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Tim didn't trust the new kid.
"I don't think this is a good idea, Sash. What if he bites?"
Tim took Sasha's hand in his, allowing their footsteps to fall into rhythm with the other's.
"Bites who? You?" She laughed. "...what if he's rabid?"
“Maybe he is!” Tim yelled, his eyes going wide and his mouth staying open as he stared. He looked dumbfounded.
Sasha giggled at the face her friend was making. She pulled Tim up the driveway and onto the porch by his hand.
As Sasha rang the doorbell, he groaned. “He was reading my favorite book when we saw him yesterday. Give him a chance."
Tim drew his hand away from Sasha, crossed his arms, and waited.
He briefly wondered if he would be able to escape in time, should he attempt to ditch Sasha.
The door swung open.
The foyer was littered with cardboard boxes. An old lady stood in the doorway, looking down at them. She arched her eyebrow.
“Hi! Do you have a kid?" Sasha smiled.
The woman took a slow breath.
"Jon!" she yelled over her shoulder, into the house.
The sound that followed was akin to someone falling down a flight of stairs.
Tim watched Sasha's face light up when she saw the boy she had seen. Jon.
"Go away. I have to unpack."
"I need my book," the boy murmured. He turned around and sped back into the cluttered house. When he returned, he was hugging three books to his chest.
The woman pushed him outside by his shoulder. "Don't let him wander off."
Sasha grinned, not bothering to ponder on that request. "Yes, ma'am!"
"Yes, ma'am," Tim parroted, albeit quieter. He was too busy trying to read the side of one of the boxes that had words scrawled across it with a permanent marker.
The door was slammed in their faces before Tim could finish reading.
The three of them stared at each other for a moment.
“Your mom’s mean,” Tim commented.
Jon hummed dismissively as he walked away from the door.
Tim and Sasha hesitantly moved to catch up with Jon after a moment of watching him walk away.
“She’s not my mom,” Jon muttered.
“…oh. What books are those?” Tim asked, trying to strike up a conversation.
He glanced at Sasha. Giving him a chance.
“Dunno. My grandma just buys ‘em for me. I get bored fast, so I always need new ones.” Jon shifted his gaze away from the book covers, instead focusing the kids he was walking with. “My name’s Jonathan, by the way… Jon.”
"I'm Tim." Tim extended his hand. Jon seemed to purposefully dodge it though, veering out of the way to continue walking instead.
"My name is Sasha." Her friendly greeting was nothing more than an awkward smile.
“What’s this way?” Jon asked, tilting his head ever so slightly in the direction of a side street.
“My house!” Tim shouted. “And Sash’s. She lives across the street from me.”
“We have a hidden treehouse too. We can't tell Danny though.”
“My brother,” Tim clarified.
“He loves climbing things but he’s still a little kid. He can probably climb up when he's a little older..." Sasha trailed off.
“Yeah, once he’s an acrobat and in the circus,” Tim laughed.
Sasha leaned on Tim’s shoulder then, watching Jon as they all continued walking.
“…oh,” Jon breathed. “You seem like you’re... friends.”
“Oh, yeah. We’ve been in classes together since forever,” Tim said.
“…ah.” Jon glanced around. “Do you have any… other friends?” He wasn’t convinced he was doing this whole “making friends” thing correctly.
“We’ve got Martin. But his mom said he couldn’t come outside today,” Tim answered.
“Is she mean?” Jon blurted. “His mom,” he added. Tim had said that Jon’s grandmother was mean so maybe Martin’s mom served as an… explanation of sorts.
“Well, she doesn’t like our treehouse... so...” Tim shrugged.
“…is Martin nice?” Jon asked. Was he talking too much?
“Mhm… he likes animals," Tim said.
“And he writes a lot,” Sasha added.
Jon hummed. He liked those things too. Though, he did prefer to read.
He wanted to read.
“…may I see your treehouse?”
Tim and Sasha’s faces lit up.
“Yeah!” Tim shouted.
Sasha and Tim took off running. “C’mon!” Sasha yelled back at Jon.
Jon sped up, holding his books tighter to his chest.
He soon had to start sprinting. He was definitely out of practice.
Sasha and Tim slowed down when they hit the edge of a wooded area.
Jon followed, trying to catch his breath as the other two fought their way through bushes and dead leaves.
Sasha pointed out poison ivy every few minutes.
“Poison ivy, don’t touch.”
“Okay.”
Tim also tried to mumble something close to an affirmation, but was much too busy searching the ground to say anything else.
“Aha!” Tim exclaimed, squatting down to pick up a stick that was only slightly taller than him. “New staff! Sash, want half?”
“Yes!”
Tim dropped the stick back to the ground, stepping on the middle. He grabbed one side and pulled until it eventually split in half. He gave one side to Sasha.
“Here, Jon. This is the hideout,” Sasha said, pointing with her new staff.
“Can… we go up?” Jon asked, his voice slow.
Tim was quick to rest his staff against the base of the tree and begin to scale the shaky rope ladder.
Jon could hear quiet mumbling as soon as Tim reached the top of the ladder.
“Martin’s up here!” he yelled down.
“Martin?!” Sasha asked. She seemed excited.
“Hi!” a disembodied voice called. Jon assumed that was Martin.
Jon shifted uncomfortably. He was out of place.
“Throw your books up, Jon!” Tim appeared in the “doorway.” He was laid on his stomach and held his arms over the edge of the ladder, reaching out.
Jon just shook his head.
“I’ll hold them for you.” Sasha said. “I can climb while holding ‘em.” She smiled.
“Are you sure?” Jon asked. “You won’t fall?”
Sasha nodded. “I’ve got it. Promise.” She winked.
Jon handed the stack of books over, hesitant.
Sasha held them close.
Jon stared at the ladder. “I um…”
“Scared?” Whether that question was mocking or genuine, Jon didn’t know.
Jon froze. “No! Just…” Jon shook his head. He stepped onto the first rung of the ladder, climbing up and ignoring the vertigo.
He was panting by the time he threw himself into the treehouse. He tucked himself into a corner.
Sasha showed up a moment later, sliding Jon’s books across the floor to him.
“Hey, Martin! I thought you couldn’t come outside today,” Sasha said, taking a seat next to Jon.
“I can’t.” Martin shrugged, flipping to a page of his notebook.
Jon furrowed his eyebrows. He was studying the kid with strawberry-blond hair and round pink glasses.
Was Jon normal for repeatedly running away, if Martin did it too?
The treehouse went painfully silent.
“I’m Jon… by the way.”
“I’m Martin… you’re the new kid, right?”
“…yeah. I just moved here with my grandmother. She told me to leave so she could unpack so m’here now.”
“Lucky. My mom doesn’t let me leave a lot…”
Jon shifted uncomfortably. “Uh… you like writing?”
“Mhm… you like reading?”
“…yeah.”