Fruit of Summer

Frank met Billie Joe in the field almost every day. Every day, he would run across with a chocolate bar in hand, snapping it in half and offering a piece to Billie Joe. Every day, Billie Joe would hestitantly take the chocolate and grudgingly let a smile spread over his face.

And after a few days, the smile didn’t have to fight its way out. For once, Billie Joe’s summer didn’t seem so bad; he had a friend to share his time with. He got chocolate every day (always a bonus) and sometimes, Frank helped him and he got to rest. But most of all, he had company. There was always a constant chattering in the background as Billie worked.

Frank would tell him about what school was like in town, what the teachers were like, what the bullies were like. He would talk about what the girls in town were like, and when he did, there was an especially sly tone to his voice. Billie couldn’t help but smirk. The country didn’t seem so miles away from the universe when Frank talked about it. The bullies said the same things, punched people the same way. The teachers yelled exactly the same and the classes were just as boring.

But Billie got the impression that the girls were twice as pretty. Or maybe it was just the way Frank spoke. Either way, he wanted to know more. Frank had told him that every summer, some of the girls would sit by the lake eating ice cream every day and twitter about “Lissie’s nephew”. Considering his romantic status back in the city, Billie considered this a very promising change.

“I’ll take you to the lake sometime,” Frank said one afternoon while they were resting in the scarecrow’s shade. “You can spend the day with all the doe-eyes who can’t stop staring at you. And you can share with me.” There was no mistaking the playful smirk in his voice.

Billie Joe couldn’t help but smirk himself. “I wouldn’t know what to do though, y’know?” Frank said nothing. “I’m not exactly charming or whatever.” He thought back to his last girlfriend. She dumped him. On Valentine’s Day. After he spent the previous night making an elaborate card to attach the stuffed bear he bought her.

Frank was silent for a while. “You seem plenty charming to me.”

“Shut up,” Billie laughed and punched his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously. I haven’t been on a date since the ninth grade. I’d be lost to find a bunch of pretty girls staring at me. To find anybody staring at me, actually. Well, except you. But you’re just weird.”

Frank was quiet again. He was unusually quiet that day, actually. “I have to go, Bill,” he said suddenly, getting up. He offered his hand to Billie and pulled him up as well.

Though it had barely been a week, the city boy was surprised. “But you only leave around dinnertime.”

“Yeah. I have this thing to do.” That was it. Nothing else. Frank usually volunteered details whether you wanted them or not and his newly taciturn demeanor was even a bit disturbing to Billie Joe. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Ask your aunt and uncle if you can have a day off.”

Frank began to walk across the field, back towards his own house leaving Billie standing there with his mouth slightly open. If Billie Joe had waited just another second before turning back to his strawberries, he would seen Frank’s brisk walk evolving into an unstoppable run. But he didn’t see and so he couldn’t think about it. For a few minutes, he thought about what Frank’s “thing” was as he worked. In the end, he decided not to dwell on it, turning his thoughts to tomorrow and the possibility of a lakeshore full of flirty country girls.