Farm Work
Admiral Biscuit

I wouldn't say I skipped down the hallways, but there was certainly a spring in my step. It was Friday, the final bell had rung, and I didn't have any homework for the weekend. All that was left for me was an hour of drama club, and then I was a free man.

I leaned up against a locker door, right next to Fuchsia. "Hey, babe, what're you up to tonight? Wanna go see a movie?"

She slipped a notebook in her backpack and turned to me, pushing her locker door shut. "When?"

"Oh, I dunno. I'll be done in an hour . . . we could get dinner, then head to the theater."

"I can't." Her shoulders slumped. "I've got work at the farm."

"That won't take too long," I said confidently. She'd gotten a part-time job helping out at Miss Cheerilee's farm, feeding the horses and stuff. Actually, I wasn't sure exactly what she did there, but it usually took an hour before school and an hour after. "Shoot, I'll pick up a pizza after I get done with rehearsal and bring it over to your place. Then we can figure out what we want to see."

"It'll take longer than that," she said glumly. "We're stacking hay in the barn."

"Didn't you already do that in the summer?"

"Yeah. This is the last cut."

"Oh." My mind raced through variations on the plan—how long could it take to unload some hay, anyway?—then I caught a glimpse of the clock. I only had a minute or so to come up with something before I'd be late for rehearsal. "Well . . . why don't I come out and help, then?"

"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "That'd be great!"

"All right. I'll meet you over at Cheerilee's" I leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then rushed down the hall to the theater.

As I pulled my truck out of the school parking lot, my mind was already skipping ahead to the farm. It hadn't been what I'd planned for a Friday night, but that was okay. It’d be better than staying home watching TV or playing video games.

I missed the turn to Miss Cheerilee's road and had to pull a U-turn in somebody's driveway. Every time I had to do that, I wondered if anybody was home. Were they watching out their living room window, excited by the thought of somebody coming to visit, then disappointed when that somebody immediately backed out into the road again?

I winced briefly as I made my turn and the front wheels of the truck bounced onto the hard-packed gravel, then a smile came to my face. Dirt roads were what a truck was made for, not pavement. Still, the squeaks and bangs from beneath the truck were a reminder to keep it slow on the washboard surface. As the scents of cut hay and fresh manure began to fill the truck, my mood improved even more. I’d spent most of my life living in the country, and those were the smells that felt natural, like the sea did to a sailor.

I almost missed Cheerilee's driveway—I hadn't been there in a couple of months, and Fuchsia had been driving that time—but I was going slowly enough I didn't have to face the indignity of stopping and backing up.

I followed her driveway up to the house, then took the narrow two-track back towards the barn. There were a couple of other cars parked off to one side, including Fuchsia’s little econobox. I parked next to her car, shut off the truck, then remembered the windows were down and the slider was open.

Whatever. It's not like anybody's going to steal it. I left the keys in the ignition and got out, looking towards the barn. I didn't see Fuchsia—or anybody else, for that matter—but I could see an ancient green tricycle tractor on the grassy berm that led up to the barn. It was attached to the tongue of another trailer, almost surely the partner of the one parked near the fence to the sheep pasture. Clearly, the barn was where I'd be needed.

When I got up there, I peeked around the edge real quick to see who was there. I didn't recognize any of the cars besides Fuchsia’s, and I figured Miss Cheerilee didn't own all of them. Miss Cheerilee and Tree Hugger were up in the loft, along with Fuchsia. A grey-skinned blonde who looked vaguely familiar was on the wagon, along with Sunset Shimmer, of all people. No other guys, though. It was like . . . well, whatever the opposite of a sausage fest is.

The wagon was half-empty, which seemed like a pretty good sign. We'd knock this thing out in fifteen minutes or so, and that would be that. Probably still time to catch a movie.

"Hey, where do you need me?"

Miss Cheerilee and Fuchsia both looked up at the same time. Fuchsia gave me a quick wave.

"How about the wagon?"

"Sounds good." I grabbed onto the worn wooden side of the deck and boosted myself up, taking care not to slip on all the loose hay. "Hi, girls. What's the plan?"

"Toss bales over to them," Sunset said.

"Sounds easy enough." I leaned over and grabbed the two bands of twine around a bale. It was heavier than I thought it would be, and awkward to boot.

“You want some gloves?” Sunset asked as I swung the bale around.

I shook my head.

“If you change your mind, there's some extra pairs. Maybe one of 'em will fit you.”

I grunted in response, and flung the hay across the chasm between the wagon and the hayloft. It wasn't much of a chasm—whoever had backed the trailer in had been an expert. I doubted I could have done better.

“Sunset, you want to come over here?” Cheerilee called. “Takes longer to stack the bales than to toss them.”

“Sure.” She hefted the bale she'd picked up across the gap, paused on the edge of the wagon as if she were thinking of making the jump herself, then prudently decided to drop to the ground and take the short ladder up to the hayloft.

“I'm Cloudy Kicks.”

“Huh?” I turned towards the blonde.

“Cloudy Kicks. That's my name.”

“Oh.” I wiped some loose hay off my hand and stuck it out. “I'm—“

“Fuchsia’s boyfriend. I know.” She hesitated for a moment, then stripped off a glove. “Sorry, that came out bitchier than I meant it to.”

“Little less talk, little more haybales,” Sunset shouted.

“Right.” The two of us exchanged a brief glance, then bent to the task.

I told myself that Cloudy Kicks was better at throwing bales than I was because she'd had more practice. Certainly, it wasn't a question of strength or endurance . . . but there were moments when I worried she was in better shape than me.

I also told myself I wasn't going to wuss out in front of Fuchsia. So I grabbed the bales and tossed the bales and tried not to think too much about the burning in my arms or the itchiness of the little bits of hay that were somehow going down my shirt. I just concentrated on the diminishing pile of bales, imagining it was a wall I had to tear down brick by brick to gain my freedom.

It felt like it took forever, but it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. Cloudy jumped off the wagon and got a broom to sweep up the loose hay, while I threw the last three bales across.

Over in the hayloft, Sunset and Fuchsia were handing bales up to Miss Cheerilee and Tree Hugger, and I watched as they horsed the last few into place. Everybody was soaked in sweat. Miss Cheerilee had an old button-down western shirt on, with the sleeves rolled up and half the buttons undone, while Tree Hugger was just wearing a plain white T-shirt. I already knew she never wore a bra, so that wasn't a surprise. I tore my eyes away from her chest just as Fuchsia turned around.

I braved the gap, leaping gracefully from the wagon to the loft, and grabbed her in a hug before she could protest.

“I'm filthy.”

“So am I.” I brushed some straw out of her hair. “Glad that's done.”

I heard Miss Cheerilee chuckling, and turned to see her climbing down the stack of bales. She'd been smart enough to make a staircase out of them as she worked. “We’re not done yet.” She pulled her gloves off and tucked them in the waistband of her jeans. “Big Mike's bringing over two more wagonloads.”

Crap.

“Let's head outside and relax until they show up,” Fuchsia suggested. “Too hot in here.”

“You're not kidding.” Sunset rolled the bottom of her shirt up and knotted it just below her breasts. “I'm soaked in sweat.”

“I've got hay in my bra,” Cloudy muttered.

“I don't,” Tree Hugger offered.

“Lucky,” Sunset mumbled.

“Eh, not really.” Tree Hugger reached down the front of her shirt and pulled a piece of hay out, flicking it across the floor. “Still gets down there, and still sticks to the sweat. Wonder if it would be better to just take it off?”

Yes, please. I kept my face neutral as Fuchsia and I walked past the tractor and towards an oak tree.

“All that hay that's on your shirt would just stick to your chest,” Cloudy pointed out. “Plus, it's scratchy.”

“Sorry about them,” Fuchsia whispered as we sat down against the trunk. “Bunch of girls, you know.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak right away. What do I do if she does take her shirt off and then just sits down next to us?

Pretend not to notice, you idiot. I squeezed Fuchsia's hand.

Fuchsia leaned her head against my shoulder. “Not how you were expecting to spend your Friday. I'm sorry.”

“Eh, it's no biggie.” I shifted around until I could find a position where the bark wasn't digging into my back. “It's going to feel good getting into the shower once this is done, though.” Behind me, I heard the tractor starting and puttering down the grassy berm. Neither of us spoke until it was trundling down the driveway, the two empty trailers behind it.

“Did I ever tell you I worked in a restaurant last summer? Before I met you?” She shook her head and I went on. “Yeah. Little hole-in-the-wall place. I was the only guy. The things I heard.”

That got a chuckle out of her. Most of the things I'd heard I'd tried to forget, but that hadn't always been possible. I worked with one of my friends' younger sister, and caught part of a conversation between her and Raspberry Fluff regarding the difficulty of having sex in the snow. Unanswered was the question of why you would want to have sex in the snow, but now I knew that the guy had to be on top to avoid shrinkage issues.

I really wished I didn’t know that. I couldn't imagine how that little tidbit of information would ever be useful in my life.

The sound of the tractor puttering back up the driveway was our cue that breaktime was over. I finished the glass of lemonade that Cheerilee had provided and stood up, offering Fuchsia a hand once I was on my feet. I couldn’t speak for her, but I went back into that barn with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man walking towards the gallows. It had seemed like a fun idea—well, at least not a bad idea—when I'd suggested it at school, but now my sweat-soaked shirt was cold and clammy, my arms were sore, and I was pretty sure there was chaff in my underwear.

We stayed back until Big Mike got the first wagon in the barn: getting run over by farm equipment wasn't on anyone’s to-do list for the day. Then I climbed back on the wagon, stepping carefully on the narrow bit of its tail that didn't have bales on it. Once everybody else was in position, I reluctantly lifted the first bale and tossed it over to the loft.

After a while, things became numbingly routine. Cloudy Kicks would unstack the bales, I'd chuck them over to the loft, and then Sunset and Fuchsia would lift them up to Cheerilee and Tree Hugger—who was still wearing a shirt. I had mixed feelings about that.

This time, there was no sense of relief as the number of bales diminished and I could begin to see the rack at the front of the wagon, because I knew that there was another waiting in the wings. I hoped that was the last one. Surely that was the last one. It would be dusk before we got these two emptied, and we couldn't be expected to unload a third pair of wagons. Besides, the tractor didn't have headlights.

Of course, Big Mike probably had other tractors. With headlights.

I bent down and picked up a bale. Tossed it across. Turned and grabbed another. And another. And another.

The last wagon was the worst. Everybody was exhausted. My arms felt like wet noodles made of pain, my clothes were completely soaked, and I had a torturous, intimate familiarity with hay.

I'd tried to count how many bales we'd moved, thinking I could look up the weight of a haybale when I got home. But I'd lost count, and it was a moot point anyway. It was what it was, and right now I was more concerned with staying on my feet long enough to finish the job. If a girl could do it, so could I.

When I finally reached the end, I heaved the last bale across the gap. I wanted to collapse theatrically onto the empty flatbed, but my pride kept me from doing so. Plus, Cloudy Kicks was busy with the broom again, and she'd probably just poke me with it until I moved out of her way.

Instead, I slipped off the wagon with more grace than I thought I still possessed and rubbed some of the hay out of my hair. A minute later, Fuchsia was next to me, and she leaned down and kissed my forehead before climbing down the ladder out of the loft.

“Do you still want to go to a movie?” Fuchsia whispered.

“No.” I reached up and began pulling loose straw out of her hair. “I want to go home, take a cold shower, and then fall into bed.”

“I told you you didn't have to come.”

“It's fine, babe. Wasn't anything I really wanted to see anyway.”

“I'll make it up to you sometime.”

We moved aside to give Sunset enough room to climb off the ladder. I looked away as she peeled her t-shirt off and shook it out, sending a small cloud of chaff in my direction. I was too tired to wave it away.

“Miss Cheerilee?” Tree Hugger was holding Cheerilee's arm as the teacher made her way down the stack of bales. “Can we rinse off in your pond?”

Cheerilee paused where she was and looked at Tree Hugger thoughtfully, before glancing around at the rest of the group. “Well. . . .”

“Please?”

“Alright.” She looked sternly at Tree Hugger. “But don't do anything dumb, okay?”

“I won't.”

“That goes for all of you.”

I looked over at Fuchsia. “What do you think?”

She pulled at her t-shirt dejectedly. “I'd rather it be wet with water than with sweat when I'm driving home. How about you?”

“I'm up for it. You know where it is, right?”

“Yeah, out towards the back of the sheep pasture.” She bopped my shoulder at the look on my face. “Cheerilee doesn't let the sheep in the pond.”

“I hope not. How far is it?”

Fuchsia shrugged. “Quarter mile, maybe? I dunno. Never walked back there; I usually take her quad out that way.”

“I'm going to dump the hay out of my shoes first.” I sat on the edge of the wagon and began untying my boots.

She hopped up next to me. “Not a bad idea.”

By the time we arrived, Sunset was sitting on the short dock which jutted out into the pond. She had rolled up her pants, and her bare feet were in the water. A pair of balled up socks and one boot sat next to her, and she was shaking hay out of the other, letting it fall into the pond.

Tree Hugger was already in the water, her sandals and blue jeans carelessly tossed up on the dock. She was still wearing her t-shirt, but she might as well not have been for all it was concealing.

It had already occurred to me that I didn't have a swimsuit—none of us did. But underwear would serve well enough.

We sat down on the dock, side-by-side, facing away from Tree Hugger. That was a distraction I didn't need at the moment. I reached down to unlace my boots, while Fuchsia did the same.

Hard to imagine we're so close to the city, I thought. Aside from the distant noise of traffic, we could have been miles out in the country. We were sitting so we overlooked the sheep pasture, and I could see a group of them halfway across the field, their noses down in the grass. The backside of the pond was a woodlot, with the trees all covered in golds and yellows and oranges and reds. The faint scent of woodsmoke mingled with the other farm smells, and gave the pond a peaceful, secluded feeling.

I slid my boots off, setting them far enough from the edge that they wouldn't accidentally get knocked over, then pulled my socks off, shook them out, and hung them over the tops of my boots.

Behind me, I heard a splash as Sunset hopped into the water. Fuchsia was on her feet, stepping out of her pants; when she saw me looking, she hooked them with a toe and kicked them at my face. She sat back down while I was struggling free, and pulled the tail of her shirt down to cover her crotch.

“It's just the same as wearing a bathing suit,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, I know. Just feels weird.” She smiled at me. “Heh, I never thought I'd be swimming in this pond.”

“Well, at least we're not skinny-dipping in it.”

“True.” She fell silent as I took my shirt off and unbuttoned my pants. “You ever been skinny-dipping?”

“No.”

She beckoned with a finger and I leaned in. “Do you want to?”

“Here? Now?”

“Why not?”

“It's . . . we're out in public!”

“That's the idea.”

I turned the concept over in my head. I sort of wanted to, but I was nervous, too. Tree Hugger wouldn't care; she'd probably be enthusiastic about the idea. I had no idea what Sunset would think, but it would probably involve me being a pervert, at least if I suggested the idea.

I also had the nagging worry that if everybody did go skinny-dipping, I’d end up sporting a raging hard-on. If I kept my waist below the water, though, nobody would notice, probably. Hopefully.

While waiting for me to make up my mind, Fuchsia stuck one arm inside her shirt, and a moment later pulled her bra out the other sleeve. She set it on top of her pants and looked at me expectantly.

I didn't have a bra to take off, so I chose my pants instead, scooting out of them while still seated, and making damn sure my boxers stayed on. “There. Happy?”

“You can do it.”

“You're not going to point and laugh, are you?”

“I'll look away until you're in the water, I promise.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Tree Hugger was in up to her neck, her amaranth dreadlocks spread around her like a kraken's tentacles. Sunset was right next to the dock, brushing stubborn bits of hay off her stomach.

“Alright.” I'd meant to shuck my boxers and slide into the water in one smooth motion, but one of the legs got tangled around my foot. Despite my hissed imprecation, Fuchsia left her eyes squeezed shut—at least she was keeping her word.

I was about to slide smoothly off the dock when the thought of getting a splinter somewhere tender crossed my mind, so I instead crabwalked to the edge and slipped off, inadvertently splashing her.

The water wasn't as deep as I'd hoped it would be. I didn’t know why I’d thought it would be deeper—we were maybe eight feet out on the dock, and the ground didn't slope very steeply. I had to crouch to get my crotch under the water—standing, it would have been at about the height of the dock.

“Your turn,” I said, dropping to my knees and turning away from the dock. “I'm not looking.”

I heard her drop into the water behind me. “Alright. I . . . I expected it to be deeper.”

“So did I.” I turned around to face her. She'd knelt down on the bottom as well, although of course that didn't cover her bare breasts. She had her arms crossed, blocking my view of her assets. Oddly, that didn't bother me . . . I was actually kind of embarrassed for her. “Hey, you know, we've done it now. You could just go over to the dock and put your underwear back on, if you'd rather.”

She sighed, and turned her head back to the dock. Two steps, maybe three at the most, and she could reach her clothes. Then she looked back at me. “No. It was my idea. I should . . . I can do this.” Fuchsia dropped her arms into the water, giving me the first clear look at her exposed chest.

As much as I wanted to stare, I pulled my eyes back up to hers. “Well. Let's get to deeper water, shall we?”

“Yeah.”

We awkwardly shuffled across the bottom. After the first few feet, I was suddenly struck with the idea that the pond would never get deeper, but it did. Soon it was up to my chest, and I stood up.

At that point, I realized that I had misjudged the depth, because my crotch was now completely clear of the water. Luckily, Fuchsia was behind me, so all she could see was my butt. Tree Hugger was off in her own little world, and . . . where was Sunset? She must have finally decided to leave the security of the dock while we were getting undressed.

And for that matter, was Cloudy Kicks planning to come down to the pond as well? She'd run off to the bathroom, but she wouldn't stay there forever. It was probably best to move to deeper water before she arrived.

I hadn't really planned to, but I found I’d unintentionally angled back towards the dock as I walked, and now was close enough to run my hand along the edge. It made for a nice shield. I folded my arms over the wood while Fuchsia caught up with me.

“Wish you'd told me we could go in naked before I got my underwear wet.”

That was Sunset. I looked over just in time to see her unfasten her bra and toss it up on the dock without any hesitation; a moment later, her panties followed.

“Well then.” I pushed off from the dock, rolling onto my back before I caught myself and turned the rest of the way over. Didn't want Fuchsia to think I was showing off or something.

“I did not see that coming.” She walked up next to me and grabbed my hand. “I guess now all we've got to do is get Tree Hugger out of her clothes.”

“Of all the things I thought I'd never hear you say.” I led her around the end of the dock. “That was on the top ten list.”

She shoulder-checked me. “I guess I'm just feeling frisky. Hey, Tree Hugger?”

“Yo.”

“How come you're the only one not skinny-dipping?”

“Really?” She popped up out of the water and looked at the two of us, then over to Sunset. “Bummer.”

When she dropped back down in the water, I had a feeling that we'd misjudged her—that Fuchsia had misjudged her. Not wearing a bra was one thing; this was different. Then she stood back up, a small piece of black fabric clenched in her left hand. She grabbed the tail of her shirt and lifted it over her head, wadding it up into a ball and tossing it towards the dock.

“I should have guessed she wasn't the kind of girl to use a razor,” Fuchsia muttered.

I'm glad I'm not the only one who was looking at her bush. Tree Hugger laced her fingers behind her head and arched her back, embracing her newfound freedom. I suddenly had the feeling that Fuchsia might have been looking somewhere else when she made the comment about a razor. I’d never seen a girl who didn’t shave her armpits before.

It's not polite to stare, I reminded myself. Especially when your girlfriend is standing right next to you. God, this would have been easier if it was completely dark out.

I decided that I could at least minimize my chances of causing offense by only looking at Fuchsia, although I had to remind myself to keep my eyes up no matter how much they wanted to wander somewhere else.

Her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “It’s just like the girl’s locker room.”

“Where I’ve never been,” I reminded her.

“Jeez, act like you’re enjoying yourself.” She punched me lightly on the shoulder. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“I. . . “ I what? I couldn’t really cover my mixed emotions in any coherent sentence. On the plus side, I was skinny dipping with a couple of chicks—and my girlfriend, who I’d never seen completely naked before—but that same girlfriend might knock me upside the head if I spent too much time looking at Sunset or Tree Hugger. I couldn’t avoid them, unless I just stayed on our side of the dock and pretended they weren’t there at all.

It was too complicated. How could this be so complicated?

“Dude.” I snapped out of my reverie to see Fuchsia waving her hand in front of my face. “You kind of zoned out there. Are you all right?”

I nodded weakly. “Yeah . . . yeah. I can do this. It’s a little awkward and weird, but—“

“Good.” She turned around and belly-flopped into the pond, ducked under the water, and swam away from the dock.

I can do this. I followed her with my eyes for a little bit, glanced over at the other two girls, then dove into the water myself, swimming underwater until I ran out of breath.

When I surfaced, Fuchsia waved me over, and I obligingly swam in her direction. She’d found a spot that was deep enough to leave only her head and shoulders above the water. I could deal with that. It would be just like normal swimming—the water would sort of blur out everything else, and would make sure I kept my focus where I ought to. I could almost feel the level of weirdness dropping.

Then I saw Cloudy Kicks coming down the path to the pond.

For a moment, I was struck with the mad urge to swim to the end of the dock and boost myself up just as she set foot on it, but that would just be dumb. Instead, I shrank down in the water a little bit, trying to escape her notice, and trying to conceal the fact I was naked. I wondered who was going to break the news to her.

She hesitated when she stepped onto the dock: her head had turned towards the other two girls, and she’d seen more skin than she was expecting. Cloudy’s eyes flicked back towards me and Fuchsia, and I could feel the blush spreading across my cheeks. I wanted to say that it wasn’t my idea, but I kept my mouth shut.

I could only imagine the things that crossed her mind in that moment; probably the same things I’d been thinking, except for the part about getting a boner. Hopefully she wasn’t worried about that.

“Wanna swim across the pond?”

“Swim?” I looked over to Fuchsia. “Yeah. Let’s do that. Wanna race?”

“You think you’re hot stuff ‘cause you were on the swim team once.”

“And I’m a certified lifeguard,” I reminded her.

“Only because you spent all of summer camp at the lake, ‘cause you had the hots for the swim instructor.”

“I never should have told you that.” Seriously, why did I tell her that?

“Come on.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me forward. “It’ll rinse out some of the hay.”

“Alright.” I dove forward and began swimming, keeping an eye on Fuchsia and deciding whether or not I wanted to let her win.

The impromptu race cleared my head. I was only focused on one thing as I pulled myself through the water, steadily outpacing her. Compared to the rest of the team, I wasn’t that fast a swimmer, although I suppose I was better than anyone who hadn’t made the cut. By the time I got to the other side of the pond, I’d briefly forgotten that I was naked. I had my eyes on Fuchsia, watching her complete the distance across the pond. About ten feet from me, she stopped and stood up, brushing her wet bangs out of her eyes.

The water was only hip-deep for her, and when I saw her eyes drop downwards, I realized that my junk was dangling out in full view of not only her, but any of the girls on the other side who cared to look.

Screw it. I decided not to care. “I win,” I told her, sticking my tongue out.

“What? I was curious.”

“Uh . . . I meant the race.”

“Oh.” Her eyes drifted downwards again, then she caught herself. “Fine.” She started walking in my direction with a hesitant but determined expression on her face. I know, because I kept my eyes locked on hers until she stopped about arm’s length away. “There. Happy?”

“I’m not ~looking~” I said in a singsong voice.

“Gah. Boys.” She swept her hand through the water and splashed me in the face; by the time I’d blinked the water out of my eyes, she was swimming back towards the dock. Once she had a decent lead, I followed.

I took my time, enjoying the feeling of freedom. Being in the water imparts a different sort of athleticism, and it was one I loved. I always thought of it kind of like flying, especially when I was under the water—I could go up or down as the mood struck me, limited only by how long I could hold my breath. I wasn’t sure that I could make as much speed fully underwater as I could on the surface, but it felt like I was moving faster.

As I got close to the dock, I took a final fix on it before taking a deep breath and diving again, keeping farther below the surface than I’d been before. My plan was to grab Fuchsia’s legs while I was underwater and pull her down with me, or at least scare the hell out of her.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t nearly as clear as a swimming pool, and the fading light of day didn’t help. I got to where I thought she was, then saw a shadowy shape and adjusted my course towards it, only realizing too late that it was one of the pilings for the dock. By then I was about out of breath, so I slowly surfaced next to it, hoping that none of them would see me.

My plan didn’t work. I shouldn’t have expected it to work. I’d curved off more than I thought while I was underwater—I was on the far side of the dock from the other girls. The three of them turned to face me, and just as I was wondering where Cloudy had gone, I felt a hand touch my head.

“Tag. You’re It.”

A shadow flitted across the dock, and then she was arcing through the air in a long swan dive, knifing into the pond. I didn’t even bother chasing her; Cloudy was on the girls’ swim team, and she was way faster than I’d ever be.

“I guess I’m It,” I said as I made my way over to the other girls. “You’re just picking on me ‘cause I’m the only guy here.”

Sunset frowned at my mock offense. As I got close, both Fuchsia and Tree Hugger started to back away, but Sunset didn’t—she was too busy watching me to notice that the other two girls had moved, or else she wasn’t familiar with the rules of tag. Either way, I got her before she reacted, touching her lightly on the shoulder. “You’re It.”

Once I’d gotten to a safe distance, I took a moment to reflect on how I’d just tapped a naked girl on the shoulder in front of my girlfriend, but somehow that didn’t seem weird any more. I mean, I was It, and that was what I was supposed to do. Every child knew the rules.

Overall, it was the most interesting game of tag I’d ever played in my life, pushing to second place the time I’d played flashlight tag and torn the hell out of my pants and my leg when I fell across a gravel driveway at a dead run. Without any discussion, we’d all decided on the fair boundaries of the game, which mostly consisted of water that was too deep to really run well in, but a little too shallow to be sneaky below the surface—a range of knee-deep to waist-deep water, spreading out in an arc to the east side of the dock.

It wasn’t quite dark when we finally called it quits for the evening. The five of us boosted ourselves out of the pond one-by-one and sat on the dock, drip-drying off since there weren’t any towels. Fuchsia and I held hands, watching the stars come out and listening to the crickets chirping and the frogs thrumming out their final ode to summer. I would have liked for it to go on longer, but it wasn’t too long before we were all huddled together for warmth as the evening quickly cooled.

The full moon gave just enough light to see by as we got dressed. I remembered to shake the loose hay out of my clothing, although I hardly got it all.

It felt weird putting clothes back on. It was like we were putting up barriers that we’d been able to knock down, at least briefly. It was almost like we were prisoners who’d been offered a taste of freedom and then had it snatched away too soon. I wondered if I was the only one who felt that way.

By the time we’d gotten back to our cars, everybody was shivering a bit. As nice a day as it had been, the temperature dropped quickly when the sun set. Fuchsia and I stood out of the way while Cloudy and Sunset got in their cars and Tree Hugger mounted her scooter. We waved them off, and then it was just us two standing under the tree.

I didn’t really know what to say. Everything that came to mind felt trite, so I decided to remain silent. Instead, I reached out and put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to my side. I wanted to stretch the moment out as long as I could, and even without words, there was something romantic about just standing there under the moonlit tree.

“You know, I was thinking,” she said.

I nodded, then rested my chin lightly against the top of her head.

“When we were over on the far side of the pond . . . you could see me through the water, couldn’t you? That’s why you didn’t get mad when I checked you out.”

“A wise man knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“Pervert.” She pressed up against me and tilted her head back and I obliged her, leaning down for a kiss.

“Takes one to know one,” I told her as we broke apart.

“Yeah, whatever. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“I will.”

Author's Notes:

Pre-read by "anonymous badger," MSPiper, and AShadowOfCygnus.

If you've never unloaded a hay wagon . . . don't. It sucks.

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