A/N: So hey you~ Thanks for deciding to read Chapter 2 (eventhoughchapter1'skindareallyheavywithsomuchbackstory...)! Let's change things up with perspective~
It was a Friday morning in June when I first became best friends with Peter. It was 9:12 AM to be exact, and I just happened to know the time because I looked at my watch. I don't know why I did because I don't need to be anywhere at a specific time. But I believe there's a reason for everything, so maybe I checked the time just so I could tell you my story properly. Details are important in storytelling, aren't they?
I was so glad that I met Peter that morning because I was sad after leaving my old best friend, Kiku. Having to leave all my best friends is all part of my job. It's not the best part, but I believe in seeing the bright side to everything, so the way I see it is that if I didn't have to leave my best friends, then I wouldn't be able to make new ones.
And making new friends is definitely my favorite. That's probably why I was offered the job. I'll explain what my job is in a bit, but first I want to tell you about my morning with Peter.
I closed the gate to Kiku's front garden and started walking in no particular direction. Eventually, I ended up in a neighborhood along a street called Clover Road. It might have been called that because of all the clover growing all over the place. They grow wild here.
Sorry, when I say "here" I mean a town called Baile na gCroíthe. That's in Ireland. Somehow along the line, Baile na gCroíthe ended up known as Heartstown in English, but as a direct translation from the Irish it means Town of Hearts. Which I believe sounds nicer.
Anyways, Clover Road had about maybe ten or so homes, all nearly alike with subtle differences in choice of decor. There was a lot going on in that street with people going about their lives. Well, it was a Friday morning, remember? Who wouldn't want to spend the day outside enjoying the sun?
There were lots of kids on the road doing all kinds of things: cycling, racing, chasing, water fighting and so much more. The sounds of wild screams and laughter filled the air. They looked real happy to play to their heart's content. I mean, they seemed really nice and all, but I didn't feel a pull to any of them.
You see, I can't just make friends with anyone. That's not what my job is about.
A few adults also stood around, probably supervising the children. In one yard a man was cutting the grass, in another a lady tended to her flowers. There was that great smell of distressed grass floating around and the catchy, sharp notes of music from the sound of pruning shears. At the next house, a man whistled a tune I didn't know and alternated between watering his plants and rinsing his car. Every once in a while he would join the water fights, abruptly spraying the kids nearby with a refreshing blast of water.
I walked by children playing in every driveway, but none of them saw me or invited me to join them. People on bicycles, skateboards, and remote-controlled toys whizzed by, completely unaware of my presence.
I was starting to think that arriving at Clover Road was a mistake, which confused me because I was usually amazing at choosing places and there were so many kids here. But did any of them looked like they needed a hero? I leaned against the garden wall of the last house and pondered where I might've taken a wrong turn.
After a few minutes, I decided that I was in the right area after all. There's no way my instincts would've let me down. I spun around to face the house behind the wall I leaned against. There wasn't anything going on in this yard, so I sat and studied the house.
It was two stories high with a garage and a shiny expensive-looking car parked in the driveway. The plaque on the wall read "Clover Villa" and clovers grew everywhere, filling up the entirety of the lawn and creeping up the sides of the house, and spilling over the roof. It looked a lot like a hobbit home, with some of the windows squares and others circles. Very natural. I wondered if I could find a four-leaf, but I figured that could wait.
Though the front door wasn't circular, it had two long window panes of tinted glass, a huge brass knocker, and a letterbox below. It looked like two eyes, a nose, and a mouth smiling at me. I waved and smiled back just in case. Well, you can never be too sure these days.
Just as I was studying the face of the door, it was opened and slammed shut really loud and angry by a boy who came rushing outside. He had a Lego fire truck in his right hand, a Lego police car in his left, and a sailing boat resting between his elbows, not made of Legos surprisingly. It looked like it was carved out of wood and decorated real nice like a real boat. I liked his police car better though; they're my favorite.
The boy jumped off the last step of the porch and ran to the clovers, where he slid to his knees. He got grass stains all over his jeans, which made me laugh out loud. Grass stains are funny because they're difficult to get out. It's like they want to stay with you always, but moms always have a problem with them. My old friend Kiku and I used to slide all the time, and his mom got mad every single time. I've never figured out why though.
Anyways, the little boy carefully set the boat down before picking up the other two toys and raced them against each other, crashing the police car against the fire truck and making all sorts of engine noises. He was really good at it too. Kiku and I always used to do that too. It's fun pretending to do things that don't usually happen in real life.
The boy drove the Lego vehicle into the side of the truck once more, causing the Lego fireman clinging to the side for dear life to fall off. I laughed even louder and the boy looked up.
He actually looked straight at me. Into my eyes.
"Hi," I said nervously, clearing my throat and shifting from one foot to the other. I was wearing my favorite blue Converse shoes, which still had grass stains on the white rubber edges back from when Kiku and I went sliding. I started to scrape the green parts of the shoe against the wall to try and rub it off and thought about what to say next.
As much as making new friends is my favorite thing to do, I still get a little nervous about it. There's always that scary chance that people won't like me, and it gives me butterflies. I've been lucky so far, but it's not smart to think that it'll work out every time.
"Hi," the boy responded, clicking the Lego fireman back onto his ladder.
"What's your name?" I asked, now kicking the wall. The grass stains were really stubborn; they wouldn't come off. I think I know why moms don't like them now...
The boy stared at me for a while, looked me up and down as if struggling to tell me his name or not. This is the part of my job that I don't like. I know about stranger danger and all, but it's tough wanting to be friends with someone and them not wanting the same back. That happens sometimes, but they always come around in the end. Whether they know it or not, they want me to be there. It's all part of my job as a hero, always ready to help.
Finally, he nodded, coming to a decision. "My name's Peter. What's yours?"
I stuck my hands in my pockets and started to kick the wall even harder. Parts of the bricks were starting to crumble and fall, but Peter didn't seem to mind. If anything, he watched with awed eyes. Ah, well, if he wasn't going to stop me, we might as well blame it on weathering. Nature is a powerful force after all. Without looking at him, I told him, "Alfred."
"Hi, Alfred." He smiled. He was missing a tooth.
"Hi, Peter." I grinned back. I have all of mine. "I like your police car. And your fire truck's really cool too."
"My Uncle Mathias got them for me. He helped me put the Legos together. Except for my boat. My Uncle Berwald made it all by himself," he said proudly.
"Mhm." I nodded in agreement. "My old best friend Kiku has the Lego truck too and we used to play with it all the time. It shouldn't be called a fire truck though, because if you drive it through fire, it'll melt," I informed him.
Peter stared at me in stunned silence before falling over with laughter. "You put your fire engine through fire?" He shrieked.
"Well, it is called a fire truck, isn't it?" I replied defensively.
Peter rolled over on the clover, kicking his feet in the air and yelled, "No, you dummy! Fire engines fight fires!"
I thought about that one for a while. "Hmmm. Well, I can tell you what puts out fires. Water does," I explained matter-of-factly.
He knocked the side of his head lightly, screamed, "DUH!" and crossed his eyes before rolling over some more. I started to laugh again. Peter was really funny.
"But remember, you shouldn't ever play with fire," I added seriously between chuckles. He nodded earnestly in agreement.
"Do you want to play with me?"
"Sure, playing's my favorite!" I grinned and jumped over the wall to join him.
"Hey," he began, handing me the police car and eyeing me suspiciously, "How old are you? You look like you're the same age as my Aunt Alice, but"-he frowned-"she doesn't like to play with my toys."
I shrugged. "Well, then your aunt is an old gnirob!"
"A gnirob!" Peter screeched with laughter. "What's a gnirob?"
"Someone who's boring," I said, scrunching up my nose and saying the word like it was gross. I liked saying words backwards; it was like creating my own language.
"Boring," Peter parroted and made a face as well. "Ughhh."
"Then how old are you?" I asked Peter as I knocked the police car into the fire truck. "You look like my aunt," I joked and Peter cracked up again, laughing and rolling.
"I'm only six, Alfred! And I'm not a girl!"
"Oh." I don't have an aunt. I just said it to make him laugh. "Well, there's nothing only about being six."
I was about to ask him about his favorite cartoon when the front door opened and I heard screaming. Peter went pale and I followed the direction he was looking.
"SAOIRSE," a voice yelled furiously inside the house, "GIVE ME BACK MY KEYS!"
A mischievous-looking woman with red cheeks, shining eyes, and long red hair flying about her face ran out of the house. Another squawk from the house made her wince and lose her balance, reaching out to the wall of the house to steady herself.
Looking up, her eyes noticed me and Peter sitting in the yard. I scooted back a few inches. Peter followed me, knees shaking slightly. She gave him a thumbs-up as she unsteadily made her way to the car, laughing, "See ya, kiddo."
"SAOIRSE, I'M CALLING THE POLICE IF YOU SET ONE FOOT IN MY CAR!" The voice inside the house screamed again. The red-haired woman snorted and pressed a button on the car keys to unlock the door. She opened it, knocked her head on the side, cursed loudly, and slammed the door shut behind her. A couple of kids playing nearby stopped to watch.
Finally, the person who was hollering rushed out of the house. She looked very different from the first woman, with a red angry-looking face, completely out of breath from all that screaming I think. Her blonde hair was pinned up neatly in a bun, a pair of rectangular red frames crookedly perched on her nose, and she wore a smart-looking suit, all of which didn't match her voice at all.
The only thing they had in common were their eyebrows, which Peter also shared. Huh. They were pretty well-grown out for a kid. Not that I'm saying that's bad or anything. They're something he's gonna grow into, just like children with big ears do.
The angry lady tried opening the door, but it was locked, so she pulled out her phone and waved it threateningly, warning loudly, "I'm calling the police, Saoirse!"
Inside the car, Saoirse grinned and started the engine. The blonde lady's voice increased in volume as she pleaded with the other to no avail. Saoirse backed out of the driveway and began driving down the street, only stopping halfway.
The blonde woman's shoulders sagged with relief, but it seemed like Saoirse had other plans. Rolling down the driver's window, she stuck her arm out and held up two fingers to the sky.
"Hmmm. I think she's saying that she'll be back in two minutes," I told Peter, and he gave me a confused look.
As Saoirse picked up speed, zooming down the road and came really close to hitting a kid, the woman with the phone brought her free hand to her head, massaging her temples. She slightly mused her hair, pushing a few strands out of place and messing up her tidy hairstyle.
Peter looked down and slowly pushed his fire truck through the clover, this time in silence. The blonde lady released an exhausted sigh, threw her hands in the air, and turned back to the house. It would've been a dramatic ending to the scene—if she hadn't caught her the heel of her shoe in a crack.
She stumbled a bit, but luckily managed to catch herself in time. Shaking her leg frantically, she tried to free herself, her mood worsening with the increased reddening of her face. Eventually, her shoe popped free, with the heel stubbornly stuck in the ground.
"FUUUUCCCK!" She roared. Teetering between one high heel and one flat shoe, the upset woman made her back to the porch. She slammed the door even louder than Peter had and disappeared into the house. The windows, doorknob, and letterbox smiled at me again, and I smiled back.
Peter gave me a weird look. "Who're you smiling at?"
"The door," I said cheerfully. Wasn't it obvious?
He just stared back at me in confusion, shaken from what we had seen, and at the weirdness of me smiling at a door. We could see through the windows. The lady with the phone was pacing back and forth through the hall.
"Who is she?" I asked, turning back to Peter. He bit his lip, quivering slightly.
"That's my aunt," he said quietly. "I live with her."
"Ah." I leaned back on my elbows, watching the clouds in the sky. So she's the gnirob. "Then who's the one in the car?"
Peter went back to pushing his Lego fire truck through the lawn, making indentations from the tires. "Oh, her. That's Saoirse." His voice was even smaller than before. "She's my mom."
"Oh." There was silence. I could see he was sad.
"Seer-sha." I tried out the name, liking how it felt as I sounded out the syllables. It was like a big gust of air rolling off my tongue, or the rustling of trees when they chatted during windy days. "Seeeeer-ssshaaaa."
When Peter gave me another weird look, I stopped. Running my hand over the lawn, I pulled out a few clovers and offered them to him. "You like clovers." I raised an eyebrow at him. "So Saoirse's not your girlfriend then?"
His face lit up in surprise and giggled. Not as much as before though. "Wanna come inside and play on my Xbox? I've got a new wrestling game!"
And so I found myself inside Clover Villa, waiting for a pizza with pineapple to be made by a woman named Alice, with my new friend Peter.