Chapter Text
Jasper Jordan lives with his mother, father, and cat in a detached house in the cool suburbs of a quiet American town. His father teaches at the town’s college, and his mother works a part-time job in the library. There is room between the houses, but not quite as much as Jasper’s dad would’ve liked. His wife loves it though, says it’s cozy, so he settles eventually; over the years, he will grow to love it.
Jasper has always been an excitable kid. His parents had first seen this when he was a toddler, ready to learn to walk. He was so happy to stand on his own two feet that when he actually managed to do just that, he did a little dance and fell on his little bum. They still have it on tape, his parents; Jasper laughing loudly, dancing, and then falling over, their laughter audible in the background. So when it is announced that they are going to have new neighbors (Miss Nancy of number 23, left to their house, had passed away that fall; it was summer now), it is no surprise that their son, seven years old, ends up running laps around the house in excitement, letting out a few battle cries full of energy. When he is done running around, he steps inside, breathing heavily, but beaming ever so bright. He asks if they know who their neighbors are and when they are moving in. His parents tell him that they do not know the answer to his questions, and smile when he sighs. Jasper Jordan goes to sleep that night, wondering if he will make a new friend.
Three days later an unknown car pulls into the driveway next to them. Jasper isn’t there to witness it at the time, because he’s out playing in the park with Fox, but he notices when he gets home. It’s a slick car, shining in the sunlight, gleaming red and oozing an aura Jasper cannot describe but desperately hopes he will have one day; Jasper adores it. He goes inside his house to alarm his mother, who is moving around the kitchen so gracefully it seems like she’s dancing. At the sight of her son, she extends her arm to hand over a bowl of something, and then smiles at his confused look.
„It’s for the new neighbors,” she explains. „What do you say about bringing the welcome gift together?”
„Let’s do it!” Jasper exclaims, his little heart racing in his chest. The last few days he had been up fantasizing about their new neighbors; he’d imagine a mermaid and a hairy pirate, sailing across the sea to find their happily ever after- the mermaid enchanted, of course- and finding it in their small town. He’d imagine a composer and her husband moving in, bringing half an orchestra with them; every night, Jasper would be lulled to sleep to the sounds of quiet violins and horns. He’d imagine an elderly couple, both women and florists, whose son came visiting every week with his wife and baby boy, the smell of pecan pie and coffee apparent every time they’d open their door. He’d imagine an astronaut with seven kids and a small army of dogs. He’d imagine a tired father, a successful mother, and two teenage girls moving in, keeping a tortoise in their backyard, slowly gnawing away at their grass. Jasper’d imagined a lot of things, but not the people opening the door. The woman, Jasper notices, has a friendly shaped face, but quite the stern look. Granted, her look softens visibly when she sees who her visitors are, but Jasper can’t help but feel intimidated. His mother softly pushes her hand agains his shoulder blade, encouraging him to take a small step forward, which he does.
„Good afternoon, ma’am,” he says politely, „we’d like to give you this welcome gift.” He holds out both hands and arms, looking at the woman until she accepts the food-filled bowl.
„We hope you’ll feel at home soon,” Jasper’s mother adds, reaching out to shake the hand of the new neighbor. „I’m Norah Jordan, from next-door. This is my son,” she puts her hand on Jasper’s shoulder, „Jasper.”
The woman moves to shake Norah’s hand, a small smile spreading across her face.
„Hannah Green,” she introduces herself. „I’m sure we’ll feel at home soon.” She then crouches, getting at eye-level with Jasper.
„How old are you, Jasper?” she ask, and her eyes seem friendly.
„Seven,” Jasper answers proudly, sticking out seven fingers. Hannah smiles, brightly.
„I have a son your age,” she tells both Jordans, „maybe you’ll get along.”
Weirdly enough it takes two weeks for the two boys to meet. In between occasional visits the Green family hasn’t quite settled in yet; it’s a messy, hectic time for all of them. Hannah Green knows really leaving things behind takes time, and as they bought the house in a flurry, Hannah hadn’t managed to get off of work, which meant that they could only drive to their new home on her free days. It takes some time, but after two weeks, the Greens are finally ready to settle.
Jasper is looking out their kitchen window, as he has done for the last two weeks now. Two weeks ago, they had met their new neighbor, who had told them she had a son his age. This meant that his chance of making a new friend was arguably bigger than before. This also meant that Jasper grew more impatient with every passing day, getting more restless every minute. He is filled with jitters, even as he’s playing outside with the other kids from the neighborhood. Fox looks at him curiously as she hangs upside down, while Harper merely shoots him one look before going back to chasing Bryan. They all notice the change in energy. They all know Jasper as a smiley, energetic kid, sometimes even restless, but he is friendly and laughs a lot, so they don’t mind. This time, however, it does not feel like it’s his usual energy rush seeping out; it feels more like anticipation. Jasper is flailing more than usual and can’t stop bouncing up and down.
„Ugh,” he eventually lets out, whilst laying down on his back, limbs spread out wide, „I wonder when they are coming.”
„Family?” Bryan guesses, and Jasper shakes his head.
„New neighbors,” Jasper replies. „They were here two weeks ago, but not really since then, and there’s only three weeks of summer left, and I really want to meet them!”
„So you’re getting new neighbors?” Fox swings off the climbing frame. „Cool!”
„I’m also getting new neighbors,” Harper announces, „mum says they have a girl and a little boy, and a dog. They are moving in next week.”
The sun is hitting the blinds as Jasper sees a raven haired boy walk by. He’s carrying a box in his hands and makes his way to number 23, the house in which Miss Nancy used to live. Jasper bounces, makes his way out of the kitchen.
„Where are you going?” asks his father, rather surprised to see that his son has finally moved.
„I think I saw them!” Jasper exclaims excitedly. „Can I go visit?”
His father and mother share a look before settling on an answer.
„We should offer to help,” Norah says thoughtfully, more to her husband than to her son. „You think you can handle a few boxes?” She looks at Jasper, who’s already putting on his shoes.
„Yes mum!” He climbs to his feet so rapidly he almost trips, arms flailing. His face is split by his grin. Jasper’s parents take their time to get ready, not hurrying, but not being particularly slow either. By the time they are ready, their son is already waiting at the front door, giddy.
Monty almost drops the box he’s holding when he hears unfamiliar voices.
„This one goes upstairs?” It sounds like a boy’s voice, not a teen yet.
„Just take it inside,” instructs another voice, warm and smooth, like honey. It’s a woman’s voice he doesn’t recognize.
„Okay,” chirps the boy before Monty sees him. He puts down the box next to the stairs, turns around only to be faced by a grinning boy. His hair is sticking out in every direction, not quite curly but definitely not straight either. The boy shakes with his head to get a strand of hair out of his eyes, stacks the box in his hands on top of the one Monty just put down, and then sticks out his hand.
„Heya,” he says, eying Monty. Monty looks for his parents, but doesn’t see them anywhere. He would’ve asked them what to do, but that clearly isn’t an option now. The boy is not moving.
„Hello,” says Monty eventually, evoking an enthusiastic reaction from the other boy.
„I’m Jasper,” says the boy, sticking out his hand while his grin threatens to crack his face open. „I live next door. We’ve come to help you move!”
Monty finds that this explains a lot.
„My name’s Monty,” he says, shaking Jasper’s hand. „Thank you for helping.”
„No problem!” Jasper bounces while Monty’s mother enters the house, followed by a strange man.
„Let’s get back to work, lads,” says the man. Jasper turns around like a whirlwind.
„Yes dad, sir yes sir!” And off he goes.
„Hello,” says Monty politely, albeit a bit cautious. It is always hard to estimate how you have to behave when you do not know people. He fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie.
„Hi there,” the older man says, „you must be Monty. I’m Joseph Eric Jordan, Jasper’s father.”
Monty nods.
„Nice to meet you, sir.”
„No need to call me sir,” Joseph smiles, „let’s get your things inside, yeah?”
Monty nods again, and off they go.
The next day, Jasper drops by. It is Monty’s mother who opens the door, draped in a green dress made of a soft-looking material. She looks like a deity.
„Hey Jasper,” she says when she recognizes the small boy standing before her, face flustered and hair sticking in every direction. His hands are twitching nervously at the hem of his shirt, which has navy sleeves and a picture from some kind of tv-show on its white body.
„Ma’am,” he says, all nerves. His eyes glance from her face to the space behind her head, into the house, an back to her face. „Ehm, Miss Green, I was wondering if Monty’s home?”
„You can call me Hannah,” Monty’s mum says, „I’ll go get him. Just a moment.”
„Yes ma’am,” Jasper flushes when he realizes that he’s just called Monty’s mother ‚ma’am’ again. There’s no taking it back, nor is there any time for recovery; Hannah Green has already disappeared inside. Jasper patiently waits outside, whistling a tune from the top of his mind. He gets so lost in it that he is surprised when a voice greets him.
„Hello?” It comes out more of a question than Monty intends. The boy in front of him stops whistling, visibly surprised. His eyes are big, looking up from under his wispy brown fringe. It takes a moment for the boy to answer, but Monty doesn’t mind. He likes his shirt. There are Pokémon on it. Monty thinks they could be friends. Monty thinks he’d like it if they became friends.
„Hey,” his grin is big. One of the first things Monty notices is that it’s the kind of grin that splits your face; it’s the expression he had seen the day before, worn by the same kid. The boy looks happy.
„Do you want to come inside?” Monty asks, inviting his neighbor in. Jasper nods, taking a step forward. Boxes are stacked on top of one another in the hallway, some unpacked, some still sealed. The house looks nothing like when Miss Nancy still lived there. The floral patterns have disappeared, even though the warmth still surrounds the boys. Jasper’s eyes are wide as he walks into the kitchen. It’s almost as Miss Nancy left it; wooden cupboards, an old toaster, the weird framed sketch of disappearing stairs that used to terrify every neighborhood kid stopping by, it’s all still there. There’s a fruit bowl filled with fresh fruit on the countertop, a new fridge, a vase of flowers, all new. Even tho the Green family hasn’t been there for a full week, the house already feels lived in. It is not the same as when Miss Nancy lived there, in a way Jasper cannot describe, but it somehow feels right. Even the sketch feels less threatening now that there’s a vase filled with an enormous bouquet in front of it.
„My dad makes the best milkshakes,” says Monty, snapping Jasper out of his thoughts. Monty rummages through the refrigerator before he pulls out a pitcher. „I like his chocolate ones best.”
Jasper blinks, slowly processing the new information, looking at the boy standing before him. There’s only one thought thrumming through his mind. We could be friends.
„Yeah,” he says, then shakes his head, laughing at his own answer, „I like chocolate. I like strawberry as well, and banana, and-„
„-every possible flavor?” Monty finishes, questioningly.
„Well, I had this pistachio one once,” Jasper says, „that one I didn’t like.”
„You’ll love this one,” Monty says, pouring Jasper a glass of the orange flavored milkshake. He puts in a straw, the one that is his and his favorite: blue and see-through, with a crazy twist in it. It is a token, a signal out in the open. He hopes that Jasper notices.
Jasper notices.