A young French boy of six stared down at the marble-shaped rocks blocking his way, and like a sparrow, he flew over them, a trudge in his hop.
"Oh, suck it up Franny." His mother called out, almost angrily, picking up yet another litered plastic bottle, it's label of "Aquafina" smudged over with dirt and other unspeakable things.
"Well, I shouldn't have to clean the world!" He kicked an empty, filthy beer case in front of him. "That's God's job!" His mother gave him a scolding look as she sped up next to him, taking his hand, but he ripped it away, a pout glued to his lips.
"I know, I don't want to do this either," She growled quietly, squishing the plastic bottle with her long fingernails. "but it's your fault."
He tossed his arms in the air, stomping faster than her. He threw the beer case onto the ground. "No it isn't!" He shouted, squishing the beer case with his sandals. "The kid hit me first, Mama!"
She slapped his shoulder this time, picking the stomped-on beer case and shoving it into her child's arms. "Fran, you're always causing trouble!" She yanked one of his hands while he gripped the crushed cardboard case with the other. "Other kids don't do that!"
He pointed his nose upwards, huffing out to himself and grasping his mother's hand just as tight as she did his. "You never believe me!"
"Because you lie." She replied, pumped his hand farther forward. "If you didn't lie, maybe I could believe you."
He slammed the cardboard into the trash bag in the priest's hands in front of him. "Well, he /did/ hit me first!"
His mother sighed in defeat, pointing to the shoreline of the beach. "Go pick up the trash over there, Fran."
He puffed out his tiny chest and crossed his arms. "I don't have to." He said, snobbishly tilting his nose away from her. She knealt down and glared at him. His eyes fearlessly stared back at her as she pointed to the coastline again.
"Do what I tell you to do, Fran." She hissed, pointing over to the waces crashing against the rocky shore.
He angrily pouted at her, stomped his foot, and stormed over to the said coastline. "Fine, stupid, stupid!"
As soon as he got to the shore, he glanced back over to his mother, who was talking to the priest and tossing yet another water bottle in the trash. He smirked and smoothed out his light bluish-purple dress-like tunic. He nestled down onto the shore, kicking his feet in the warm waves. He picked up a smooth, round stone and tossed it into the water, watching it 'plump' into the water instead of skipping over the waves merrily.
He stood up and ran to the dock, not far away from where he was. He sat down on the dock and reached for the rocks underneath it. He made a tiny collection of stones and shoved them close together, kicking his feet in the slightly-calmer-than-the-coastlines water.
He snickered and snatched a rock, throwing it farther and watching it skip this time. He giggled and traced his rough, yet tiny fingers over another rock. He was reaching it into his gut like a frisbee when something hard hit him in the back of the head.
"Hey, don't do that." Simple words came from somewhere behind him. He turned his head but not his body and peered behind him. A girl slightly taller than him, with long, scarlet hair down to her hips chased a short, scrawny, blonde boy, who ran straight for him.
He raced until he was right beside him, and the girl with lenghty,red hair stopped a while back and watched the small boy approach the French boy.
The French boy watched as the blond boy sat down beside him and gazed up at him, with gigantic emerald orbs and a petite smile on his lips. "Don't throw rocks in the water." The blond boy said, and the French boy grimaced.
"Why can't I?" The French troublemaker furrowed his worm-like eyebrows.
"You'll hurt the water." He replied, and the French boy responded with a giggle.
"You're silly," the French kid replied,lacing his fingers around his round stone again. "give it a try." He held the circular rock out to the other as he slowly took it.
The boy tossed it straight down into the water with a 'plunk' noise. It sank right away, but the kid's lit-up face proved other wise.
"I did it, see?" He stuck his tongue out mockingly. "I bet I can throw it farther than you!"
He laughed. "Oh really? We'll see about that!" He divided a handful of rocks for the both of them. "I challnge you to a rock-throwing contest!"
The younger boy tilted his head to the side curiously. "A contest? What's that?"
The elder laughed audibly. "A contest is like a game!" He answered, not wanting to complicate the situation for the smaller boy, his emerald eyes shining as he glanced to the French boy and then to the water.
"Oh, okay!" He grinned and grabbed one right away, throwing it down again, watching it sink. "I did it again, I'm so good at it!"
The French boy chuckled and grabbed the younger boy's hand. "You're doing it wrong." He smiled lightly. "I'll help you though! Stand up!" As if on command, he did so, the Frenchboy following the action. He reached for a stone and placed it in the boy's hand, still holding his other hand over the younger's own.
He pulled the boy's arm back with his own and threw it back in it's original post, and as the boy let go, the rock flew across the waves.
"Wow, that was so cool!" He cheered and clapped his hands like a baby, grabbing another and repeating the told steps himself, though it didn't fly over the water like the last one did.
The Frenchboy giggled and tossed one itself, followed by another. Soon the boy's were completly distracted with the game and forgot about the other's on the beach. Soon though, their play-date was interupted.
"Franny, what are you doing, slacking off?" The Frenchboy's mother called, acat-walking to her son, her face enraged.
"But Mama, I found a friend!" He replied, his rare innocent smile lighting up his face.
When his mother's eyes fell on the boy, they widened in shock, and a scream carried out from behind him. He swiftly turned around, only to see his little friend holding tightly onto the dock's columns, crying for help.
The Frenchboy jumped down from his post and stood by the boy, extending his hand to him. The other boy glanced to it as he clinged to the wooden pole holding up the dock itself. His eyes danced with tears and he ceased them shut.
"Give me your hand," the Frenchboy shouted, the ocean's strong waves and currents yelling back at him. "I'll grab you!" The tiny boy lifted his eyelids open just a peek to gaze at the Frenchboy. He whined and let go with one hand to reach it towards the Frenchboy. He grabbed his hand but suddenly, something stronger scooped the younger child onto the docks. The Frenchboy hopped up onto the docks and saw his mother's descending eyes upon him.
"He could've gotten hurt, Franny." She hissed, glancing to the kid now being held by the lady with the lengthy, ruby hair.
"I tried to help him, though!" The Frenchboy crossed his arms and stared at his tiny friend blushing and hopping out of the girl's arms and running over to him. He hugged the Frenchboy tightly.
Even the Frenchboy's mother was taken aback slightly and had to watch for a moment before it registered in her mind- and the Frenchboy's expression showed he did too.
"What are you doing?" The Frenchboy inquired quietly, slowly wrapping his arms around the tiny boy as well.
"I'm hugging my hero!" The boy said, blushing lightly as he gazed up at the Frenchboy. "...I mean my heroine."
The Frenchboy turned pink and hugged the tiny boy back just as tightly. He couldn't manage to see anything in return.
The smaller boy pulled apart first, smiling at the Frenchboy. "I hope we can play again sometime!" He said sweetly, grabbing ahold of the red haired girl's hand and they started to walk away as the Frenchboy stood right where he was with his mother, watching him walk away.
Once they were gone, the Frenchboy's mother grabbed her son's hand and walked to their house, which wasn't very far from the beach. Once they were home, his mother lay down on the couch, as if to sleep, but she just stared at the walls.
Near night time, the Frenchboy tip-toed into the living room past his bedtime to see his mother. "Mama?" The boy asked, playing with his fingers.
"Yeah, what is it, Fran?" She questioned, stroking his silky blond hair that went down just a little below his shoulders.
"Why did the boy today call me a heroine?"He asked, and his mother chuckled.
"He thinks your a lady, Franny." She answered, and his eyes went wide.
"Bu-but I'm not a girl!" He protested, but his mother just laughed once again.
"I know, Franny. But he's a good boy, and he has a rich family," she smirked."and I thing he likes you."
The youn Frenchboy turned bright scarlet. "No, he couldn't! We only just met today!"
"Fran, face it, he thinks you're his hero...well, heroine." She laughed. "Just give it a chance."
"But what if he finds out that I'm a boy too?" His eyes were wide with curiousity and concern.
His mother cupped his face tenderly. "Francis, if he really loves you, it won't matter."
"What do ya mean, Mama?" His eyes still twinkled.
"You'll understand oneday, Franny." She let go of his face and rolled over, her back facing him. "Now go to sleep."
He laughed and kissed his Mama's hand goodnight and did what as he was told.
But sleep didn't come all the easy. He gazed up at the brown ceiling, day-dreaming about what loving the cute boy he saw today would be like. It made him smile to think of holding him again like he did today. But if the boy thought he was a girl.. did it change those happy thoughts?
Those were his last daydreams before he fell fast asleep.