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Being sat down bright in the morning in a camper van to discuss the missed joys of childhood was no new thing for Richie. The initial hard-pass on the “weird and quirky nonsense” that is (was?) Richie’s perceived notion of childhood had now mellowed into a gentle “maybe”. Still haven’t felt all the feels, whatever the hell that means, but so far most of what Audrey, Dot, and Lotta had exposed Richie to was fun and exciting.
Naturally, though, with being taught about childhood, feelings arise.
Now, Richie Rich doesn’t do feelings. Really, when he’d gone off to explore what he missed out on childhood, he didn’t expect it to involve this much emotion. He also didn’t expect it to involve saving a block from evil robots (seriously, who knew robots could be evil?), so by now Richie’s just going with the flow of things. The ebb and sway of being thousands of miles from his parents (unlikely they know he’s gone) and being the only boy in a female friend group.
Dot sat Richie down in one of the various beanbags and forewarned him: “This conversation contains talking about feelings, crushes, crushdom, being in like-like, and potentially unlocking a crush.” Not that Richie understood or cared when she first “warned” him, I mean, it’s just a talk about crushes. Richie know what a crush is, he’s more of a pre-teen billionaire rather than a child one, but he asked his marketing team and they agreed that ‘Child Billionaire’ sells better.
“Any thoughts?”
And that’s when Richie realized he hadn’t been listening to a single thing they were saying. Hey, listening was still not his strong suit—sure that weird and quirky game about the mystery noogie-man was a good practice run, but Riche still didn’t get it fully.
“Well, yes, Harvey Girls, I think we should move onto the next part of the childhood experience, maybe one without the C-word?”
But Dot’s rolling eyes meant that Richie wouldn’t be getting out of this one easily. Or judging by Audrey’s frown: at all.
“Richie, crushes are perfectly healthy and completely normal for human development,” Dot supplies, with a glance at Audrey. “There are many benefits to crushes, such as developing emotional intelligence. You know. Like.. listening to others? Eh?”
“Wow, that is an amazing piece of information that I will be forgetting, Dot! Instead of using crushes to develop all that intelligent emotion stuff, we could continue my childhoodification in less feelings-y ways, like what Audrey was talking about—something about—“
”Richie, none of Audrey’s ideas are suitable for kids under the age of 12, so take it off the table.” Dot interrupts.
Lotta smiled awkwardly, thinking to herself for just a moment. “Right! And less, uh, science-y ways to explain it: a crush is when you really like someone, someone who makes you happy and a bit shy! Mrs. Bloodsworth feels all giddy and excited about everything!”
Sighing, Richie shook his head and slumped into the bean bag. “Sorry, girls, I just don’t see how any of this is useful. And I think that I’d be much happier becoming the first lifestyle brand in space rather than having a crush. How do you even get one? Wait, don’t answer that, the internet has my back!” He sits up and drags his phone from his pocket.
Though Dot takes it from him and toss it behind her. “You said you wanted an immersive childhood experience, Richie, and the internet does not have your back.”
“Counter argument, Dot: it does. And you don’t need a crush to succeed, just look at me, I have over ‘a million RightNow-O-Gram friends and, like, tons of robot friends! Not a single crush to date. That and my mom and dad didn’t have crushes on each other, so this is all really new to me.” Richie stands, kneeling by Dot to grab his phone and pull up a photo. Tilting the screen to the girls, a picture of a man and woman standing awkwardly at an altar met their eyes. “See? I’ll be fine!”
“That’s… we’ll touch that later, Rich, but Lotta and Dot are right! Crushes are crushing important!” Audrey waves her hands enthusiastically when she speaks, and maybe-not-so-accidentally knocks Richie’s phone away. “All ya gotta do is get to know some girl and liiiisten to her! Y’know, like if she talks about science all the time it helps you pass your tests more. And when she’s happy, you’re happy! When she laughs, your tummy gets all fizzy like you’ve drank a whole bottle of soda.”
”Uh. That sounds uncomfortable, have you tried antacids?.” Is Richie’s response, paired with nervous laughter and a quick eye dart away. He doesn’t know much about liking people and this is starting to approach territory Richie doesn’t want to venture.
“Anta—what-icids?”
“Antacids, Audrey, it’s medicine to neutralize stomach acids to stop heartburn and indigestion.”
“See? And with that, I am out, Harvey Girls! I’ve got to make friends with everyone else on Harvey street and this crush talk is not Rich brand. I posted thrice during this conversation and it’s not front page, so, I’ll see you after I find something else childhood-y to pursue!”
When the door shut, all three girls groaned collectively. “That was enlightening.” Dot shrugged. Lotta patted her shoulder and offer a gentle smile. “Maybe we should just let Richie be? My first crush on Gerald wasn’t easy. And.. Richie is the only boy in our friend group. It must be tough sometimes.”
Though, up above, in that lonely sky-mansion, Richie sat at a marble counter, stabbing a fork into a slice of triple-cream gouda cheesecake. “Crushes.” the word was muttered with the disgust he normally saved for his parents anniversary. “How necessarily complicated. Right, Dollar?” But the dog curled at Richie’s feet didn’t stir at his voice.
Thus, for a while, it was ignored. The C-word which shall never be spoken of.
Richie managed to let it escape his mind, instead focusing on befriending the other kids on Harvey Street. Among other things…(he’s still deleting the 245,045 Tweets he posted about Marco, Stu, and how horrible that Like-Off went).
So, when Richie realized that he wasn’t friends with the Bloogey Boys like he was with others (looking and making fun of gross fashion choices with Frufru, playing uke with that kid from Austland that he can never remember the name of, and suffering—yes, suffering—through playing with dolls of the Harvey Girls with Lucretia, seriously, what is her deal?) he had a problem.
But the girls were having a yard sale and thus it was a solo mission.
And so far, dangling from the claw of his mansion to see the boys where they reside, it’s not swell.
“Good morning, potential friends! I know we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, and by that I mean that ‘meh’ you gave me, hah, must’ve been a prank, I hear you guys are good for those—but I’m here to plead my case about our future bonding!” But boys weren’t won over the same way business executives are, and Richie hasn’t let learned this.
“Uh.. You’re Ritchie? No, wait. Richy. Richard?” Melvin mumbled, squinting at Richie, as if trying to connect name to a face he didn’t care about,
“It’s Richie, actually,” Richie corrected, looking utterly unbothered by the mistake.
“Whatever, Reggie,” Melvin shrugged, causing Richie to giggle nervously.
“…Riiight.”
The awkward silence that followed that was physically painful. The Bloogies gave each other a look that said a million things. Mostly: Who is this guy? Why is he? Was he sent by the Harvey Girls to spy?
“So… do you need something?” Melvin inquired, but not without looking at Fredo, who just shrugged.
“Well, uh, I’ve composed a list of things to help us have an epic Bloogey bromance—“
”Eugh, please never say that again.”
“Noted!” Richie smiled. “See, we’ve accomplished so much already!”
Unfortunately, Richie’s sentiments weren’t shared. He was an oblivious fuck most of the time, but even he can tell when a conversation isn’t working out. No other way to survive the business world before 13 than reading the room. Or the statistics and the statistics never lie. Therefore Richie turned to the next best thing: math.
“Hey, if you run the numbers—“
“Numbers?” Fredo interjects. “Woah, Richie, during summer we don’t talk about the M-word.”
“M-word? Math?” Richie wonders, eyeing the boys. He’d been given some information by Dot to help him going into this new territory. Melvin doesn’t like math, or, like, by extensions the boys don’t like math. All three. Richie’s not going to lie.. he stopped listening after Dot stopped talking about Melvin.
Richie’s hand around the rope tightened. It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with the Bloogey boys, they were in that welcome pamphlet Dot gave him. He knew they were.. less than cleanly, that they were super close and that it may be difficult to befriend them. But Richie was determined. He’d reach hugging panda status with the Bloogies if it was the last thing he ever did.
Melvin arched an eyebrow at Richie, confusion laced in his gaze. He hadn’t cared when Richie arrived on Harvey Street, cared lass that he was staying. All he needed was Fredo and Pinkeye and he was set. And Richie was.. odd, well, to say the very least. Obviously he’s eccentric and adorably clueless sometimes. It’s hard to not run into him or a conversation about him. But Melvin is apathetic and hard to newcomers.
He wanted to send Richie away, to tell him to screw off. He glanced at Fredo, who shrugged, and at Pinkeye, who jut his lip for a second. But Richie’s deep brown eyes were smiling at him and even though he was smiling awkwardly, he was smiling. He tilted his head to the left when the wind hit his face, though his eyes stayed on Melvin. Melvin’s scowled deepened when he felt his face heat with blush. But he’ll blame it on wearing a jacket in summer before he admits anything. With a final look at Fred and Pinkeye, Melvin sighed and turned to Richie.
With a final nod, melvin clapped his hands together and sighed out, “Listen, Ricky, you’re.. nice and all, but…. We’ll pass.”
“Pass? But, we’ve—“
“Well, if you’re gonna beg, there might be just one tiny thing we can do.” Melvin’s grin was a huge reason to decline. To give up the mission and instead crawl back to the Harvey Girls and understands that he can’t be perfect at everything. That this will be the one minor blotch on his perfect record—well, aside from Marco and the Marco-Stu incident. And, yes, Melvin’s smirk was bad news but it was also enticing. Melvin’s always had that boyish, trickster charm. Not someone to trust at all but if there’s one thing he can promise it’s an adventure.
“Yeah, sure, anything!” Richie readily agreed, nodding along to his words as if to affirm even more he’s up for anything at all as long as Melvin’s there.
Though Richie’s smile dimmed into a lost frown when Melvin’s eyes grew dark, and he looked back over at Fredo and Pinkeye. “Be our target for spitball practice.”
It took Richie a second to even register what Melvin had said. “Are we sure? That— that seems gross.”
“Sure, it’s fun! And afterwards we can draw comics that you’ll get to mass produce.” Fredo laughed, bumping his elbow against Pinkeye, who chuckled along.
“Um, if you say so.” Richie added anxiously. He watched the three boys whisper to each other and laugh, knowing full well he was the butt of the joke. And strangely, he didn’t mind so much. This was progress, he’ll be their friend in no time.
Melvin tossed a shit-eating grin back at Richie over his shoulder, his eyes trailing up and down. That might’ve been the moment Richie realized he was a goner.
The Bloogey boys were gross. That’s no shocker. Their treehouse had a weird smell that didn’t seem to leave and whenever one got too close, Richie felt like gagging and spraying them down with Lysol at the same time. But not Melvin. After Richie got out of being shot at with spitballs by crying and emotionally manipulating them, he sat (awkwardly) next to Melvin. Pinkeye laid on his stomach when drawing, Fredo sat with his legs crossed, hunched over the book in his lap.
Melvin, however, hid his sketch book. He leans against something, knees pulled up to his chest to hide his canvas. Richie doesn’t understand why Melvin would hide his creativity. He knows Melvin is talented, well from what he’s caught mere glimpses of.
“So…. Hah, comics, right?” Richie smiles, seeking to end the silence. He’s very familiar with silence, with its emptiness. Silence is the lack of sound, there isn’t any comfort in the quiet, at least not in Richie’s life. Many silent nights waiting in bed for your parents to sing you a song or kiss you goodnight does that to a kid.
“You know, usually, we don’t talk during this time.” Pinkeye sits up, closing his sketchbook. “But why don’t you tell us why you’re here?”
“Me? Oh, to be your friend!” Richie chuckles. He leans back a bit to catch a glimpse of Melvin’s sketchbook, but he pulls it away.
Sighing, most exasperatedly as possible, Melvin eyes Richie, opening his mouth to speak before closing it. “Why do you hang out with the Harvey Girls?”
”That’s an easy one: they’re my best friends! Oh, we’re doing icebreaker’s aren’t we? Ah, Melvin, what’s with the bookshelf full of unopened comic books?” Richie points across the room at the pristine collection of comics Melvin owns. “Surely you’ve read them, right? Or we could read them now!” Richie gets on his knee, extending his arm for the shelf, leading to Melvin’s hand shooting out and grabbing Richie’s wrist.
“Are you crazy??! Ricky, reading them decreases their value.” Melvin defended, pointing to the shelf. “Some of these are limited edition, or collectors edition. You can’t just read them.” Pointedly, Melvin did not let go of Richie’s wrist.
Richie thought for a moment, sitting back on his legs, not taking his arm away from Melvin although it now lap limp in his lap. “What if I bought all of them and you’d have two copies? You could actually read them, yeah?”
“I…” Melvin realized he was still holding Richie’s wrist. Quickly, he let go, rubbing his hand on his thigh to get rid of the feeling of soft skin against his fingers.
“Sure. Whatever.” He scoffed, grabbing his sketchbook and tossing it further to the corner of the room, away from Richie, his muse who couldn’t know that he’d been subject to an artists eye.
The remainder of the day, Richie followed the Bloogey Boys like a lost puppy. He both wanted to stray near and far from Melvin. Melvin who made Richie’s face feel warm when he laughed at his own jokes. Richie felt his stomach fill with butterflies and looked up if that was a sign of something bad. Nothing of use in the articles he found. Then he wondered: maybe the internet doesn’t have his back. And he might need an antacid.
When standing at the bottom of the latter up to the tree house, Melvin is oddly quiet. Like he has something on his mind. Which, knowing the boy, isn’t too likely. Pinkeye and Fredo were laughing to themselves, sharing whispers of humor Richie probably wouldn’t get.
But he couldn’t pay attention anyhow, not when he has Melvin’s dark green eyes to stare at. Not when he feels like he’s going to combust from whatever this nervous feeling is. His heart is beating too fast. He keeps fidgeting with his hands, and tries to stop when Melvin’s eyes trail down and he looks confused as to why Richie is so uncomfortable. Why his face is all pink and his smile looks like it’s taking everything in him to stay calm.
“I’ll see you around, Ricky?” Melvin asks, fist outstretched to Richie in invitation.
“It’s Richie, and, uhm, yeah! Yes, sure, seeing you around, like, the block. Street? Wait, you and Fredo and Pinkeye! You three? A trio!” Richie can’t seem to stop talking, to find an end to a sentence. He’s never been this nervous around someone before. It’s uncomfortable and he can feel his eyes watering. Don’t cry right now, don’t cry at all.
Melvin just chuckles and punches Richie’s shoulder. Richie shudders, trying not to think of where that hand may have been before it touched him. “Don’t worry, I washed my hands, Richie.” Comes Melvin’s laughter, joined with a hand ruffling Richie’s hair.
Richie is still standing there long after the Bloogies leave.
“Dot, I have a crisis that the internet is failing me on!” Richie yells in lieu of a real greeting when he entered the girls’ HQ.
She smiles, assured with herself. “I did tell you, Richie. But what’s the issue? You seem..” She studies him, his dilated pupils, his fidgeting hands, the rosy flush on his cheeks. “..I’m going to go with ‘different.’”
“Are you down with something?” Lotta whines, rushing over to Richie. “Because if so, Matzo-ball is a very good doctor.”
“Doubtful but the sentiment is there.” Dot shrugs.
“Different? Me? Not really, I’m still the best, always am!” Richie paces, his crooked smile faltering. “But my stomach is all fluttery, my heart keeps racing and it’s so not Rich brand. Last I checked, these were not average feelings of the hugging panda stage of friendship, so what gives?” Richie slumps his shoulders, his pouting expression one of a toddler who doesn’t understand why they can’t have that toy their mom made them put back.
”Well add in the fidgeting and blushing, I think you’re experiencing all the classic symptoms of a crush.” Dot analyzes. She’s cut short by the gasp that comes from Lotta, following by squealing.
“Your first crush!! Who is it, Richie? WHO?!”
“Crush? You girls got it all wrong, I don’t have a crush! I specifically opted out of that part of childhood, remember?” Richie laughed, waving his hand dismissively.
“Can’t opt out of what the heart wants, Lilo & Rich.” Audrey sighs, hand to her heart. “It’s a tragic thing.”
”But— But it’s impossible! Who do I even have a crush on? The only person I’ve been with all day is Mel—“ Richie pauses and thinks. No. No, no, hell no. “Shiiiiit.”
“MELVIN??” Audrey shouts, grabbing a hold of Richie’s shoulders to swing him back and forth. “This is a prank, right?? You’ve been mind controlled or something!”
“But—but Melvin is…” Richie’s still processing, the girls can tell. They don’t speak—don’t even breathe—to let him sort his words out. Melvin’s what? A boy? A Bloogey boy? A bully? A butt sandwhich?
“He’s so gross!!” Richie cries. The girls share a look. Didn’t expect that. That’s obvious.
“He’s gross and smells funny and doesn’t read comics for fear of decreasing their value—who even does that—and likes blueberry muffins and he washes his hands in consideration before touching me and he’s all secretive of his sketchbook!” Richie whines, and in turn, he grabs Audrey’s shoulders and shakes her back and forth. “That’s horrible!!”
“Uh, not what we expected but it’s alright!” Dot pries the two apart. “Can’t say we know much about how… that would work out, but it’s alright! Crushes are healthy! And normal!”
“But how do I get rid of it?! I don’t want a crush! On Melvin! Specifically on him!” Richie panics, pulling his phone out and dropping it. “The internet will tell me how to get rid of this, and I won’t have to deal with it at all!” He kneels and grabs his phone, immediately taking to his decrepit Google search.
”Sorry, Richie, but the only way to get rid of a crush is to confess or let it go away naturally.” Dot sighed, shaking her head.
“No way! If there’s something I can do, I’ll find out and I’ll be rid of these feelings! I don’t need a crush!” Richie concludes, already making his way out.
“Wait, Richie, I really wouldn’t advise locking your feelings—“ Dot sighed when the door shut. “Away.” She finished.
“Or,” Richie speaks to himself to fill the silence of the sky-mansion as he takes cheesecake out of the fridge. He sets it down on the counter and fetches a fork. “I can eat it away.”
But even as Richie dives into his cheesecake, he can tell that the crush won’t be going away. But maybe it’s not even a crush, maybe Dot’s all wrong and Richie just has a fever or something? Come on, Melvin? It’s just absurd. “I don’t have a crush on Melvin, right, Dollar?” Richie asks, peering down at Dollar with a dazed smile full of denial and fear and confusion all wrapped in a nice brown eyed gaze.
Dollar rolls his eyes and settles down at Richie’s feet. He thinks he’ll be hearing a lot more about this crap.