Delia is doing yoga with Scamp trying to sabotage her, when I pop into her bedroom with water running in trickles from my scalp and dripping into my eyes. She un-pretzels herself when she sees me grinning in the door, watching her wresting the cat paws insisting on becoming part of her body-breaking pose, digging its nails into unfortunate places.

She sits up, dragging the cat off her shoulder, where he fled to when she spoiled his fun and safely into her arms.

"What's up," she asks, blowing her hair out of her eyes, pretending that she wasn't just hanging out with her butt in the air or doing anything weird. Well, to be fair, it's pretty normal for my sister to be tied in knots on her bedroom floor, trying some new pose she found.

"Not much," I shrug, holding Kira's bag out, dangling from its strap; I don't want to enter the room; I'm wet and not entirely mud-free. I'm not in the mood to be yelled at for dripping on her floor. "Kicks forgot her bag here. She might need her phone. Would you mind taking it to her, please?"

"Ah!" she says, releasing the cat and getting to her feet, walking towards me to take the bag. "I was wondering why she's not reading any of my texts, but why don't you take it to her?" she asks, tilting her head, watching my face with narrowed eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm dirty. I need a shower." I'm surprised by how little I feel like talking about all the tangled knots being with Kira today has tied my emotions in. I just want to have a shower and eat stuff... maybe catch up with Burlap and hear how he's doing.

"You could go after your shower."

"Maybe, but she might be in a hurry for her phone." I can see that Deli has more questions, but I'm really not in the mood right now. Kicks clearly needs some space, and I don't know what I need. Maybe I'll have fresh ideas when I'm not making puddles on the floor anymore and have mud up my nose.

"Yeah," Deli agrees. "You need a shower! Mom's gonna have a cow; you're messing up the floors."

"She already had a cow," I say, smearing some mud still left on a finger onto Delia's cheek. "And we're very fond of her; we don't need another one."

"Hey!" Deli shouts, and I know she would've attacked me, trying one of her highly unsuccessful Ninja moves, if I wasn't covered in dirty water. Chuckling, I hurry away, and up the stairs, just in case she decides she doesn't mind getting her t-shirt and stretch pants wet and dirty.

I spend a long time standing in the shower, and not because I'm too dirty ever to be clean again. My thoughts keep running away with me, and I find it hard to remember to finish washing and get out. My dad banging on my bathroom door, reminding me of the existence of water bills, finally brings me back to reality long enough to close the taps and dry off.

Entering my room, I grab my phone from my bed, where I flung it when I came upstairs, and send Kira a message: "I'm sorry, Kicks, I know I broke the rules." Maybe that will help a bit. I drop my phone back on my bed and pull fresh clothes from my closet, get dressed, grab my phone and run down the stairs to clean the floors I messed up and hunt for leftovers and coffee.

"Did you enjoy your outing?" My mom asks, putting an arm around my waist and resting her head against my bicep when I've stashed the mop I used and am filling the coffee machine.

"Yeah, it was great," I grin, tousling her hair.

She takes a seat at the kitchen table and picks up the cooking magazine she left there at some point today. My mother loves cooking, and when she's not busy making stuff to eat, she's searching for new recipes to try. Sometimes it's awesome, and sometimes it's just weird and leads to diarrhoea.

I check my phone to see that Kira hasn't read my message. She might not have looked at her phone yet. She doesn't generally ignore people, even when she wants to, but she often forgets that she owns a phone. Seriously! When did I turn into someone who checks his phone every five minutes for texts from a girl?! Still, I don't want things to fester and get worse, so I'll send one last message and then just leave her in peace. "Are you mad at me?"

While I wait for the coffee to brew, I raid the refrigerator for things that are already ready to eat, piling pieces of leftover roast and potato salad onto a plate. I've wolfed it all down by the time the coffee is ready, and I pour myself and my mother each a cup, grab the biscuit tin and join her at the table.

"What's eating at you, Ethe?" she asks, and I nearly lose half a biscuit in my coffee. How does she always do that? I didn't say a word; I didn't even make any weird sounds. I just sat here, dunking biscuits in my coffee, while she sat near me, sipping her coffee, watching me do it. Well, there's no point in pretending that I don't have anything on my mind; she can be as tenacious as Delia when she smells a story, and she's apparently clairvoyant.

"Kira said she hasn't been okay since she met me 12 years ago... that's bad, right?"

My mom blinks at me in surprise, and then she laughs, reaching out to squeeze my arm. "No, Honey. I would say that is very good. It means you've made an impact on her life."

"Not a good one," I point out logically. "Or she would've been more than okay now, not not okay."

"No, that would've been bad," she says, confusing me.

"It would?"

"Yes, if she were okay or better than okay since meeting you, it would've meant that you're filling some kind of necessary service for her, like a cleaner or a gardener. People don't generally marry their useful services... they just pay them. Women marry the guys who turn their lives upside down and cause them to be not okay."

I frown at the woman who gave birth to me and raised me, wondering what in life made her so warped. What on Earth is she on about?

"That's insane."

"I agree," she laughs, taking a biscuit from the tin. Oh, great, as long as we agree. "Besides, think about it," - oh, wonderful; there's more! - "Not okay, could potentially mean much better than just okay. Honey, from what I've seen, you definitely make Kira's life so much better than okay."

"So, I'm a useful service?" I want to get married to her one day, not get paid! Why did I think talking to my mother would help? Sure, she usually has good advice, but today she's completely off her game... and off her rocker.

"No, you don't; you turn her life upside down... in a good way."

"Sometimes, I mow their lawn and weed their flowerbeds," I point out reasonably, reaching down to scratch Lazy-Bones' ears when he wanders into the kitchen and plops himself down next to my chair, looking up at me with mournful eyes, trying to let me know that the world is about to end.

"That makes you Joe's useful service, Honey. That's okay; you don't want to marry Joe."

"Right... that was not confusing at all," I grunt, frowning at my mother. "Always fun chatting with you, Mom. I'm gonna go now and chat with Burlap so I can get my brain back."

"Oh, Honey," my mother laughs, grabbing my hand when I stand. "I think she meant that you stir her heart and her mind, which is a good thing. She is definitely not unaware of your existence."

"Well, I know she's not unaware of me... I'm just... I don't know..."

"She adores you. I'm your mother, I can tell."

"Right." True, she's my mother; she's about as objective in this situation as... well, a mother when it comes to her kids. I bend over, drop a kiss on the top of her head and gather my dog in my arms. "Love you, Mom."

The heat hits me in the chest when I leave the air-conditioned kitchen with Lazy-Bones in my arms. Seriously, in most other places in the world, the Earth cools down when the sun sets, but here in Egret's Rest, in the devil's sweaty armpit, the sun is still trying to murder a few people during its last few minutes of airtime.

I look over at the Crofts' house while I stroll to the gate, but it's not giving anything away about Kira's activities. I know Deli is over there now, and I hope my sister is not making things worse.

She does understand Kicks the best, and I know she's got my back, but she tends to be merciless and over-zealous sometimes. I don't want her to freak Kira out and help me deeper into the gutter. I cross the street into the park and through the lush gardens, finally making my way over the spongy rubber playground surface to park my butt on a swing, letting Lazy-Bones down to sniff around.

"Maaaan! You're so whipped," Lance Winslow says from the swing next to mine. I obviously saw Kira's neighbour (on their other side) sitting here, but I was hoping that if I ignored the boy, he would ignore me right back; but it's Lance, so... I'm tumbling into obnoxious hell.

"You're the one who's going to get whipped if you don't put out that cigarette," I inform him, and the beast just snorts at me, looking at the smouldering tip of the cigarette he is gingerly holding between his fingertips. I wonder if the kid even knows how to smoke. "Seriously, Dude, you're 11 years old!"

Kira and Delia often babysit the Winslow boys. Fortunately, not so often now that they're getting older and can care for themselves a bit more. That's a good thing because, growing up, Lance has been subjected to some evil influences, and it's starting to show.

Yes, I'm talking about me and the guys. People shouldn't let us anywhere near their kids. He is a monster created by his parents allowing him to hang out with us too often.

"You smoked when you were 11," he reminds me, shoving a hand through his dark hair, reminding me of Jet to a disturbing degree. How does he even remember that? He was like seven years old when the guys and I tried to smoke here in this very park, and I burned a small hole in my t-shirt.

"I was 14," I correct him. "And it was one cigarette, and then I realised how stupid smoking is."

"Because you puked your guts out. I'm not puking."

Seriously! Why does he remember this?! He should remember the important things we taught him, like how to prevent getting his instruments of joy caught in his zipper. He did that once when he used the bathroom at my place, poor kid. It was a traumatic experience for all of us who tried to help him.

"Give it time."

He squints at my face, the smoke clearly irritating his eyes, and I glare at him, showing him I mean business. After a few defiant minutes, the little bastard drops the barely burned cigarette and grinds it under his shoe, pretending he's not secretly relieved.

"You're going to pick that up and take it home with you, right?" I ask.

"You're going to pick that up and take it home with you, right?" he echoes me, smirking as he nods his head to where Lazy-Bones is emptying his bowels on the grass a few feet away.

Shit! I forgot to bring a bag for it!

"Yeah," I shrug, giving the brat a smirk of my own. "So, why are you sitting out here pretending to smoke?"

"Why are you sitting here moping over Kira?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Seriously, Lance, you're this close to getting your ass kicked," I warn, suppressing the laugh bubbling up inside me. Honestly, bleach his hair to a lighter shade of brown and buff him up a bit, and it could be Jet irritating me here on the swing set. No... he's worse than Jet.

"I saw you hold Kira's hand in church," he grins. "Impressiiiiiiive! But I also saw her run away from you all wet earlier. Not impressive at all. Your skills are seriously lacking, Dude."

Where did he learn to talk like this?! He's 11 years old! Oh, right... the influence thing again... Lance is 11 going on 23.

"You should stop watching your neighbours; it's rude," I huff, feeling slightly uncomfortable now. "Besides, you know nothing."

Lance throws his head back, chortling happily. "I saw you ask the tree to be your girlfriend. I hope you didn't ask Kira like that. It was so lame."

"What?! Shut up!" I liked him more yesterday when I was teaching him to ollie; now he's just annoying me. Yeah, I might've practised on a tree or two... the base of the slide... and some of the lampposts in our street... a few times... but that was weeks ago... often... I didn't know I was being watched.

"You are seriously such a dork," Lance laughs, his laughter growing louder when I grab the chain of his swing and pull him towards me. "Hey! If you want to practice kissing, go do it with your dog! I'm not interested!"

"Shut up," I say again, curling my arm around his neck. He has to hang on for dear life or fall off the swing while I roughly rub my knuckles over the top of his head. "So, what's bugging you, huh? Stop messing with me and tell me about it."

"Nothing," he snorts, and I let him go.

"Okay, then; see you," I say, getting to my feet with a shrug.

"I wasn't pretending to smoke. I was really smoking... it just wasn't working so well because it's gross," he tells me, and I sit down again. "My dad said I'm too young to go fishing with him and his friends from work. He's always saying that, so I figured I'd smoke a few cigarettes because in health-ed, the teacher said they age you."

I would laugh, but this is Lance. He's a cocky little pest, but he is always in such a hurry to grow up because he feels life is passing him by, and he doesn't want to die young, like his best friend, Arthur did last year.

"They won't make you old enough to go with your dad on the fishing trip, Buddy," I explain patiently. "They will just make you sick. I'll take you fishing sometime, okay?"

"When?" Oh, great, I should've known he'd want a day, a date and an hour. Seriously, I barely know what I'm going to do two hours from now.

"During the school holidays."

"That's ages away!" he moans. "How about next weekend?"

"Next weekend is Founder's Day weekend." It is a pretty big deal. The weekend activities start on Friday morning and end on Monday evening, and there's always a lot going on.

"Oh, right!" he sighs and then he perks up. "You go camping on Founder's Sunday every year, don't you?"

"Yeah, but..." He's right; the guys and I go camping on that Sunday night every year, but I'm not sure I'm going this year. It all depends on what my relationship status will be a week from now. I might decide to spend the day with Kicks instead.

"Take me with you."

"No."

"Please."

"Dude, it's all the guys," I remind him. "We're all over 17; it's not a kid kind of camp."

"You get strippers over?" What the hell does he know about strippers?!

"What? No!"

"You do drugs and drink a lot?"

"No."

"Then why can't I come?" Because he is a handful and makes me feel a hundred years old and like I need to be responsible. I don't want to be the responsible one when we go camping. That's Burlap's job!

"It's not just up to me." That much is true. "I'll have to speak to the guys."

"You need to ask your girlfriend?"

"No, Kira's not going, and why would she care if we take you or not?" Well, she might care a little; she's always saying we're setting a bad example for the kids in our street, and looking at Lance sitting here on the swing, giving me an insolent look, I know she's right. I agree; we're a terrible influence. I've admitted that already.

"I meant your other girlfriend. Burlap."

"Shut up."

"You say that to me a lot," he chuckles.

"You inspire me." Wait, this feels like a conversation I've had with Kira in the past... many times. That's not good. My relationship with Lance falls in a very different category than I want my relationship with Kicks to fall in. Please tell me she doesn't see me the same way I see Lance!!

"Tell them I'm going with you, or I'm telling Kira I saw you practice kissing on one of the poles of the jungle gym."

"I didn't!" I did, but it was when I was 12; there's no way Lance knows about that! He was only about five years old then!

"I'll tell her I caught you smoking, and then you bullied me." He is turning into quite the little blackmailer.

"Like she'll believe you."

"She always believes me," he assures me. "She was my woman long before you showed up and stole her."

"Were you doing other drugs out here?" I ask him, and he laughs, changing tack again, giving me a sad little boy look with his huge green eyes. Those work really well on me. It's how Lazy-Bones gets me to carry him to the park, feed him treats, scratch his tummy, basically anything he wants. I'm a sucker for that look.

"Please take me with you, Ethe. I promise I'll behave."

"Fine," I groan, giving up. "I'll talk to the guys."

"You mean you'll ask your boyfriend?" He just has to get in one last jab.

"Yeah. Now go home and take that with you."

Lance slips off the swing and crouches to pick up his cigarette bud.

"It's fine," I tell him, suddenly realising it would probably be better if the bud didn't end up in their trash and cause questions. "I'll take it."

"You gonna smoke it?"

"No, I'm aged enough, and chatting with you just made me much older." Stretching, I get to my feet and wrap my arms around the little brat's head. "Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, Lance; it's not that awesome."

I strip a half-dead elephant's ear from the nearest flower bed and wrap Lazy-Bones' deposit and the cigarette bud in it, careful not to get any of it on my finger, and picking up my dog, I tackle the journey back to the house. The sun has finally set completely, and though it's getting pretty dark now, it's still hot. There's light in Kira's window, and after dumping the leaf parcel, I stand at the outdoor garbage can for a long while, thinking about my next move.

Should I go to her? Should I give her more space?

Delia is in the kitchen, helping my mom bake what looks like cheese scones, when I enter the kitchen with Lazy-Bones. I've barely put the dog on the floor when my sister grabs my arm and drags me out of the kitchen and down the hallway to her bedroom, pushing me inside.

"What?" I ask, confused by her enthusiasm.

"You kissed her!" I'm not sure if she's asking, accusing or telling me.

"She's my girlfriend, so..." I start defensively, but Delia is grinning at me in a pretty scary way. I don't think she's going to attack me, but she is definitely going to be annoying.

"Good for you, Ethe! So... how was it?" I was right. She's not only being annoying, she's also being freaky!

"Hell, no!"

"Come on, Ethe!"

"No!"

"I tell you what it's like to kiss Simon..."

"I always beg you not to."

"Come on!"

"No."

"I'll tell you what she said about it."

That makes me stop trying to escape from her room, constantly having to remove her from out of my way. It's like trying to escape a friggin' fly.

"She said something about it?"

"No," Delia admits, hanging her head. "But if she did, I would've told you."

I sigh, shoving a hand through my hair in exasperation.

"Fine," Deli says, looking up at me with a serious expression. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you should keep doing what you're doing. Kiki is slowly starting to realise how she really feels about you."

"What she really feels about me... Is that good or bad?"

"It's obviously good, Ethe, you dunce!"

After having buttered scones for dinner, I pull on my sleep boxers, gather my animals, climb into my bed and turn off the bedlamp. Could Deli be right? Kira hasn't texted me yet or called me over to break up, and she didn't try to kill me after that kiss we shared on the beach. I could see that it affected her too. 

I've given her all evening to herself, which took a lot of self-restraint. I really want to go over there and be with her some more now.

Rolling over, I grab my phone off the nightstand, a little frustrated to see that there's still no reply to my messages. Ah, well. "Good night. 😘" I type and send it to her, and I am about to return the phone to my bedside table when all three of my messages are suddenly marked as read. Seriously, this girl is terrible when it comes to phones.

Finally!

I stare at the screen, holding my breath, and a big, fat nothing is happening on it. Is she not going to reply? That nothing continues to happen for an excruciatingly long time, and then I see the little dots showing that she is typing... and typing... and typing. Oh, wow, this is going to be a six-message thread, with each message reaching the maximum number of characters. I would rather have Kira break up with me using her voice. Perhaps hearing mine will make her hesitate.

Not waiting for the dots to end, I call her, and I'm starting to think that she's blowing me off when she answers the phone just before it can go to voicemail.

"Hi." She sounds a little breathless and flustered, and I have to force the urge to go over there down with every bit of strength I have.

"Are you typing a friggin' novel?" I grunt anxiously, the tension starting to get to me. "You know I don't read."

"Yeah, which is why I was trying to type a full message using only emojis... it's tricky..."

I know she's lying, but hearing her being cheeky like this is causing my heart to flood with relief, and I exhale with a chuckle. "Kicks," I say, trying to sound as sincere and serious as I feel. "I'm sorry... I won't do that again, I promise." I hope she knows what I'm talking about.

Then again, what the hell am I doing making stupid promises like that? I love the girl. I want to kiss her as often as I can. Delia just told me to keep on doing what I was doing, and what I was doing was working kissing and affection into our relationship. We're already friends. Kira might not want to admit it, but we've been friends for 12 years. I don't want to work on our friendship; I want to work on our relationship, relationship. The kind that involves holding hands, cuddling and kissing and eventually leads to marriage. I cannot make dumb-ass promises like that.

"Actually, no, I don't promise that." I was going for honesty and sincerity and temporarily got off on the wrong off-ramp, but I'm back on route now. "I can't promise that I won't do it again, but I'll try really, really hard not to. I can promise you that much."

Can I?

"Fair enough," she sighs after about three years, nine months and two weeks of silence from her end of the line, during which I'm starting to see all my future plans cracking and splintering and crashing around my ears.

"You're not mad?"

"Ethan..." she sighs, and I can feel the 'fair enough' about to change into Ethan Fletcher... yada, yada, so I hastily interrupt her.

"So, did you get enough good pictures today? If you didn't, we can try again." Yeah, a good old topic change was required, and there's nothing more effective than getting her to talk about the things she loves.

"Oh, yes! I got so many good ones. Thank you, Ethy." Great! Lecture avoided!

"Don't forget to send me the ones I took of you."

"What do you want them for?" she chuckles. "It's just me being dorky and stuff."

"A good boyfriend has to have pictures of his girlfriend on his phone." That sounded plausible and logical, right?

"Golly, you're really stuck on all the details, aren't you?"

"Hey, you know me. I go big, or I go home. Do you want some pics of me too?"

"No, thanks."

"I could take some and send them right now."

"No thanks."

"Hold on..."

"Nahte! I don't want nasty pictures of your business!"

"Wow, seriously?!" I exclaim, bursting into laughter. "I was going to send you pictures of my face."

"Exactly! Nasty business."

I laugh again, and since she's being obnoxious, I send her a picture of my toes, of Scamp's ear and Lazy-Bone's right nostril and eventually a selfie of me giving her the finger." I've got some serious phone skills, most people I know would've accidentally cut off the conversation by now, but I got it done and am rewarded by Kira calling me interesting pet names, like moron and toadeater.

"Oh, charming!" she laughs when she receives the last one.

For a while, we calmly talk about school, the upcoming exams and my dad's firm, and then the conversation moves to Kira's father and her usual worries about him, which I share.

"I honestly think Daddy is becoming too lonely, Ethy," she tells me. "And I don't think he realises it."

"Yeah, you're right. We should try harder to find him a wife." I'm always saying it, and for the last year or say, Kira and Deli have been agreeing with me, but getting Uncle Joe even to notice women is pretty hard.

"They're not sold in a store, you know?"

I run through a list of all the women her dad's age or at least in the right target range I can think of, but we both agree that most of them will not work. They're either too stuffy, too loud, too dominating or too over-eager.

"My mom's sister drives your dad up the wall," I finally share some of my new wisdom with Kicks. "If I understand my parents correctly, that means she's perfect for him."

Kira giggles, the sound like silky bubbles tickling my ear and causing goosebumps to break out all over my skin.

"Yes, I think you're right," she says. "He does seem to come alive whenever she's around... mainly just to run away, but I'm starting to get it. We should invite her over more often."

My heart skips a beat hearing that. Maybe Kira understands it too. I turn her world upside down; I make her run away and throw things at me... I'm perfect for her!

"So, Kicks, I think we should expand our spreadsheet to include more fun things in the closeness building section, you know? Like randomly sucking face."

"Ew! I really don't find those words inspiring at all!"

"Okay, we can call it something else, then," I sigh, being helpful. "How about tonsil hockey?"

"No! Gross!"

"Tongue-wrestling?"

"Ew! Yuck!"

"Spit-swap, then!"

I come up with a few more, but Kira keeps shooting them down.

"Are you trying to make me lose my supper?" she finally huffs.

"No, I'm trying to motivate you," I chuckle.

"You're motivating me to puke."

"Don't puke in your bed," I laugh. "That's just gross; you've turned me off now."

"Great, so we can take kissing off the spreadsheet completely then?" she giggles.

"Are you nuts?!"

I don't know how long we chat, moving naturally and comfortably from one topic to the next, and I know I will be in hell tomorrow morning when it's time for rugby practice before school, but I don't mind. I love hearing her voice. I don't think Kicks and I have ever talked this much before. Well, not over the phone. There have been times when I was at her place, or she was over here when we talked for hours. Usually, with Delia as part of the conversation, but there were a couple of one-on-one chats that went on for ages too.

"Remember to leave your schoolbag in the kitchen or the study; I'll grab it in the morning," I remind her. It's one of the tasks on our list of things we agreed to do for each other. I'll carry her bag to and from school and between classes where possible, and she'll make me lunch. I got the better end of the deal on that one.

"Yes," she yawns, and I don't think she's entirely awake any more.

"Kicks?" I prompt when she's been quiet for a while, her breathing gentle and even. There is no reply, and for a few minutes, I just listen to her breathe, the sound calming and reassuring. When I start to struggle to keep my eyes open, I finally end the call, put my phone on the nightstand and wrap my arms around Lazy-Bones.

Day two of dating Kira was pretty awesome!

♂♀