-----

Eric smirked. "You like Sydney, don't you?" he asked his best friend one day at school. Michael remained silent. Instead of replying, his grip on the purple crayon tightened, and he pressed harder on the paper as he coloured in the picture of his dinosaur. He'd named it Jimmy the tyrannosaurus rex.

Eric's chubby face broke out in a huge, knowing grin. "You like Sydney! You like Sydney!" He sang, all the while dancing around Michael.

Michael refused to look up at his best friend. 'How did he know?' he thought to himself, tiny forehead wrinkled in concentration as he tried his very best to colour in the lines. After all, he didn't want to ruin Jimmy. It was the bestest one he'd ever drawn, and Jimmy was just... special. He couldn't explain it... Maybe it was the purple crayon? Maybe it was because Jimmy was a dinosaur? Whatever it was, he'd grown attached to Jimmy the tyrannosaurus rex.

"You know," Eric continued, oblivious to the fact that his friend Michael was giving him the silent treatment. "I heard that girls have cooties. And I have a funny feeling that Sydney's a girl... And you know what that means?"

Michael glared at Eric, daring him to continue. "Sydney doesn't have cooties!"

"But she's a girl, isn't she?" Eric paused, a distant look coming across his chubby face. "You're not telling me—"

"Eric! Of course Sydney's a girl."

"And all girls have cooties." Eric replied defiantly. He wasn't going to give up his argument. After all, as Michael's best friend, it was officially his duty to stop him from getting cooties and turning into a girl.

"She doesn't have cooties, okay?!" Michael retorted. Angrily, he slammed down the purple crayon onto the colouring table, snatched up his picture of Jimmy the T-Rex, and stalked off over to the play-doh table, leaving Eric alone at the colouring table with his own version of Jimmy, who wasn't a dinosaur, but a doughnut.

i to Sidny,

I hop you like the pitcher I drawed fer you.

I like you Sidny. Not jsut as a frend. I like

you more then a frend. I like you like Eric

likes donuts. Only mor. Do you like me?

Cus i like you lots. Eric says girls hav kootiez.

And sinz yor a girl, do you hav kootiez? I wuz

jst askin. You dont hav to tel me if yoo dunt

wanta. But i will steel lik you any ways. Evan

if you hav kootiz.

love Michael /i

He signed his name, and re-read his note once again. It looked okay to him. He just needed to find out how to spell Sydney right, just to make sure that it would be her who got the letter, and not somebody else. But who could him spell Sydney? Eric? No... Eric couldn't even spell his own name yet... Sydney? No... She'd ask why... Mom!

Michael lept up and ran into the kitchen, where his mother was cooking dinner and humming a tune. Holding his pen and paper in one hand, he used the other to tug at the hem of her shirt eagerly. She looked down at her son.

"Mom, how do you spell Sydney?" he asked with questioning eyes.

"What for?" she raised her eyebrows curiously.

Michael avoided eye contact, like he always did when he lied. "No reason." His mother laughed.

"Is this about Sydney Bristow?"

No reply came.

"Michael...?" she asked in the tone of voice that only meant she suspected him of lying.

"I... It's... I think..." He stammered. "Do girls have cooties, Mom?"

A motherly laughter filled the room. And like all indignant young boys, Michael didn't appreciate it. "Mom!"

"Michael, girls don't have cooties..." she smiled. "Did Eric tell you this?"

He nodded.

She shook her head. "That boy..."

"So Mom? How do you spell Sydney?"

She spelt it out for him, and he printed her name as neatly as he could on the front of the envelope with his beloved purple crayon. Placing the letter and picture in the envelope, he sealed it and shoved it into his pocket.

"You like Sydney, don't you?"

He sighed. Why was it that Moms were always psychics?

"Yes," he managed to whisper, in a hushed voice that was barely audible.

His mom smiled. Her little boy was growing up...

The next day, after school..

"Bye Eric! Bye Mikey! I'll see you at school tomorrow!" Sydney said her goodbyes, as she reached down to get her bag. She waved to her friends and set off towards the front of the school in search of her daddy, who came to pick her up from school every afternoon. When she saw him, standing slightly out of place in his tie and suit amongst other parents, she broke out into a run, and as fast as her little legs could carry her, ran and flung herself into her father's arms.

"So how was school?" He asked her, like he did every afternoon, and she'd ramble on, recalling the day's events to her amused father.

"It was lots of fun. We even painted pictures of our families..." She smiled, holding out a brightly coloured picture of what was supposed to look like a family, yet resembled coloured blobs and lines, all scattered carelessly across the page. "See? This is mine. And that's you, and there's me! And this is Mommy... I know that she's gone now... But she's still a part of the family, isn't she Daddy? It just didn't feel like it was right without Mommy. And all the other kids have a Mommy in their picture..."

Jack's face saddened at his daughter's words. Sydney stared back at him, afraid she had done something wrong.

"I... I'm sorry Daddy. I didn't mean to make you sad. Honest." The little girl apologised with sincerity.

His face softened, and he smiled. "It's okay, Sydney. It's not your fault."

So he took her home, and whilst he prepared dinner, she sat crosslegged on the carpet in her room, rummaging through her schoolbag in search of her crayons. Unexpectedly, she came upon an envelope, her name written across the front in a messy scrawl. Careful not to tear the paper inside, she ripped open the envelope.

Dear Sidny...

-----