I own nothing, other than the circumstances...Oh how I wish I owned more.

-MiaulinK

I met Sam at a playground. I was walking to the park with Tucker, and I saw a black haired girl sitting on a swing, crying. She looked really upset, and I mentally debated over whether or not to go over to her.

Tucker chewed his Oreos as he walked beside me. I hesitantly came to a stop, staring at the girl. I remembered seeing her at a fancy place, moving in. Jazz told me that they must have not liked where they lived when I asked her. I walked towards her, slowly. Tucker trailed behind, spilling cookie crumbs everywhere. I wondered about the cookies I made at home. There was this recipe book with brown beans and cornbread and lots of other stuff on its cover. The food was really good. I was eating one right now.

"Why are you crying?" I asked curiously.

"Mama won't let me wear my black pants 'stead of this ugly, pink monswasty." She replied. I wondered what a monstwasty was, and asked her.

"I dunno. Daddy said it about an ugly car." She responded.

Tucker asked, curiously, "Why don't you like pink?"

"It's ugly! Black is prettier. Gramma got me a purple dress last week, and that was pretty, too."

My mind filled with ideas. "What's your name?" I enquired.

"Sam"

"I can help you not be so sad!" I offered.

"How?"

"Come home wif me!"

Tucker and I were in mutual agreement. Except that we walked home at the pace of a snail while Tucker pretended that she was a robot. When we walked inside, Jazz looked at me.

"Why are you back so early? Who is this?" She asked.

"This is Sam, and we're gonna make her feel happy!", Tucker informed her cheerfully.

Jazz smiled. "Have fun!"

/

I climbed into the maintenance closet. There was some black spraypaint up there. Now I just had to reach it. I climbed up the shelves, bit by bit. I finally reached it, and sat on the uppermost shelf. I looked down, and realized exactly how far I would fall if I let go. Five-year-olds lack common sense. This is common knowledge. But this was too far for me. I flattened myself against the wall. Tucker asked me what was wrong. I just told him I was too high. He told me to climb down the way I came. I shivered. He finally got Sam to lift a plastic stool to help me down. I finally descended.

"What's that?" Sam asked, unimpressed.

"Spray paint!" I announced gleefully.

"What do I do?" She added.

"Take off your clothes and I can fix them!" I informed her. She obeyed. I grinned, and held up the spraypaint. I shook it, just the way I was supposed to. She leaned over with Tucker as I pressed the button. It worked! In a little bit the dress was fixed, and Sam could be happy. I let it dry. She stuck it on. I then realized something was wrong. The back of her dress was still pink.

"Turn around, Sam." I ordered. She obeyed again, and I sprayed her dress more. Her arms were covered, along with her dress. She giggled in the stream of paint. Then she grabbed it, and sprayed me and Tucker. He lunged for it, and started spraying, too. By the time we were finished, we were covered in paint. We walked downstairs, and avoided Jazz, who was in the library. I grabbed a few of my cookies, and handed them to Tucker and Sam, and ate them. Our already smeared faces smeared further. Sam told us she should get home soon. Her gramma was taking her to the gardening centre, and she didn't want to miss it. We walked her home, laughing the entire way. By the time we reached her house, the cookies were crumbling.

/

Reflecting on our trek to her house, I wonder how we weren't found and taken home. But we were five then, and the world was our playground. I arrived at Sam's house. She showed me her gramma, and produced the final cookie for her. The old lady stared at us. She looked like she might collapse, for a second, before she burst into laughter.

"What did you do to your dress? And who are these boys?" She asked through her laughter.

Sam's reply was serious. "This is Tucker, and Danny. We're friends. They helped me paint it."

"Well! They certainly did!" She responded. "I am Sam's grandmother. And you made the cookies, Danny?"

I nodded self-importantly. She smiled.

"They are very good." My own smile grew. "But you'd better go before your parents get impatient. You don't want to make them angry, do you?"

"My parents are busy. We walked here!" I pointed to the necklace she was wearing, not noticing the look of shock she wore. "Those rocks are pretty!" I commented. She blinked.

" I suppose I can wait to drive you home until Pamela gets here." She informed me. I just watched her. "Come with me out to the patio." She commanded. I followed. I did not expect a huge cement place with lots of tables, but didn't notice it much. She pulled out a game. "How would you like to play poker?" She asked...

/

When we made it home that day, Pamela had a firmly fixed look of disapproval on her face, and I had decided that Sam's grandmother was the coolest lady ever. I won a bag of candy at poker. We arrived at home late, and I wished Tucker had been able to come this far. He had been dropped off earlier.

"Meet you at 4:00 tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yeah." Sam affirmed.

This was the start of a beautiful friendship.