Chase turned to get away again, but it was too late.
He felt Mason’s brush and the cool, wet paint on the back of his neck. He screamed and whirled around, swatting at Mason with his brush.
They hit back and forth, laughing together.
Chase enjoyed the game. There weren’t a lot of kids who would play with him outside of the ones at school and only because he was a good athlete.
Their fight continued until Chase got to laughing so hard that he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t remember having ever had so much fun, except for maybe when he was watching a funny show on TV.
Mason got on his knees and painted on Chase some more.
“Uncle! Uncle!” Chase called out.
Mason ceased his attack. His face was covered with white spots, as were his clothes.
Mason fell against Chase and continued laughing, but Chase stopped.
A feeling rushed through him at Mason’s touch, like whenever he and Mason would sneak off and ride on the four-wheeler together.
A warm sensation crawled across Chase’s flesh as Mason’s laughter quieted as well.
He pulled away, and they gazed into each other’s eyes for so long that it should have felt strange, Chase knew that. If it had been any other kid at school, he would have wanted to look away, but with Mason, it felt nice. And that warm feeling across his flesh with the soothing sensation in his chest made him just want to stay in that moment for as long as he could.
He didn’t want it to stop, but he feared that Mason would pull his gaze from him, and that thought terrified him, because life never felt that good to him.
“What in the world?”
They turned at the same time.
Pa stood beside the shed, a serious expression on his face, but then he chuckled. “You kids are just a mess, aren’t you?” He turned around and waved for them to follow him. “Come on. Gonna clean you off like we used to clean the dogs.”
After he hosed them down, he took them to the house and handed them some towels so they could dry off before they went inside. Chase borrowed some of Mason’s clothes while Pa put his in the washer.
When Chase finished putting on his shirt, Mason buttoned up a fresh pair of shorts. Chase liked the shirt of Mason’s he was wearing. It was obviously new. The cloth was strong, and it didn’t have scratches and ripped seams.
“Your parents get you nice things,” Chase noted.
“What do you mean?”
“My mom never gets me new clothes. She goes to the Goodwill. Even been a while since she did that much. Some kids say things to me about it.”
“Who says things about you?” The way Mason said it, it was like he was going to punch someone in the face over it.
“Just some of the guys in my class. It’s not a big deal.”
“They give you any trouble? Because I can give them some trouble.”
Where was that side of Mason coming from? He hadn’t seen him like that before, but he liked it.
“No, it’s fine,” Chase insisted. “Don’t be like this. They don’t do it much. I was just saying that I sometimes wish Mom would buy me new stuff, but if I ask her, she gets real mad, and then she’ll get my stepdad to talk to me. They say they don’t have the money, and I get that.”
“You can have some of my clothes if you want.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just saying.”
But Mason’s serious expression didn’t let up, and Chase wished he hadn’t said anything about it. He didn’t like that he’d made Mason mad. He liked the fun side he’d seen out by the shed, and he liked knowing that he was part of the reason why Mason was smiling.
Maybe he liked it more than he should.
