime. It almost seemed like a lifetime ago to Billie. He was only seventeen then, after all. He hated the idea of spending the summer at his aunt and uncle's house in the country. He knew they'd put him to work every day. He knew that he would spend the whole time complaining. And he knew that they didn't listen to a word he said. He was right of course.

They put him to work right away, although much to his relief, they told him to keep away from the livestock. How would anyone ever forget the infamous cow incident from last year? This year, they put him out in the fields. It was hot, it was sunny and sweaty and it was dull. Picking strawberries, they told him. Only the ripe ones, only the juicy looking ones. And if he ate any for himself, they told him they'd set the old Labrador on him. The old Labrador was insane and vicious. So Billie grudgingly did as he was told, slaving away for a week and a half in the strawberry fields, melting away and dying of hunger.

By Wednesday of his second week, Billie Joe was ready to run away. He would have, except he knew nothing about the area and the neighbors would have turned him in anyway. He hated it. It wasn't like the city where everyone just left you alone. Everyone had to stuff their faces into everyone else's business. Like a disease. Every morning when he went out to the fields, he always caught someone or the other staring. They'd ask him if he was Lissie and John's nephew and he'd nod yes. They'd ask him what a city boy like him was doing way out in the country. He'd tell them it was vacation. They'd keep badgering him until he threw a stone and then they'd tell Aunt Lissie.

Billie expected it to happen again on that particular Wednesday. He saw a boy, about his age, leaning against the scarecrow in someone else's farm, looking at him. Billie Joe looked back. He was waiting for the boy to open his mouth, but he never did. Billie Joe went back to work, still feeling this boy staring at his neck every time he bent over to pick a berry. After about twenty minutes, he couldn't stand it anymore. Curling a smooth stone from the ground into his fist, Billie looked straight up at the boy. The boy just looked back.

"What's your problem?" he yelled towards the scarecrow, still twisting the stone in his hand. The boy shrugged and smiled. "Can you hear me? I asked you what the hell your problem is, staring at me like a freaking zombie!"

The boy finally yelled back "My name's Frank!"

Billie Joe rolled his eyes and went back to work. But the hairs on the back of his neck told him that Frank was still looking. It was unnerving to say the least. When he could stand it no longer, he turned back around to see him still leaning against the scarecrow, happily chewing a bar of chocolate.

"You want some?" He yelled across. Billie Joe shrugged in response. He supposed Frank took this as a yes, considering he made his way over to Billie, tripping over several rows of plants in the way. "Hey," he greeted Billie as soon as he was within earshot.

"Uh...hi?"

"My name's Frank."

"I know." Billie Joe bent down again to examine the next bush.

Frank followed him. "What's your name?"

"Billie Joe," he replied without even looking up. He continued walking and Frank continued to follow him. He picked berries and Frank stood behind him, watching. He couldn't complain at first, seeing how Frank was providing him with excellent shade and making his work easier but the rudeness of the city began to bubble within him until he could stand it no more. "Listen Frank, if you want something from me, say it. 'Cause no one's forcing you to stand around and stare at me until your pretty-boy blue eyes pop out." Billie had pulled himself to his full height, staring at Frank right in the blue eyes he'd just mentioned.

Frank smiled. "Thank you."

It was Billie Joe's turn to stare. "For what? I just insulted you. I told you to get lost!" His temper was rising. "Are you retarded?!" He was all but shouting.

Frank continued to smile, like he had a secret. "You said my eyes were pretty." He crumpled up the candy wrapper in his palm. "I like your eyes too."

The city boy was beyond shocked now. He was damn near speechless; he couldn't even yell. "Are you retarded?" he asked in an awed whisper. And somehow, he wasn't surprised when this new known stranger shrugged and smiled.

"I can help you with that, you know."

Billie Joe regained his composure in time to respond. "You don't have to." He bent down again, checking his watch.

"I want to." Frank was, of course, still following Billie.

The latter didn't bother to look up or raise his voice again. "Why?"

"I like you."

That, at last, made him look up again. Pushing his cart out of the way, Billie Joe dropped himself to the ground with his legs in a neat line before him and looked up at Frank. "What?"

Frank sat down as well, crossing his legs beneath him. "I like you, Billie Joe, and your pretty green eyes."

Billie Joe blinked a few times before staring curiously with his pretty green eyes, wondering. He had run out of things to say and ways to get Frank away. Maybe it was because he’d never had anyone around to keep him company before. Maybe it was just strange that someone around here wanted to keep him company. Stranger still was that Billie Joe suddenly didn't want Frank to go away anymore.