"Ethan, I can walk!"

"Yeah, I know; you were already doing it pretty well when I met you 12 years ago," I snort, tightening my arms looped around Kira's thighs, giving her a seat and keeping her in place on my back while I navigate the path down from the waterfall. Kicks, Burlap and I left the others who wanted to enjoy the pool a little longer because we had things to do.

"This is ridiculous," Kira sighs, sounding exasperated, but she stops resisting, wrapping her arms around my neck instead and resting her chin on my shoulder. After a couple of seconds, I realise that she's trying to use it to drill a hole in my skin, but her breath, whisper-soft against my ear, is sending shivers down my back, causing my heartbeat to pick up and a heat wave to rush through my body, nearly undoing all the good cooling-off work the pool had done.

She cut her heel while we were playing in the pool. We have this fun thing we do where we climb onto the tall boulder near the centre of the pool, and then I toss Kira into the water, jumping in after her, and though we did that many times, it is not how she got hurt. She was standing on that boulder, guiding me to dive for the shell she nearly drowned herself for, and when I brought it to the surface, she got so excited she fell off and scratched her heel in the process.

It's a pretty good shell to continue the collection her mom started before she died, but it's not worthy of Kira's blood. After my first jump from the waterfall, I was horrified to realise that I still had it in my pocket. To my relief, it survived; she would've been devastated if I'd broken it. 

Well, the cut is not deep and will be nothing but a vague memory tomorrow, but it needs cleaning, or it could get infected and turn into a problem; I don't want her to walk around until I've taken care of the cut.

"James, please talk some sense into this guy's head," she huffs when it's clear that her chin is not doing any damage to my shoulder muscles or making me relax my hold on her, and she turns her head to look at Burlap walking beside me, her cheek taking her chin's place on my shoulder. I think she's very comfortable back there.

"Nah, he seems to know what he's doing," Burlap grins. See? The dude's got my back. Always.

"Damn straight, I do," I agree with a grin, and grunting softly, Kira relaxes against my back as if she has lost all her bones and her muscles did not function anymore. I think she's trying to make herself heavy, and it would've worked, too, if she actually were heavy. She's not. I swear my schoolbag weighs more than she does. "Besides, you're haemorrhaging."

"I'm not haemorrhaging!" she laughs. "There's barely a drop of blood."

"Exactly, there's blood," I cannot believe that this requires explaining! "You're haemorrhaging."

"Buddy, that doesn't qualify as haemorrhaging," Burlap, the traitor, is laughing now too.

"Seriously, Burlap, your parents are doctors," I remind him since he has clearly forgotten. "You should know about things like this."

"Exactly, and that's why I know she's not haemorrhaging," the bastard is still laughing at me.

"Well, I suppose you're right," I tell him, narrowing my eyes. "It's not you who has the medical degree; you wouldn't know."

Chortling happily, the guy shakes his head and gives my shoulder a gentle punch. Unlike the other guys, especially Jet, Burlap never hits me hard enough actually to feel it; he saves his real violence for our friends... and enemies... uhm... the same thing... I guess I do it too. 

"Okay, yes, you're right, Ethe; she's haemorrhaging," he finally sees reason.

"See?" I tell Kira, turning my head to try and look at her, and suddenly her lips, rosy and sweet, are too close to mine. I see them part with a soft gasp while her eyes widen, the pupils instantly growing to wipe out the biggest parts of her irises, and then she jerks her head back.

"Yes, I see that you're both idiots," she huffs, sounding breathless and gives a breezy little laugh.

"So, you're on Grandpa duty for the rest of the day?" I ask Burlap, suddenly feeling flustered, and he grunts something that doesn't sound like any language I know but seems to be in the affirmative. I glance at him and see the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench. The guy is one ball of tension. That's not good; the book, the rugby match, the swim, all of it was supposed to help him unwind.

"Hey, you need help today?" I ask, and he turns his head to look at me, his face clearing up. "I can drop Kicks off, take care of her cut and meet you at your place." I know I promised Kira to help her make lists, but she'll also think that helping Burlap with his invalid grandfather is more important. I can go by her place afterwards to work on the lists.

"No, thanks, Ethe, it's all good; go play with your girlfriend," Burlap grins, and the sack of rice on my back suddenly stiffens and regains its form, sitting up straight.

"I'm not his girlfriend!"

Burlap raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, rightfully giving Kira a look because what the hell was that?!

"Oh!" she gasps. "I am! But I'm not! I am... ugh... I mean, there will be no playing with me. I'm not his play girlfriend."

"That's right," I tell her, grinning at Burlap, who is openly laughing now. "You're not my play girlfriend, you're my real girlfriend, but I'm definitely going to play with you."

"No! You're not!" Kira growls, and grabbing my hair in both her fists, she yanks on it with sudden aggression.

"Ow!" I exclaim, and, using my one arm to keep her in place, I reach back with the other and poke my fingers between her ribs, making her squirm and let go of my hair while she shrieks into my ear, causing me to cringe. Kira hates being tickled, which is one of the reasons why I often tickle her.

"I may be wrong, but I think you're playing already," Burlap informs us, and ever defiant, Kira tries to blow him a raspberry. She really shouldn't because the girl is terrible at doing that and is basically just spitting at my friend. Being the mellow guy he is, he takes it in his stride and just grins at her chuckling softly.

"Are you enjoying the book?" Kira suddenly asks him, once again resting the side of her head on my shoulder while she's looking at Burlap.

"Yeah, I did; it was pretty good... a bit sad... and unfair." Sad and unfair... totally the kind of book I would... avoid at all costs!

"You're done with it?"

"Yes, finished it at the waterfall."

There's something satisfying and comforting about listening to my best friend and my girlfriend chatting about how awful it is for a jilted, bitter woman to groom a vulnerable little girl to become a heartbreaker in revenge on men. Not because of the subject matter - who the hell wants to read a depressing book like that? - but because two of the most important people in my life, aside from my blood family, are getting along with each other pretty well.

Kira doesn't generally hang out with Burlap, probably because that would mean hanging out with me since we're together most of the time, but when they are in each other's company, they operate on the same mental plane. Years ago, I was jealous of that plane and wanted to destroy it at all costs, but with Deli and Burlap's help, I came to see it for what it was. They enjoy many of the same interests, and they both adore me. Well, that's what Deli always says; Burlap's version is more the "I'm helping you be around her" kind of thing.

I've come to realise that he is right; it's easier to keep Kicks in my company when Burlap is there to lull her into a mental state of well-being, and I've been taking advantage of that perk as often as possible, even if I'm mostly just ignored. Hasn't done me any good, though, but as Burlap has proven, I get to be around her.

I'm about to ask them why they like torturing themselves with depressing books when the forest spits us out on the road, and I realise that it is time to say goodbye to my friend as he will be heading in the opposite direction.

"Offer still stands," I tell him, and he just smiles, removing the strap of the cooler bag from his shoulder to hang it from my neck instead, his hand resting encouragingly on my shoulder for a moment. The other cooler bag still had a couple of beers and some snacks in it and stayed behind with the other guys.

"It's really fine, Ethe," Burlap sighs. "Grandpa's just been a bit out of it the last couple of days... you know how he gets." I do know, and I know how badly it affects him on the days when his grandfather doesn't know who he is. "I can handle it."

I'm sure he can; he has done so for more than a year now since his grandfather had a stroke and came to live with them upon his return from the hospital. I wish he didn't have to, though. Burlap and his grandfather are very close, and seeing the man deteriorate is killing my friend.

"I know you can, but I'm coming over later anyway, so..."

"We can play Call of Duty," Burlap grins.

"I'll bring snacks."

"Awesome!" he grabs my hand and pulls me in for a shoulder bump that almost causes him to knock heads with Kira, and he jumps back hastily, looking a little sheepish. "Try not to hurt my buddy," he tells her, reaching out and placing his hand on her head, and Kira giggles softly, making me shiver again.

"That's a tall order, James, but I'll try," she says, pushing the back of her head into the side of my neck to see him better. "I cannot promise anything, though."

We say goodbye to Burlap, and shifting the cooler bag into a more comfortable position, I take off along the road. When I pass the school gates, Kira grabs my hair again, giving it a sharp tug.

"Ow!" I grunt, coming to a stop. "You're going to make me go bald."

"I'm just taking a leaf out of your book," she explains saucily. "I remember you using my braids as if they were reigns when we were little. It's your turn to be the horse now, and I must say, it works pretty well."

"Hey, I didn't sit on your back and try to pull your hair up by its roots! I just shook your braids a little, said giddyap, and made galloping sounds; it's not the same thing."

"I could go giddyap and make galloping sounds if you want," she offers sweetly, her cheek brushing against mine when I turn my head towards her.

"No thanks, I'm good," I chuckle, starting to walk again, keeping my head facing forward. Eyes, front, mind, blank! Breathe it out, Ethan, breathe it out!

"Aren't you going to take the shortcut?" she asks, remembering why she'd stopped me in the first place, waving her hand towards the empty lot across from the school.

"No, if I take the shortcut, I'll have to put you down every now and then. It's dirty, and there's the whole wall jumping thing..."

"You are so weird," she mutters, settling down again, resting her cheek on my shoulder, and if it weren't for the fact that she's holding herself up, I would've thought that she was falling asleep. I'm surprised when she suddenly squirms, digging into the pocket of her shorts and, a few seconds later, stretches her arm over my shoulder, holding the shell up for me to see.

"I can't believe we finally got an intact Anentome Helena shell in the wild," she sighs, enjoying the play of the sunrays on the shell's brown stripes. "This one belonged to a huge assassin snail," she informs me, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "They're also called bumblebee snails. Did you know that?"

"Does that mean they have swords?"

"What?!"

"Bees and assassins have swords," I tell her since she apparently wasn't aware of that.

"Bees have stingers, not swords!" she laughs, causing vibrations to spread from her body through my back, and I'm now feeling a lot of empathy for assassin snails and bumble bees with their unruly swords... uhm... stingers.

"Yeah, well, last time I talked about stingers, you got mad at me and called me rude," I remind her, and I can literally feel her cringe.

"You were being gross!" she exclaims, rapping me on the head with her knuckles.

Yeah, I was... heh heh...

"They're carnivorous; they feed on worms and other gastropods." What the hell are gastropods? "They're called assassin snails because they eat other snails. They often bury themselves in order to ambush their prey."

"Wow! That's pretty cool... in a freaky kind of way. They kick butt! But doesn't that make them cannibal snails rather than assassin snails?" Assassins don't generally eat their targets.

"Yes, that would make more sense." Kira and I often agree on important matters like this.

"So they're not called bumblebee snails because they go around poking other snails-?"

"Stripes, Ethan! They have stripes!" Kira yells, and she is getting really good at this new hair-pulling trick of hers. This horse might just buck and throw her off.

 "It's not a particularly rare or valuable shell," she sighs, once again admiring the conical shell, holding it up in front of my face, "but isn't it beautiful?"

"It is," I agree; not sure I'm actually talking about the shell and not the softness of her body wrapped around my back. It's hot, as in, I'm about to start sweating again, but I wouldn't want to end this weird embrace, ever. 

It took us a long time to find an ane-whatchamacallit shell this perfect because we didn't want to take one from someone's fish tank (Kira said that would be cheating) and only take shells that are no longer attached to whatever live creatures they belong to. Just like Aunt Trudy, Kira's mom, we don't kill anything for their shells; that's why we've only ever found samples that were either too warn and colourless or too damaged to keep. She's right; this shell is a nice addition to the collection, and like almost all the others, it has a cool memory to go with it.

"Yeah, it's pretty good," I smile, taking it from her fingertips and slipping it into the cooler bag hanging at my stomach for safekeeping. We discuss how we're going to go about cleaning it, and then the walk is suddenly over as we reach our street.

"Thanks, Ethan, see you later," Kira says, trying to get off my back when I stop at the gate to her yard, and grunting, I hold her in place with one arm while I open the gate with my other hand. She doesn't struggle for long; she knows it is futile; she just sighs and settles down for the rest of the journey. When I bend over to take the house key from its hiding place in the hollow of a decorative rock in the flowerbed near the kitchen door, she giggles and shrieks, clinging to me with her arms and legs, and I shake her around a few times, just to make it more of a challenge for her to stay in place.

I finally unlock the door, and after putting the cooler bag on the table, I carry her through the kitchen, up the stairs and into her bedroom, where I pitch her off my back onto her bed. It's so much more fun than sitting down and having her climb down like a normal person, right?

"Why, thank you, my trusty steed," she chuckles, sitting up while I collapse on my back across the foot-end of her bed, huffing and puffing as if I'd just carried an elephant up the stairs, earning a slap on the shoulder from her. I laugh and sit up when she presses her lips together in a disapproving line, narrowing her eyes into threatening slits.

Does she have any idea how dangerously cute she is when she does that?!

"I think we should put this on the list of ideal boyfriend tasks," she tells me. "You can just carry me everywhere I have to go."

Man, I would love to have her wrapped around my back, with her cheek in my neck all day, every day! It could potentially lead to so many way more exciting activities, but I don't think she wants to hear about that, so I just snort and leave the room to fetch the first aid kit from the cabinet in the bathroom across the hallway from her bedroom. 

Returning, I join her on the edge of her bed and take hold of her ankle, pulling her foot into the air so that I can see the cut. Kira topples over onto her back when I try to get her leg into a position where I can get better access to the back of her heel.

"Wait! What are you going to do?!" she squeaks, trying to escape from my grasp.

"I'm going to clean and disinfect it and put some ointment on it, and if it needs a band-aid, I'll stick one on too," I explain the process she, Deli, my mom, and everybody else on the planet have followed to patch me up on many occasions. How can she not know what I'm going to do? "Why? Did you want me to kiss it better instead?"

Shit, I shouldn't have mentioned that! I already made an ass of myself by doing exactly that when we left the water, and I discovered the cut while we were settling down on the picnic rock again. It was a reflex, and Barn nearly sprained his spleen laughing at me.

"No, thank you," Kira snaps, rolling her eyes in that cheeky way she sometimes does. "This just suddenly feels like déjà vu, and in the incident I'm reminded of, I ended up in worse pain than I'd been in before you started taking care of me."

I frown at her, realising once again that Deli might be right about Kira having a selective memory; she also seems to be a bit delusional. I also remember that incident, and she was not the victim on that occasion; I was!

"Turn onto your stomach," I suggest. "It will be easier to reach."

"No! You're going to torture me!"

She is being such a brat! 

I laugh and flip her onto her stomach, bending her leg so that the sole of her foot is pointing at the ceiling. Why does everything with this girl always have to turn into a wrestling match?! Not that I mind wrestling with her; it's fun, but I always end up feeling clumsy and afraid of accidentally snapping her bones. 

She has no worries about trying to snap mine, though. Kira is a gentle creature, but she has no issues about fighting dirty when it comes to me. I can now see the cut really well, and it's even less of a big deal than I'd thought it was. Still, it needs proper cleaning; it's already a little red. 

"I think I know what you're talking about, and I did not torture you that day because I tried to look after your injuries,' I inform Kira, opening the kit to get the things I need to clean the cut. "I tortured you because you made me carry you on my back from Dobson's Park, about a gazillion miles away, all the way here, because you stepped in thorns and were apparently dying of pain."

It was a fun day a few months ago; we were all hanging out at that unkempt natural park, having a picnic by the river. The place has a rugged children's playground, a few stone tables and seats, and some facilities for having barbeques, and that is all; the rest is all nature in abundance. Someone's great-great-grandfather tied a thick rope with a tyre on its end to the sturdy branch of a gnarly old tree proudly and stubbornly growing on the high bank of the river. 

This rope has been replaced a few times over the years, but the tree is still standing firm, supplying hours of fun for many generations of Egret's Rest's children. Some of us were using it that day to stand on the tyre and swing out over the water, then jump in. The guys and I often go there if we're patient enough to wait for a swim. It is quite a bit further to walk than the waterfall, but so worth it. Much warmer water too.

Deli and Tonia were sketching under the trees (it was just before Simon came into her life), Kicks was crawling around in the bushes, searching for some weird urchin or another while the guys, Wendy and I enjoyed the river, and Burlap was lying on the blanket with the girls, reading a fat-ass book, as usual. When we all decided we'd had enough and were packing up to leave, Kira came limping over, claiming that she'd stepped in a bunch of thorns and couldn't get them all out and wasn't able to put on her shoes or walk home. She was pretty convincing, and being Prince Charming and all that, I agreed to give her a ride on my back and brought her home. 

"You refused to let us stop to get rid of them for you, saying that they're in too deep and we'll need tweezers to get them out," I remind her of the details she has conveniently forgotten. "I had to carry you to your room so Deli could have a look. And she did..."

"I really thought I stepped in thorns!" Kira protests, but she cannot stop the enchanting giggles from cascading from her throat. That laugh always gives her away; she really is the worst liar. She started laughing that day too, when Delia and I wanted to take care of her thorn problem, and we immediately knew that she'd tricked me into carrying her home.

"Right," I scoff.

"I seriously did! I could feel them building nests under my skin."

"Weird-ass thorns on your planet," I chuckle. Well, it's always possible that she'd discovered some new weird thorn species. "Besides, wiping my sweat on you doesn't officially fall in the category of torture." I carefully drip some iodine on a cotton ball, replace the cap and store the bottle back in the kit.

"That's just your opinion," Kira insists cheekily. " Besides, spanking me does!"

What?! Wow! 

I just pulled her into a hug and used her to mop up some of the sweat she'd caused, and then, when she tried to bite me - yeah, Delia taught Kicks the art of biting; the two of them should be muzzled - I grabbed the old school exam information letter that was lying on her desk, sat down on the bed with her over my lap, rolled it into a very unsatisfactory cylinder and spanked her with it. It was self-defence and also not successful. I do not recommend using a flimsy two-page letter as a weapon... 

"It was a rolled-up newsletter! A floppy one!" I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, frustrated that she is still not willing to admit that I was the victim in this story. 

"The only reason you think you were in worse pain after I started looking at your feet is because you weren't in any pain before it. You're such a drama queen!" I laugh and gently dab at the cut with the prepared cotton ball, clearing away any debris and germs that might be trying to get in there. When she gasps softly at the sting, I blow on the cut to cool it down before applying some more.

"It's a little red, but it's not deep; should feel much better by tomorrow. Might be best to leave it open; I'm just gonna dab some salve on it," I tell her. Taking the ointment from the kit and using a small amount of it on the wound, I gently rub it in with my fingertip.

All done!

"Thanks," Kira mutters, rolling over and sitting up when I release her ankle and drop the ointment back in the first aid kit. I spot the tube of muscle gel in there and pull it out, peeling off my T-shirt and lying down on the bed, grinning up at her. I'm startled to see a look on the girl's face as if I'm trying to eat one of the frogs in her fishpond. No, I haven't tried to do that before, but I've seen that bewildered look on her face when Scamp tried it.

What's her problem now?

"Your turn," I say, handing her the muscle gel, and I think it is self-explanatory, but Kira just sits there, blinking at me as if she has never rubbed gel into my sore muscles before.

"To do what exactly?" she asks in a small voice, shyly biting her lip.

♂♀