Three Boys By The Fence

Dillon twirled a straw of hay between his molars with a woven farmer’s hat shading the Carolina sun from his nine year old eyes. He had baggy boot cut jeans that curled under the heels of his bare feet; Pops never bought clothes for him, just his older brother. And Dillon couldn’t afford a pair of new blue jeans, so the hole in his right knee was part of the fashion, by choice. Dillon was cocky for an nine year old. He knew how the world worked already; he knew what was right and what was wrong. He was all that, he believed.

Dillon hated the taste of straw, but he always smacked on it because he knew his best buddies Tanner and Philip always had straw in their mouths, too. Tanner and Philip leaned against a wood fence next to Dillon, straw in their mouths. Tanner thought Dillon was the coolest kid in school because he always got in trouble for making the kids laugh at the expense of the teachers. He started joining Dillon in his shenanigans and getting beatings at home when his parents found out what they did. It was the price to pay to be with Dillon. Tanner kept a straw of hay in his mouth because Dillon had straw in his mouth.

Philip was homeschooled, only just moved about a year ago. He was neighbors with Tanner, and as Philip’s only friend, he went wherever Tanner went, which meant they went wherever Dillon went. He was shorter than the other boys, didn’t talk quite as much, but loved being part of something, even if it meant just leaning against this fence post and staring at that Carolina blue sky.

Dillon was sick of the earthy and dry flavor of the straw. He pulled out the soggy and chewed end of the hay and cast it to the wind. It was then Tanner realized he didn’t care for the taste either, and threw it behind him. Philip figured they knew something he didn’t, so he, too, was done with the straw.

Dillon cleared his throat, spit on the dirt, and leaned back against the fence with his elbows propped up on either side. Tanner suddenly decided that was a good idea, too, and did the same thing: cleared his throat, spit, leaned back with his elbows up. A good ten seconds passed before Philip awkwardly followed suit.

As the three nine year old boys – Philip was ten, but he didn’t want them to know – leaned back on the wood fence, a gorgeous girl strut passed them. She was much taller than them; long, straight, brown hair; a short red and pink sundress that only went down to her thighs; she carried a purse, to which the boys knew she was much older than them; and big round sunglasses that must’ve covered up the most beautiful eyes that had ever seen. She didn’t smile; she kept her pace and walked passed the boys, crossing one leg over the other like a runway model. As she passed by them, the boys followed her with their eyes, craning their necks to watch her as long as they could.

Dillon whistled, “Dad gum.” Dillon knew he had to be the first to comment.

“If I could find me a girl like that I’d be cooler than you, Dillon,” Tanner remarked honestly.

Dillon scoffed. “Cooler than me? Shoot, like my girl wouldn’t be twice as pretty as yours.”

“Yeah, right!” Tanner exclaimed, “My girl would be three times as pretty as yours! She’d be taller and smarter and be able to beat up your girlfriend, too!”

“Ha!” Dillon looked over at Philip. “What about you Philip? Wasn’t she somethin’?”

“Yeah, she’s cute alright,” Philip admitted. “Little young for my taste.”

“A little young?” Dillon exclaimed. “She’s gotta be, like, sixteen years old!”

Philip shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for maturity.”

Dillon looked back down where the girl was and could barely see her in the distance still. He whistled once more and shook his head. “Dad gum. Wish she was mine.”

“Go ask her out, then,” Tanner dared him.

Dillon whipped his head towards his friend. He couldn’t refuse his dare, he knew what they thought of him, but Dillon truly didn’t think he’d be able to pull it off. He found a way out of it. “Nah, she’s too far now.”

“So?” Tanner wanted to test Dillon’s confidence.

“Then you go!” Dillon backfired.

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Already got a crush,” said Tanner proudly looking up at the clouds.

“Who?” Dillon pressed in disbelief.

“Can’t say,” Tanner admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Aw, c’mon! Not like I’m gonna tell her or anythin’.”

“It’s not gentlemanly, Dillon, I can’t.”

Dillon dismissed Tanner with a wave. He hoped the conversation would drop if he stayed silent long enough, but Tanner continued. “You’re too chicken?”

“Am not!” Dillon refuted quickly.

“Then go on!” Tanner dared him once more. Dillon looked down the stretch and could just make out a figure in the distance. He was only good at something if someone was going to do it with him, like what he and Tanner would get into at school. For whatever reason Dillon couldn’t figure out why Tanner liked him so much. It wasn’t until Tanner started getting in trouble with him that Dillon felt as cool as Tanner believed he was. Alone, Dillon wasn’t able to pull off the stunts he was known to make. But this time Tanner wouldn’t join him.

“Philip,” Dillon called down the fence. Philip looked up from the ground at him. “C’mon, lets go."

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I bet I could get her to be my girlfriend before you!” Dillon challenged.

Philip sighed dejectedly. “Count me out, she’s yours.”

“What? You loser! How come?”

“She’s not my type.”

“What’d you mean she’s not your type? Are you blind?”

Philip shrugged again. “Like I said, I’m a sucker for older girls.”

Dillon dismissed Philip with a wave and then looked away from the boys. He realized he was in a pickle. He was the only one without an excuse to ask the girl out.

“What’re you waitin’ for, chicken!” Tanner taunted.

Dillon’s eyes darted back and forth between the girl – almost a speck in the distance now – and the boys. He blurted out an excuse, hoping it’d suffice. “Well. Now that I think about it, she wasn’t that cute anyways.” Dillon leaned down and picked up a new straw of hay off the dirt and twirled it between his molars. Tanner shook his head. He and Philip looked at each other.

“Actually,” Dillon segued, “I gotta get home. Ma needs me to help at the house.” Dillon pushed his elbows off the fence, stood up, and spit onto the earth. He tipped his hat at the boys. “See ya tomorrow,” and jogged off.