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Jimmy loves summer.
Him, his older brother (one year) Joel, and Joel’s best friend Grian (same age as Joel), call themselves the Bad Boys.
The three of them ride their bikes around the culdesac, wearing black leather jackets and sunglasses.
It’s memories that will forever be ingrained in Jimmy’s brain, even when he’s an adult.
For now the seven year old tries to keep up with Joel and Grian as they race around the little culdesac at one end of their street.
“Guys!” Jimmy called, peddling with all his little might, “Slow down!”
“Keep up Timmy!” Grian calls back, laughing as how the younger of the three boys is struggling to keep up with their speed.
“Yeah, keep up Tim!” Joel says.
The two older of the Bad Boys start to ride down to the end of their street, leaving Jimmy behind.
Jimmy uses all his strength, peddling harder.
He turns the handle bars of his bike, turning them to go out of the culdesac sack, and that’s when he loses his balance.
The bike turns too much and he gets thrown off, falling a little forward, to the left.
The little blond feels a sharp pain in his hand and knees as he meets the concrete.
He picks himself up off the concrete, sitting on his butt, looking down at his hands and knees, seeing the dust and little pebbles on them, and the red of scraped skin.
It stings too much Jimmy starts to cry, tears falling down his face, but Joel said Bad Boys aren't supposed to cry, even if they get hurt, Joel and grian wouldn’t cry, they are big boys, so Jimmy needs to stop crying, he’s fine.
“Are you okay!”
Jimmy looks up and sees a blaze hybrid.
He recognizes him as one of the other kids that live on their street. He’s Jimmy’s age, and they have a gym class together. Jimmy’s seen him join a game of kickball the kids sometimes play in the culdesac on cool summer evenings.
“I fell,” Jimmy says, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, “and I hurt my hands and knees.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“At home.”
The boy nods, “Do you want to go see my mom? She always makes my cuts feel better.”
Jimmy nods, sniffling.
The boy reaches out a hand to help Jimmy up, but the avian helps himself up, not wanting to get blood all over the boy.
The blaze hybrid picks up Jimmy’s bike, pointing to a house across the street, right on the outside edge of the culdesac, “I live there.”
The two of them head over and the boy puts Jimmy’s bike down in the yard, running up to the front door, running in, “Mom!”
Jimmy walks up to the front door, wiping his tears again, waiting to be told he can come in.
Tango comes outside, “Come in!”
Jimmy follows him to the kitchen where an older blaze hybrid stands, a first aid kit out on the counter.
“Oh dear, you're a little roughed up.” she says, “What happened?”
“I fell off my bike.” Jimmy says.
“Your Seara’s kid right?” She asks.
Jimmy nods, that’s his mom’s name.
The lady nods, “I’ll call her and tell her what happened, but do you want me to take care of your cuts?”
Jimmy nods, holding up his injured hands.
The boy’s mom carefully cleans his cuts, taking a wet rag to clean the dust off them, warning him of ‘The Big Sting’, and putting cute little bandaids on them.
The boy gets a stool for Jimmy to sit on, and the lady does the same thing with his knees.
Once he’s all patched up, Jimmy wipes the last of the tears from his eyes, “Thank you ma’am.”
“You're welcome dear.” she says, “would you boys like a popsicle?"
The little blaze hybrid smiles, “Yeah!”
Jimmy smiles, “Yes please.”
The boy’s mom heads to their freezer, pulling two popsicles from it, handing them to Jimmy and Tango, “Just put the wrappers and sticks in the trash.”
“Thank you mom!” The boy says, hugging his mom.
“Thank you Ma’am.” Jimmy says, following Tango out to their front step where the blaze hybrid sits down, opening his popsicle.
Jimmy sits next to him, doing the same.
“Oh! I’m Tango by the way!” the boy says, smiling at Jimmy, tongue purple from his grape popsicle.
“I’m Jimmy.” Jimmy says, his own tongue orange.
The two of them giggle, smiling.
Jimmy will look fondly back on this, but right now, he’s spending time with a new friend.