A.N.- Just more random childhood moments! This consists of Rio and Hank (Swan Song/Just A Spark), Mitch, Jace, and Shane (Kill The Lights/Swang Song), Ethan (Friend Zoned/Changing Will), Dimitri and Alek (Outside The Lines), and Nash, Francis, Callahan, and Damien (The Journal)

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Rio/Hank

                5 year old Rio Snyder peeked out from behind a tree. Not seeing anyone in sight, he took off at a run for the house.

                “I see you Rio!”

                Hearing the voice of his 9 year old brother Hank, he ran even faster, letting his little legs carry him forwards. He neared the house and grinned triumphantly.

                Until, of course, he tripped over his own feet.

                He hit the ground hard and let out a yell. He laid there, pouting down at the ground, his eyes watering.

                “Rio!” Hank cried, dropping down next to him. “Are you okay?”

                “My knee!” he cried.

                Hank helped him sit up and inspected his lightly bleeding knee. He frowned and hugged Rio.

                “It’s okay. We’ll put a band-aid on it!” Hank said, standing up and pulling Rio to his feet. He bent down and lifted Rio into his arms. Rio wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck and sniffled.

                “It hurts, Hank,” he said.

                “I know,” Hank said, carrying him towards the house. “But you ran really fast.”

                “I was really fast!” Rio agreed.

                Hank laughed and reached the backdoor, struggling to get it open. Rio was a little small for his age, but he was still getting bigger and bigger each year. Hank knew that soon he wouldn’t be able to pick Rio up and carry him around. That made him sad. He liked carrying his baby brother around.

                “Hi boys!” their mom, Jill, said with a smile.

                “Rio hurt his knee falling. I’m going to put a band-aid on it,” Hank said.

                Jill frowned. “Are you okay, Rio?”

                “We were playing hide and seek and the house was base, and I tried to reach it but I ran too fast and fell!” Rio said. He tightened his hold on Hank, pouting. “It hurt, mommy. But Hank is gonna make it better.”

                “Hank, make sure you clean his wound. Don’t just put a band-aid on it,” Jill said.

                “I know mom!” Hank said with a smile.

                He carried Rio upstairs and set him down on the edge of the bathtub. He grabbed the disinfectant out of the cabinet and frowned at Rio.

                “This is going to sting,” he said, holding out his hand. Rio took it in his own and let out a hiss, squeezing Hank’s hand tightly as he attacked Rio’s scrapes with the disinfectant.

                “No more!” Rio said, swatting at Hank.

                “Okay, I think it’s clean,” Hank said, grabbing band-aids and covering Rio’s scraped knee with them. “There, all better!” He bent down, kissing Rio’s cheek.

                “Thanks Hank,” Rio said, but then he pouted. “But you’re a jerk for using the disinfectant!”

                “Rio, I’m sorry,” Hank said, looking upset. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But it could have gotten infected.”

                “Jerk!” Rio said, sticking his tongue out.

                “You don’t really think I’m a jerk, do you?” Hank asked anxiously.

                “I guess not, if you promise not to do that again,” Rio said, crossing his arms.

                “I’ll have to do it if you get hurt again,” Hank said with a frown.

                “Jerk,” Rio repeated.

                “Rio!” Hank hugged his brother. “I just don’t want it to get infected.”

                “Okay, I forgive you. For now,” Rio said. “But only if you play tag with me.”

                “Tag?” Hank asked in confusion.

                “Yea like…tag you’re it!” Rio tapped Hank’s arm and ducked away from him, dashing out of the room in a trail of triumphant giggles.

                Hank smiled, relieved that Rio wasn’t really mad at him. He took off running after Rio, praying that the little boy didn’t trip again.

Jace/Mitch/Shane

                6 year old Jace looked over at the adults. His parents were sitting and talking to Shane’s parents on a park bench.

                He and Shane were swinging together, and 4 year old Mitch was sneaking glances over at the parents to make sure they weren’t paying attention. He turned and grabbed the monkey bars, swinging his little body over the ground and struggling.

                “Mommy! Mitch is on the monkey bars again!” Shane said.

                Carol looked up and jumped off the bench, hurrying over to Mitch. She pulled the smaller boy off of the monkey bars and into her arms.

                “Mitchell, daddy and I said you’re not allowed on the monkey bars,” Carol said sternly.

                “But I wanna!” Mitch whined.

                Carol set him down and put her hands on her hips. “No. And I’m taking you home if I see you on them again,” she threatened.

                Mitch pouted and wandered away from her. He came over to Shane and Jace and glared at Shane.

                “You tattled!” he said.

                “You can’t go on the monkey bars. If you fall you’ll get hurt,” Shane said.

                “Yea. You’re just a baby,” Jace taunted and kicked some sand at Mitch.

                “I’m not a baby!” Mitch huffed. “I’m almost 5!”

                “And we’re almost 7,” Jace said and kicked more sand at him. “Baby, baby, baby!”

                “Stop it!” Mitch cried angrily.

                “Baby!” Jace said cheerfully, still kicking sand. Shane was laughing as he watched.

                Mitch’s cheeks turned red in anger and embarrassment. He jumped forward and shoved Jace as hard as he could.

                Jace fell off of the swing awkwardly and let out a yell as he hit his arm on the ground roughly. The adults looked over in surprise and Erica jumped up, hurrying over to her son.

                “Jace! Jace, what happened?” she asked as the other parents came over. She lifted Jace into her arms, inspecting his lightly bleeding arm.

                “Mitch pushed me!” Jace cried, his eyes watering.

                “Mitchell,” Carol said furiously, gripping his arm. “Bad boy!”

                “He called me a baby!” Mitch said, pouting at Jace. “And he kicked sand at me, mommy.”

                “Jace, you called Mitch a baby? You’re the one crying over a little cut on your arm,” Cameron said.

                “Cameron!” Erica glared at him and stood up with Jace. “Jace, that wasn’t nice to do that to Mitch.”

                “Mitchy is mean,” Shane said, getting off of the swing and going over to Jasper.

                “Mitchy is mean,” Carol agreed.

                “No I’m not! Mommy I’m not mean!” Mitch said, frowning. He held his arms out towards her and she lifted him up.

                “You’re a very bad boy,” Carol said, glaring at him.

                He shook his head wildly, looking upset. “I’m sorry! Don’t be mad at me, mommy!”

                “Mama’s boy,” Carol grumbled, setting him down. “Go apologize to Jace.”

                He wandered over to Jace, still looking upset. Erica set Jace down and Jace wiped at his eyes, glaring at Mitch.

                “I’m sorry Jace,” Mitch said apologetically.

                “You’re mean,” Jace said, sticking his tongue out at Mitch.

                Mitch wrapped his arms around Jace. “I’m really sorry Jace!”

                Jace sighed and hugged Mitch back. “I’m sorry I called you a baby.”

                “You kicked sand at me,” Mitch said.

                “Sorry,” Jace said.

                “Can you show me how to do the monkey bars?” Mitch asked, peeking up at him.

                “Sure,” he said, taking Mitch’s hand. “Shane, let’s show him!” He looked over at his parents. “Mommy, daddy, watch me do it!”

                “We will,” Erica said with a smile.

                Jace pulled Mitch over to the monkey bars with Shane trailing behind them. They climbed on and Mitch watched in amazement as they easily swung themselves across.

                “We should probably take him home and put him in time out,” Carol said.

                “Next time,” Erica said, shaking her head. “They’re over it, and they’re having fun. Jace will be fine.”

                “Sometimes Mitch is the most violent brat, and sometimes he’s the cutest freaking kid,” Jasper said, shaking his head. “That boy is going to be interesting when he’s older.”

                “I wanna try!” Mitch was saying at the monkey bars.

                “Mommy said no,” Shane said, flicking Mitch on the forehead.

                “When you’re taller,” Jace said. “Then you can do it!”

                “Promise you’ll help me when I’m taller?” Mitch said.

                “I promise,” Jace said with a smile, ruffling Mitch’s hair.

Ethan

                7 year old Ethan sat on the swings at school, watching the other kids play. They had gone outside for recess today, and school was almost over. He couldn’t wait to get away from school. He hated school.

                “Ethan?”

                He looked up at his teacher, Mr. Hill. Mr. Hill frowned at the little boy, because he looked horribly lonely.

                “Don’t you want to play with the other kids?” he asked.

                Ethan shook his head. “No,” he said.

                Mr. Hill reached his hand out towards Ethan, and Ethan flinched back in terror, because he was so used to people hitting him. Mr. Hill frowned.

                “Ethan, come play with the other kids,” he said.

                Ethan could hear the bell ring inside the school and he got off of the swings, backing away. “No. School is over,” he said.

                Mr. Hill nodded and called the other kids over. He led them inside and they grabbed their stuff before leaving to go home.

                Ethan peeked around nervously, but relaxed a little when he saw his biggest bully, Jude Tibbits, walking hand-in-hand with his father. His father was smiling happily and talking to Jude, and Jude was nodding along.

                “I hope you get hit by a bus,” Ethan growled as he watched Jude.  

                He walked himself home since he didn’t live too far from the school. He hated taking the bus, because the kids on the bus would always make fun of him. His parents didn’t know he walked home, though.

                He went into the house and his mother appeared at the top of the stairs with a cheerful smile. He went up and she hugged him.

                “How was your day?” she asked.

                “It was good,” he said, giving her a smile. “I played with my friends during recess! We played pirates!”

                “That sounds like so much fun Ethan!” Mary said, but her heart broke a little on the inside because Mr. Hill had called her before to say that Ethan would always sit alone on the swings during recess. She had a feeling he was lying about having friends.

                “I’m gonna go do my homework,” he said and hurried away to his bedroom.

                He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his folder. They had a field trip coming up and he had forgotten to give his mom the permission slip.

                He pulled it out along with the note attached to it. He slowly read the note, sounding out the words.

                “No,” he whispered.

                Part of the note said that the kids would be using a buddy-system all day, and each should kid should have a friend ready to spend the day with. Ethan slumped back, because he didn’t have any friends, and there was an odd number of kids in the class. That meant he’d be stuck as Mr. Hill’s buddy for the day, and everyone would make fun of him again.

                His eyes watered and a tear spilled over onto his cheek. He crumbled up the note and the permission slip, whipping them at the opposite wall.

                “I’m not going to school that day,” he whispered, hugging his knees to himself as he started to cry.

                He wiped at his eyes desperately, because the kids always called him a baby when he cried. He didn’t understand why no one wanted to be his friend. He didn’t understand how mean kids like Jude and Nate could have so many friends, but he didn’t have a single one and he was nice.

                “I hate them,” he whimpered, burying his face in his hands.

                He got up, glaring at the crumpled up permission slip in hate. He grabbed it and tore it to shreds with his hands, tears leaking down his face as he did so.

                He stopped, breathing heavily, looking at the torn pieces on the ground. His chest hurt and his throat burned with unshed tears as he forced himself to stop crying.

                “No more,” he whispered, gripping his head as it started to pound. “No more. No more, no more, no more. No more bullying me, please, no more.” His tears started up again, and he couldn’t wait for the day he could get revenge on all the kids at the school that he hated.

Dimitri/Alek

                “Dimmy, stop it!” 7 year old Alek said sternly.

                But her 6 year old brother ignored her and continued to paint. Alek reached forward, trying to snatch the paintbrush away from Dimitri.

                “Aleksandra, stop,” Dimitri said, holding it away from her. “I’m painting.”

                “But you’re in your nice clothes,” Alek said, gesturing at the pink button up shirt he was wearing.

                “So?” he said, not even looking at her as he resumed his painting.

                Alek pointed at her own nice dress. “So mommy just got these clothes for us, Dimitri. She’s going to be really mad if you get paint on your shirt.”

                “It’s just a shirt,” Dimitri said with a shrug.

                “Mommy made that shirt for you, and this dress for me. She worked hard to make them,” Alek said patiently, since she knew Dimitri didn’t really understand that kind of thing.

                “It’s a dress. You can get another,” he said, flicking his paint brush at her so that paint splattered on her dress.

                Alek let out a yell and jumped back. Dimitri grinned and flicked more paint, getting it all over her dress.

                “Stop it!” Alek said furiously, shoving him down and snatching the paintbrush from him.

                “Alek! Don’t push him!” her mother cried as she entered the room. Eva hurried over and knelt down next to Dimitri. “Are you okay, Dimitri?”

                “I’m fine mother,” Dimitri said with a shrug.

                “Mommy, he got paint all over my dress! And he did it on purpose!” Alek said angrily.

                “Alek, honey, I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” Eva said. “He’s just a little boy. He doesn’t know any better. It was probably an accident.” She turned to Dimitri with a stern look. “You shouldn’t be painting in your nice clothes. And next time be more careful, okay? Please apologize to your sister.”

                “Sorry,” Dimitri said to Alek, grinning a little as he eyed her paint stained dress.

                “No you’re not,” Alek said angrily.

                “Alek, come on, let’s see if we can get the stains out before they set. Dimitri, get away from that paint before you get it on yourself. Go play in your room and I’ll clean the paint up,” Eva said, taking Alek’s hand and leading her out of the room.

                Dimitri eyed his painting and went over, finishing it up. He abandoned the paint and went upstairs to his bedroom.

                A cat was lying lazily on his bed and he went over to it. They’d had the cat for years, and he was getting very old.

                “Hi Moe,” Dimitri said, stroking the cat’s fur.

                Moe didn’t purr like he usually did, though. Dimitri frowned at the cat. He considered Moe to be his cat, since he was Moe’s favorite. Moe spent almost all of his time in Dimitri’s room, ever since the little boy had been born.

                “Moe?” Dimitri pet him gently.

                Moe clumsily jumped off of Dimitri’s bed and went into Dimitri’s closet. Dimitri frowned, wondering if the cat was going in there for a nap like he usually did.

                He went and sat on his bed with paper, drawing a nice picture of the cat. The drawing took him about an hour to do and color, and when he was done, he opened his closet door.

                “Moe, I drew you,” he said cheerfully. “It’s really fabulous. You should see it!”

                He looked at the cat, who was lying there unmoving. He frowned and knelt down, lightly shaking him.

                “Moe?” he said. “Moe!” But the cat didn’t move, even as he shook him.

                Dimitri got up and hurried to his door, pulling it open. “Daddy!” he cried.

                Alexei hurried up the stairs, because Dimitri rarely called him “daddy” and because Dimitri rarely sounded upset. Dimitri grabbed Alexei’s hand and pulled him into his bedroom.

                “Moe isn’t moving,” he said, pointing at his closet. “I think he’s sick, father.”

                Alexei checked the cat and his face paled, because he could instantly tell that the old cat had finally died. He glanced at Dimitri, who was watching anxiously.

                “Father, are you going to take him to the vet?” he asked.

                Alexei stood up and pulled Dimitri into his arms. “Dimitri…” he whispered. “Dimitri, Moe is…Moe is dead.”

                Dimitri shook his head, looking furious. “He can’t be, father! He’s my cat!”

                “Dimmy, Moe was old,” Alexei said gently. “Moe was my cat before I married your mom. He was very old.”

                “Father! Take him to the vet!” Dimitri demanded.

                “Dimitri, he’s dead,” Alexei said, his heart breaking for the little boy. “If you want a new cat when you’re older, we’ll get you one.”

                Dimitri suddenly burst into tears. “Daddy, my cat can’t be dead!”

                Alexei lifted Dimitri into his arms. Dimitri almost never cried. He held him tightly, tying to soothe him.

                “My cat can’t be dead,” Dimitri repeated, burying his face against his father’s shoulder as he continued to cry at the thought of Moe really being gone. Alek peeked in the doorway at the sound of his sobs and her face fell. She felt horrible for yelling at him earlier and went in the room to help her father comfort him.

 Nash/Francis/Callahan/Damien

WARNING: CONTAILS SPOILERS FOR "THE JOURNAL". LIKE, THE WHOLE BOOK IS SPOILED IF YOU READ THE FIRST SEVERAL PARAGRAPHS. DON'T DO IT MAN. DON'T DO IT. 

                7 year old Nash sat on the deck in his swim trunks. Callahan and Damien were in the pool, giggling and splashing each other. Francis’s mom was putting sunscreen on him.

                “Mommy, I hate sunscreen,” Francis whined as she rubbed it on his nose.

                “Well, I think you’ll hate sunburn more,” she said and smiled at him. “There, you’re all set.”

                Francis hurried away from her and jumped into the pool. The water splashed Nash and he watched as Francis swam over to Callahan and Damien.

                “Adrian! Aren’t you coming in the water?” Damien asked.

                “He doesn’t like it when you call him Adrian,” Francis said, splashing Damien.

                “Sorry!” Damien said. “But are you coming in the water?”

                “Maybe,” Nash said, poking his toe into the comfortably cool water.

                Francis swam over with a frown. “What’s wrong, Nash?”

                “I don’t know how to swim,” Nash admitted with a blush, looking away from Francis. “And I don’t wanna wear floaties. That’s embarrassing.”

                Francis frowned. “Oh. I forgot you don’t know how to swim. Come on! The water isn’t deep over here!”

                He took Nash’s hand and tried to tug him in. Nash pulled away from him, looking afraid.

                “No Francis! I don’t know how to swim!” he said in fear.

                “Adrian, just trust me,” Francis said impatiently, holding his hand out. “I won’t let you drown. I promise. Besides, my mommy is watching us! She won’t let anything happen to you either!”

                Nash hesitated before taking Francis’s hand and slowly lowering himself into the pool. He gripped the edge tightly, his feet just barely touching the bottom of the pool.

                “See? It’s not bad!” Francis said with a reassuring smile.

                Nash gripped the edge tightly. “It’s scary,” he whimpered. “I don’t like it, Francis.”

                “Do you want to get out of the pool?” Callahan asked as he swam over to us with Damien.

                “Yes,” I said desperately. I hated pools.

                “No. You’re gonna learn how to swim,” Francis said sternly.

                “Frank, let him get out of the pool if he doesn’t want to be in it,” Mrs. Phillips said with a frown as she came over. She helped Nash out of the pool and wrapped a towel around him.

                “But Adrian!” Frank said. “We’re all swimming!”

                “I don’t like to be called Adrian,” Nash mumbled, blushing in embarrassment at ruining the fun of the pool.

                “You can all do something else for a little,” Mrs. Phillips said. “Don’t make people do something they don’t want to, Frank.”

                Frank pouted, but climbed out of the pool along with Callahan and Damien. The four friends went around to the front of the house to play with the sprinkler,, running and jumping through that instead.

                “See? This is fun too!” Damien giggled as he jumped over the sprinkler.

                “Not as much fun as the pool,” Frank said.

                “I’m sorry Frank,” Nash said quietly.

                “I guess it’s okay. We’ll teach you how to swim someday,” Frank said, playfully shoving Nash.

                “Someday,” Nash said with a nod.

                He let out a joyful squeal as Francis and Damien dragged him into the sprinkler. The four boys began to run around, chasing each other and running through the sprinkler, the pool forgotten, all of them blissfully unaware that tragedy was looming up ahead in just 10 years. 

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A.N.- So let me know what you think of each of them! ^-^