Chapter Text
Hot summer sun beamed down on the two boys. The pavement was burning, skin sticky and itchy with every movement. With scraped knees the older boy placed down his skateboard for the millionth time that day. The younger boy sat on the pavement watching. He had an annoyed expression, pouting his lips together and glaring at everything around him, he yelled, “C'mon Barney, no fair, s'my turn now!”
Barney looked up from the skateboard. “It's my board Clint!” He then looked downward once more concentrating on the trick.
Clint rested his chin on his arms as he continued to watch. Then he shut his eyes and pushed them into the darkness of his palms, watching the kaleidoscope of colours swim by.
He pulled his head up when there was a clatter in front of him. “Ow.” Barney grumbled, now sitting on the road, the skateboard flipped over next to him. Barney's scraped knees were painted with blood. “Shit.” He said, poking the cuts and wincing.
“You're not allowed to say that.” Clint said.
“Am too.” Barney countered, scowling still.
“Mum doesn't like us to swear.”
“Mum ain't here alright?”
Clint brightened at this, “So I can swear?”
“No Clint. Only teenagers.”
“You're not a teenager.” Clint grumbled, once more resting his head on his arms.
“Nearly am.” Barney stood up now, bringing himself and the skateboard to the side of the pavement next to Clint.
He sat down, stretching his legs and leaning back on his hands.
Clint stretched up, “can I have a go now?”
Barney just glared at him.
They were called in for dinner. Their mother scowling at their dirty hands and knees. “Go wash up boys.” She would say sternly. They'd then squeeze into the little bathroom, pushing and splashing each other.
“No Clint, wash your hands properly.” Barney said, grabbing his little brother's hands and forcing them under the tap again. “I did.” Clint scowled, but obliged.
“Barney, you're helping out in the shop tomorrow. Can't have you doing nothing all summer.” Their dad paused to speak before pushing a fork into his mouth.
“Yes dad.” Barney said. His voice was small and his head kept down as he silently ate his dinner.
It was earlier in the morning and the sun was a little kinder. Sounds of a skateboard were once more being clattered around.
“Clint d’you see that?!” Barney yelled frantically. Clint, however, had given up watching his brother long ago. He'd settled instead with sitting on a small patch of grass, digging into the ground watching the dry mud crumble in his hands. “Hmm..” He mumbled in response.
Barney grumbled something and continued what he was doing. A moment later he laughed again, “Clint! Clint!” The younger boy looked up to see his brother beaming.
“What?”
“I flipped it! It was awesome!”
“Can I have a go now?”
Barney shrugged, rolling the board toward Clint and walking off to sit on the pavement.
Clint scrambled to it, feeling a wave of anticipation. He'd watched Barney use this thing hundreds of times now it was surely easy enough. He hit the ground within seconds, though, his palms scraped and bloody. He frowned, he wasn't going to cry.
“You okay?” Barney called over, yet hadn't bothered to move.
“M'fine.” Clint said stubbornly. He ignored the stinging and got on again. Who knew when Barney would next allow him this chance.
It wasn't long though before their mother ducked her head out the shop door. “Barney! C'mon. You too Clint.” Barney sighed as he got up.
“Why me? It's his chores!” Clint yelled back.
“Clint just do as I say will ya?” She yelled back at him. Clint pouted but did as he was told.
Barney counted stock and scribbled down on a piece of paper, handing each item to Clint who'd then box it. “Don't get why I have to do this.” He fidgeted, hopping up and down irritably. “It's your chores.”
Barney scowled, “well what else are you gonna do? I'd have to look after you anyway.”
Clint stayed silent.
It felt hotter in the front shop than outside even despite the cooler that the meat sat in. Sitting there in lumps of various shades of brown and grey it didn't look entirely appetising.
Barney counted, whispering the numbers under his breath, his head low in concentration. Clint wondered around the shop, trailing his hand along every familiar shelf. “Where'd dad go?” Clint asked their mother who too was invested in her work.
“Out.” She didn't say any more. Her voice was tense as it often was.
Clint hummed to himself quietly.
Four young boys plodded along the pavement. Three of them held skateboards and chatted over each other quickly. The fourth trailed behind, kicking stones as he went and leaving clouds of dust on his shoes. His mother would scowl at them later, they were ragged and old hand me downs anyway of course, yet there were standards.
Clint and Barney had been ushered out of the house by their mother. Their dad had gotten frustrated and needed some quiet. So their mother told them to go out for a while, stuffing a few dollars in Barney's hand.
Three boys swaying up and down and up down the ramps in the skatepark. Skatepark was a generous word for it, concrete area with a few ramps was fairer. Yet Barney and his friends held the hope and called it a skatepark, and it was theirs.
Clint once more sat on the side and watched them. Clint had asked for a go and Barney told his friends about Clint's last attempt on the board. They'd all laughed about it and Clint wasn't going to ask anymore.
“Can we get ice cream?” Clint called to the older boys.
“The ice cream place is in town, Clint.” Barney said shortly. “It's too far in this heat.”
Stevie, one of Barney's friends, shrugged. “It's not a bad idea actually. Could cool us down.”
Barney looked to his friends and they all came to a mutual conclusion.
They stood in a circle counting coins. “Think we have enough?” Stevie asked, frowning at the little pile.
Reuben shrugged, the second of Barney's small group. “We'll see. Can always pinch what we can’t get, Mr Harding's an old fart.”
They grabbed up the coins and walked along slowly into town.
Barney went into the shop and the other three waited outside. “How's your summer been Clint?” Stevie asked, Stevie was nice.
“Alright.”
“You're lucky you have a brother to hang out with. I'm always stuck with my parents.”
Clint shrugged, “would be better if he quit tellin me what to do all the time.”
Stevie laughed, “Don't worry, we'll start pushin him around for ya.”
“Better than having an older sister trust me.” Reuben stuck out a tongue, “all she does is talk to her boyfriend and like. Cry.”
“Don't you also have a big brother?” Stevie frowned.
“Yeah but he moved away. It's just me and Julie now. And the other two but they're still babies basically.”
“Thought they were toddlers now.”
“same thing.” Rueben rolled his eyes. “You're way more fun to hang out with Clint.”
Clint couldn't help but beam a little.
Barney pushed open the door a second later and handed out their ice creams. The four of them sat on the street, all conversation suspended as they concentrated on making sure nothing melted away.
“Um, Clint.” Reuben laughed.
Clint frowned and the older boys kept laughing. “What is it?”
“You got a mustache, idiot.” Barney pushed a napkin his way.
“don't worry Clint, it suits ya, promise.” Stevie laughed, “you looked very distinguished.”
Clint went red and wiped it away. The conversation moved on though and Clint melted into the background once more.
The heat made Clint's sticky hands all the worse. He wanted to ask if they could go get some water but the other three were walking ahead again, rapid conversation shooting between them once more.
Yellow fields surrounded them, as they walked along the dusty footpath on the side of the road, skateboards dangling on their fingertips. Suddenly Reuben stopped, a starstruck look on his face. The others followed his eyes. In front of them stood a mighty willow tree, the branches cascaded down holding onto strings of green leaves, creating a big patch of shade. Most importantly, though, tied to one of the bigger branches an old rope hung down with a huge tyre tied to it, just floating above the ground.
“Saw it, I get first go!” Reuben had already darted off, dropping his skateboard before crashing onto the tyre and swinging himself round and round.
The others quickly followed. Pushing and pulling the swing in a flurry of directions before Reuben gave up and fell off, looking slightly green. They each had a turn then Barney next, then Stevie, they laughed and talked and talked madly, creating a number of different worlds. The swing was a pirate ship and the others were deadly sharks, the swing was a spaceship crashing through asteroids, the swing was a horse, and whoever on it, a noble Knight.
By the time Clint got a go, the boys had moved on. Clint watched them, swinging himself lightly back and forth. Reuben had pulled out a knife and they were all excitedly huddled around the trunk of the tree. Barney had started scratching something into it now, the other two commenting on every move.
“What you guys doin’?” Clint called over but was met with no response as the three continued scratching into the bark. Clint frowned and rested his chin on the top of the tyre, his legs dangling through the middle. He listened to the creak of the branch, the rustling of the leaves up above and the twittering of birds as they searched the empty fields around them. His mouth was dry and had an awful taste, his hands ached a little as he hung onto the rough rope. Clint frowned uncomfortably but yet stayed sitting on the tyre as it drifted side to side.
Barney handed the knife to Stevie now, the last of them to use it. And he too began scratching into the bark. Reuben and Barney sitting in the grass behind him, watching him work.
Clint huffed and pushed himself out of the swing, wandering over to them.
“What are you guys doin’?” Clint asked again.
Barney looked at him, a rush of annoyance passing through his expression. He pointed at the tree. “Carvin’ our names into it.”
Stevie had nearly finished now, he blew away the dust for a moment and continued on. Above his name was Barney's then Reuben's.
Clint smiled, “Cool. Can I go next?”
Barney huffed, falling onto his back and staring at the sky, “dunno Clint, can you?”
Clint shut his mouth and clenched his jaw, staring angrily at his brother.
“Sure you can go after Stevie. Just give me my knife back.” Reuben piped up, he was ripping up the grass around him, his nails caked with mud.
So Clint waited with them and finally Stevie finished, handing him the knife. It was a small and quite blunt pocket knife, a red casing surrounded it. “Cool.” Clint whispered when he got hold of it.
Reuben grinned, “I know right. My dad gave it to me for Christmas, it was his old one. Gonna give it to my son one day.”
Stevie frowned, “Don't be stupid, it'll be all rusty and broken by the time you have kids.
“No it won't, these things are made to last.”
“Not 20,000 years though.” Barney laughed.
“Shut up you two, you don't know anything.” Reuben scowled. The three continued to bicker as they wandered off.
Clint stayed, hurriedly scratching his name into the bark. It was frustrating. The others made it look so easy. Clint pouted, and bit his lip, turning to see the other three wandered a bit further off now, their skateboards in hand again. A sharp pain stung his hand as the knife accidentally slipped downward.
“Ouch!” He pulled back the hand and grabbed it, sucking on the cut. But more blood popped up and dribbled out. Clint frowned, pushing back any threatening tears.
“Clint! Hurry up!” Barney yelled from further off. The three had stopped and were watching him before they went back to chatting.
“Shut up!” Clint shouted back. Glaring at the tree now and determinedly finishing the job.
When he ran over to the group finally finished, Barney scowled at him. “What took you? We've been waiting forever.”
Clint clenched his jaw, “cut myself.” He mumbled. Barney's eyes widened and pulled Clint's bloody hand toward him.
“You idiot! Told you you shouldn't have tried!”
“It was an accident! Wasn't my fault, you're the one that distracted me anyway.”
“I'm the one that's gonna get in trouble cus of this Clint! You asshole!” Barney pushed Clint back and started storming off.
Stevie and Reuben stood there for a second feeling awkward before they ran to catch up with Barney and the chatter started up once more as if nothing had happened.
Clint stood there, he cradled his hand and the pain felt worse again. A few tears dropped down but he ignored it and marched after them, it didn't matter, it was stupid. But why'd it hurt so much?
The four were back in town now, wandering around rows of houses. They had passed Reuben's house and were met with his sister sitting on the porch outside, yelling at him as soon as they saw each other. “The hell you been? Been waiting here for hours, c’mon!”
“Out with my friends I told you, idiot.” He yelled back and the bickering died down as the door shut behind them.
Stevie left after that jogging up to his front door and waving the brothers goodbye. Now there was silence, just the flap of worn shoes against the concrete. Clint watched Barney who strode along slightly ahead of him. His brown hair had grown out over the summer and bounced around his head. Clint touched his own hair, bright blonde and kissed by the sun, short from where his mother had cut it for him. She offered to do Barney's as well but he refused, saying she'd only make it look weird.
“Sorry Barney.” Clint muttered.
“What?” He turned to look at Clint.
“Sorry. About the knife and stuff.” Barney looked to where Clint had cut himself, the blood now dried. “It's okay, Clint.” He said.
They continued to walk in silence.
“Barney?”
“Yeah, Clint?”
“I don't wanna go home.” Barney stayed silent and just looked down. They kept walking without saying another word.