**_Oswald (Age 6)

_**

“OSWALD ALEXANDER BURTROM! If you don’t get your behind in here you won’t be getting any apple pie!”

Mum is angry at the moment, not that I did anything wrong, OKAY! I just didn’t clean up my best.

“Muuuuumm,” I moan, walking back to the kitchen glumly, “I’m tired, though!”

My mum is there, standing above my discarded and forgotten pile of wood shavings. Her dark brown face is pulled in a frown, her usually calm muted orange eyes angered and irritated. She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “I wish Harold would have never taught you carving, dear Lord, help me.”

I waddle, trying my best to look innocent and helpless as I pick up the biggest shards one by one. “Mummy—“

“Don’t ‘Mummy’ me, little boy. You know what you did,” she snaps.

Man, I didn’t know she was _that_ mad. It’s only wood shavings. Best to tread carefully. “But Mum, how am I going to pick up the smaller stuff? The broom’s to big for me.”

Mum sighs, “Yes, I’ll—I’ll do that, dear.”

I chirp my thanks, wood chips in my hand, and make my way outside to deposit them. I’ve exited from the beast—I look up and spot Rayburn from over the fence—now time to reap my reward.

I toss the wood chips out of my hand and start to climb the fence. I need to be as theatric as possible to gain and hold Rayburn’s attention, or else he’ll just walk away and lock himself in his room. Just as I want, his looks up at me when I shout his name. Rayburn screeches, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

I plop on my bottom after missing a footing. Rayburn starts towards me, hands outstretched as though he wants to help, but then reconsiders it, putting them in his pocket. I get up quickly and dust my butt off. “I came to see you, Ray.”

“Don’t call me that.” Oops, he’s back in his bad mood again. Or maybe that’s just his normal mood. It must be exhausting to be grumpy all the time.

“Sorry, Ray-Rayburn,” I correct myself when he starts to turn away, “Wait! Wait. You wanna go and do something fun?”

He stops at the word fun. Rayburn turns to me, eyes curious. “What do you mean?”

There we go!

I grab his arm and pull him to me. “I know a secret place outside the forest—“

“Ah,” he interrupts, “No.”

His arm is gone from my hand and he’s already up the stairs and into his aunt’s farmhouse. That quick? “Hey! Raaay!” I dash after him before he closes the door.

“DON’T CALL ME RAY! MY NAME IS RAYBURN!”

***

**_Rayburn (Age 6)_**

“Just because you gave me apple pie, doesn’t mean we’re friends,” I mutter, stuffing another slice of buttery crust and chunking apple filling into my mouth, “We are _not_ friends.”

Oswald is beside me, already finish with his slice and feeding his little sister, Penelope, the rest of hers. “Yes, we are,” he says this like it’s obvious, “If we weren’t, you wouldn’t be here eating my Mum’s apple pie.”

I blink. He makes a good point. “Uhm…well….”

Oswald smiles and pokes my in my cheek. “So we are friends, Ray!”

I shove him. “RAYBURN! My name is RAYBURN!”

Penelope claps and cheers, her face covered in apple jam. “Ray-Bun! Ray-Bun!”

***

**_Rayburn (Age 7)_**

“You don’t know how to swim?” Oliver gawks at me like I’m a strange creature. “Is that something that all city folk don’t know how to do?”

An older boy behind me, Harvey I think, laughs and claps the back of his chaps. “Of course he doesn’t know how to swim,” he points at me, “look at those skinny little limbs he has.”

My face turns a bright red at his statement. I wring my hands together and step away from the lake, where other boys and girls, older and young, are staring at me.

A warm hand lands on my back, patting me in a comforting way. I find myself leaning into the touch. “I’ll teach you, Ray.”

I don’t correct Oswald this time. It’s been a year of this nonsense; it’s better to just let it happen.

I step away from him, noticing his brown eyes on me. Everyone else is back to chatting with each other, except Oliver who is still gaping at me, brown hair strewn across his forehead, and have forgotten about us. Harvey is throwing me some chilling glances though.

“I don’t think I want to do that, Oswald.”

He steps towards me. “Come on, Ray, it’s easy once you get it.”

I glance over at the other children. “Isn’t this illegal; shouldn’t we have an adult with us?”

Oliver snaps out of his gaze and swipes his hair back. “Nope,” he says proudly, smiling, exposing his missing top teeth, “out here in the country, everybody knows everybody. So we’ll be fine.”

Oswald nods. “Yeah, Ray, we’ll be okay.” Then he takes off his shirt. Oliver does the same.

“Uhm…? What is—“

Oliver runs to the lake and leaps. “WEEEE!” Splash! The boys cheer and the girls shriek as the water splashes almost everyone.

Oswald is still beside me, tugging the hem of my shirt. “Come on, Ray.”

Eyes wide, I shake my head. “No.”

“You don’t have to do—“

“No.”

“But—“

“NO!”

“I’ll convince my mum to make apple pie.”

I blink, distracted momentarily, but enough, that Oswald pulls my shirt up to my head. I have no choice but to lift my arms so he can take it all the way off. He tosses our shirts to a nearby tree, giving me a bright smile.

“Really?” I lick my lips, just thinking of the taste. “You mean it.”

“Of course, when have I lied to you?”

“Well then,” I straighten my back to try and give myself more confidence, “teach me how to swim then.”

***

**_Oswald (Age 14)_**

Rayburn is on his bed, sketching something that looks kind of like a potato. I ask him it my assumption is right.

He frowns at me. “No, it’s a face.”

I look at it again and shake my head. “That, my dear Ray, is a potato.”

“Well then, you’re a potato.”

“Hmm?” I cock my head to the side. “Why.”

Rayburn turns a startling shade of red. “Because it’s you.”

It’s a long time before I can stop myself from laughing.

***

_(Bleh! Procrastination makes progress; on the wrong thing! Thanks for reading and have a good day!)_