Chapter Text
The words ‘first official day of summer’ didn’t incite excitement in Grace as they did in other kids. Considering he actually enjoyed going to school and learning, a fact he’s gotten called various mean names for in the past. But other than that, summer break also meant that his parents would be going on some trip abroad for work and leaving him behind with a babysitter.
Grace hated the babysitters they hired during summer. His parents thought they were doing some good deed by hiring teenagers and young adults who needed extra work to support their studying. But what his parents failed to realize was that teenagers were lazy, and Grace was a smart kid.
They would see that he was a very capable little eight-year-old and decide they didn’t have to put much effort into babysitting, just the scheduled meal getting cooked, a children’s show left playing on the TV and maintaining his bedtime.
They never agree to play with him, giving some excuses about needing to study or it being too hot outside, but Grace would always watch them on their phones or their laptops watching adult movies. He agreed about the heat; he also didn’t want to play in it, which is why he asked to go at night so he could look at the stars. But then they tell him it's too cold at night!
They never even listen to him talk about the things he learned from his science teacher, Ms. Wanda. Like, hey, did you know that rainbows aren’t actually arches but are circles and you can see the full circle if you get really high up? And did you know pumpkins are actually a type of berry?
No, they always ignored him or gave that nod and smile that Grace knew meant they didn’t hear a single word he said. He wished more than once that his parents hired his science teacher to babysit him. His science teacher was the coolest, she always listened to what he said and answered all of his rapidly fired questions without a beat.
And she knew so much about so many things. She told him it was because science was all about knowing how the world works. Grace asked his parents once if they could hire his science teacher as a babysitter but they just smiled that smile they do when they think he said something cute and told him that summer break is also her vacation from work and it wouldn’t be fair to make her work even then.
Which was fair, but Grace still hated it.
Even more so because of this new babysitter. She might be the worst one yet.
Grace has already gotten used to the boredom that came with his summer breaks every year. The previous babysitters did their jobs of keeping him alive and well fed.
This year's babysitter, though. She seemed to take her job as a mere suggestion. She never cooks, for one. One of the rules his parents always gave the babysitters was that all meals he ate should be cooked, it was one of the requirements for the job to know how to cook since his parents had this thing against junk food.
Which meant she either lied on her resume or was just that lazy. Grace would bet on the latter. For the first week of summer after his parents left he ate nothing but pizzas and burgers the babysitter ordered.
Now, he wasn’t one to complain about getting the chance to eat junk food. But as he said, his parents never let him eat greasy foods before, which meant that his stomach couldn’t handle it well. Three days into the summer, Grace wound up with the world’s worst tummy ache ever that lasted for five whole hours, practically forever, as the babysitter frantically searched the house for baby pain medicine.
She began ordering cooked food from restaurants after that.
Grace didn’t care much for that. His main problem with her was her complaining. Every day without fail she would make some comment about how she could’ve been hanging out with her friends if it weren’t for him.
Always while he was in the vicinity to hear, like it was his fault she took this job. She did leave the house and go out sometimes but never for too long.
That was until today.
“You,” Lora, his incompetent babysitter, declared, as she stared down at him, “are smart enough to know about stranger danger.” She crosses her arms over her chest and jerks a nod at the playground she’d walked him to. “So you’re gonna be staying here while I meet my friends.”
Grace looked around at the playground, there were a total of two toddlers playing around in the monkey bars, their mom watching over them and a couple sitting at a bench a few feet away. Grace then lifted his head up to the sky and felt a bead of sweat roll down his brow.
It was insanely hot outside, and she planned to leave him out here for who knows how long while she went to a probably air-conditioned mall with her friends.
It was madness. “My parents said you can’t leave me alone in public. They said if you go anywhere you have to take me,” he said. He wrinkled his nose at the idea of following a group of girls around while they went around shopping for makeup and clothes but that certainly beats the alternative.
“Your parents won’t know," Lora replied nastily. “Because you won’t tell them.” She said with confidence.
Grace furrowed his brows at that. "Yes, I will!”
“Kid, just-!” She cut herself off. “Go play or something. Kids like being outside, I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours. I need this, okay?” She pleaded. “It’s summer vacation and I wanna hang out with my girlfriends.”
Grace blinked at her, undeterred by her pleas. He knew he could get her in trouble if she just left without him promising that he wouldn't tell. “What’ll you give me?” He asked instead, standing his ground.
She seemed to blink at him, startled. “Are you serious?” She asked, her eyes wide as if she couldn't believe this little eight-year-old was familiar with the art of extortion. When he simply stood there, staring up at her with bright blue eyes, she sighed. “Okay,” she muttered, and began digging through her purse. “Okay, I can give you…”
She pulled out her hand and in it was a ketchup pack, a lollipop, two packs of opened gum and a bunch of crumpled papers. She picks up one of them. "This," she hands him a crumpled one dollar bill. “Here.”
Grace knows from tv shows that this was called hush money, but before he could barter his way through more of her goods - the lollipop being his prime target - Lora waves, already backing out of the playground lot and onto the concrete sidewalk.
“I’ll be back at dinnertime to pick you up,” she calls, before taking off through the gap in the wire fence. “So you better be here!”
With a sigh, Grace looks down at the crumpled dollar. There wasn’t much he could buy with it and not any stores nearby to try his luck so he tucks it into the back pocket of his shorts.
He looks around at the playground again. It truly was way too empty for such a big playground. The sun was too hot and everyone was probably hanging out at the public swimming pools. Grace didn’t know how to swim yet, a fact he was very much embarrassed about and planned to fix as soon as possible.
But for now he would have to be here, in this inferno of a playground. He glanced at the empty swings and decided he could stay in those for a while. It was a set of swings being held by wound rope. The texture of the ropes looked itchy and Grace rubbed at his hands uncomfortably at the idea of holding them but he got on anyway.
The seat was way above the ground and it took him a few embarrassing tries before he finally managed to sit down. His short legs dangled in the air, hovering above the sand floor.
He couldn’t rely on giving himself a boost using the ground to start swinging but he was fine with that. He knew how to get the swing moving without any help.
It was another cool trick his science teacher taught him. She taught the class about this trick during the physics unit. All he had to do was kick his legs forward when moving forward and tuck them back under the seat when moving backward.
So that’s what he did. He began pumping his legs forward and backward while keeping them locked together and slowly he felt himself moving.
It worked! This was the first time he got to try it for himself and it actually worked. Science really was the coolest thing ever.
Grace continued to swing himself for a few minutes, just enjoying the wind that whipped through his face and gave him a small relief from the blazing sun.
Then he registered a bunch of loud noises coming from nearby. He stopped moving his legs, which slowed down his swings and allowed him to look around towards the direction of the sudden ruckus.
It was coming from the sidewalk right next to the playground that led out into a neighborhood street. There was a group of boys circling the bike racks, all seated on old, rusty road bikes. And they were all older and taller than Grace.
Some were taller than Lora even. It sounded like they were teasing someone, but Grace couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly from so far away.
After a moment, they all laughed, a loud, jeering sound, and rode away. He kept watching for a moment as his swing came to a full stop. Eventually, when the cloud of dust they’ve kicked up settled, Grace could just about make out the outline of a boy who was left behind, unable to catch up to his friends because he doesn’t have a bike of his own. This one looked younger than the others but still obviously taller than Grace.
The boy looked angry at first, glaring at the direction the others left through while clenching his fists. But then he let out a huff and his anger wavered and turned into a pitiful expression of sadness. His head fell, causing his long, unruly black hair to obscure his face from Grace’s view.
Grace watched him for a moment. He felt incredibly bad for the boy. He didn’t know if those guys were his friends or just a bunch of bullies who felt like tormenting a random kid but Grace couldn’t help but think about his own experience with bullies at school.
He didn’t have many friends and most kids usually picked on him for wearing glasses and liking science. It was all childish bullying that he loathed having to deal with.
But as much as he tried to ignore and brush off the comments, he thinks it would all be much easier to deal with if he had a friend he could talk to about it. That boy standing alone on the sidewalk looked like he could use a friend as well.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, then called out to the boy from across the playground. “Hey!”
The boy seemed to startle at that. He looked up and turned his head towards Grace’s direction, the both of them making eye contact. The boy looked confused and glanced left and right as if Grace might have been calling for someone else behind him. When he found nobody around he looked back at Grace and pointed at himself as if asking, 'You talking to me?’
Grace nodded enthusiastically, causing his big glasses to slip off his face and hang down his jaw. He picked them back up, adjusted them on his face and began waving his arm, beckoning the boy to come to him.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment but then curiosity won and he began slowly approaching. He stopped near the swings, a confused expression still evident on his face.
“What do you want?” He asked, frowning down at the blond boy.
Grace didn’t let that deter him, though. He flashed the best and brightest smile he could muster and extended his arm out, waiting for a handshake. The boy stared at his hand for a beat and then took it with a little hesitancy; he was getting even more confused now.
“It’s nice to meet you!” Grace exclaimed, making use of the lesson in manners his parents gave him. “I’m Ryland! What’s your name?” He asked.
The boy startles at the question and stares at Grace, like no one’s asked for his name before, or even cared to ask. In a quiet and unsure manner he mutters, “Um, I’m Simon.”
Grace smiles again and lets go of Simon’s hand, who stares at said hand for a moment before letting it hang at his side, the oversized sleeves of his shirt pooling over it and hiding it from view.
Simon’s clothes, now that Grace noticed them, looked too big on him. His shirt sleeves looked wrinkled like he’d been scrunching them up, trying to stop them from pooling over his hands. The black and red hoodie he wore over it reached his mid-thigh and had short sleeves that were obviously torn out to make them short, and his pants went all the way to the ground, the ends looking dirty and scruffy from constantly being walked over.
His entire outfit looked out of place on him, like it was meant to be worn by someone else, someone older.
But Grace didn’t comment on it, he had manners after all. Instead, he pointed at the empty slide next to him and looked at Simon expectantly. “Wanna swing with me?”
Simon seemed to consider the suggestion and then nodded, swallowing hard like he still hasn’t gotten over his initial surprise. “Yeah, sure.”
He walks over awkwardly and sits down easily on the swing, his longer legs making him the perfect height for the swing. Grace huffs quietly in jealousy. He and his stupid short legs, it wasn’t fair.
Simon began swinging himself by digging his feet in the sand and pushing himself backwards. He did this a few times with weak kicks until he was maintaining a slow and lazy momentum back and forth. He looked back up at Grace, who was watching him with fascinated eyes. It’s so easy to swing when you have long legs, but longer legs would make it harder to swing by pumping your legs through the air and in Grace’s honest opinion, he believes that the latter is way cooler and more fun to do. He supposes having short legs wasn’t that bad then.
Simon looks at him through his overgrown bangs, looks down at Grace's feet hovering over the ground and then back up at his face. “Do you…um…" he begins unsurely. “Do you need me to swing you?”
He must’ve thought Grace couldn’t swing himself because of his height. He raises his chin up high. “Nope! I know how to swing myself without touching the ground.” He declares proudly.
Simon raises an eyebrow at that. “Really? How?” He asks, leaning forward in curiosity. Grace suddenly felt excited at the prospect of showing someone his cool science trick. He adjusts himself on the seat and grips both of the itchy ropes at his side.
“Like this,” he says, and begins kicking his legs again in the same forward and backward motion. Simon watches in intrigue as Grace begins picking up speed. He stops pumping his legs and lets the momentum he’s built swing him back and forth.
He looks back at Simon, his swing had went still and he was looking at Grace with a quiet, impressed expression. “That’s cool. Didn’t know you could do that.”
“Right?” Grace exclaims excitedly. Of course it was cool, he’s glad Simon agrees with him. “My science teacher taught me about it.”
Simon nods and looks down at his own legs. “Maybe I can try it. So you just kick your legs, right?” He asks.
“Yeah, but you have to kick both at the same time. Also, to go even faster, you can move your chest in the opposite direction of where your legs are kicking.” Grace explains, kicking his legs again as a demonstration. “So when you’re kicking forward, lean yourself backward, and when tucking your legs, lean forward.”
Simon seemed to take in the instructions with determined seriousness and began copying Grace. Due to his longer legs, he had to maneuver his feet around whenever he was tucking or kicking them, but even with the awkward angle of his kicks, he also began picking up speed.
And due to those same longer legs, Simon was swinging with greater speed than Grace could achieve and he found himself once again green with envy.
Darn tall people and their tall people privileges.
They both continued swinging in silence for a few minutes until eventually Simon began sinking his feet to the floor and stopping his swing entirely. It took Grace longer to stop for obvious reasons he doesn’t feel like mentioning anymore.
Simon got off his swing first. His hair looked even crazier now than it did before, and he looked refreshed, no longer as guarded or sad. His mouth did this weird aborted motion, like he was about to smile but quickly twisted his lips to the side, making it look more like a grimace.
He schooled his expression and shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Let’s do something else, this is boring.” He motioned at the other structures around the playground.
Grace blinked at him in surprise. He knew he was the one who called Simon over first and asked him to swing with him, but now Simon was the one suggesting they do something else. Together. He was asking them to keep hanging out. And Grace would have to be some world-class moron if he refused.
He practically jumped an ungraceful monkey leap off of the swing in his excitement and ended up slipping on the sand and falling on his butt. He quickly got up and dusted himself off in record time. Falling and clumsily knocking into objects is a common occurrence for Grace. He could shrug them off at best and end up with a space-themed bandage on his knees or elbows at worse.
“What do you wanna do?” He asks, a huge smile spread on his face.
Simon blinks at him in bewilderment. His mouth was slightly agape at Grace’s little display. He looked like he wanted to say something for a second but then closed his mouth and schooled the shock away. He looks around the playground for a moment, deciding on what they should do next.
“I’ll race you to the slides.” Was all the warning he gave before turning around and sprinting towards the slides. Grace stared in shock and quickly took off after him.
“Hey! That isn’t fair! You’re supposed to do a countdown for a race!”
-
They end up playing a few rounds of tag afterward, though Grace had to stop once and inform Simon crossly that taking off his shoe and beaning Grace with it from across the playground does not count, which earned him a rather sullen sorry from the boy.
Then Simon comes up with the idea of climbing their way across the playground without touching the ground once, and they make a game of it, pretending the sand is a deep sea all around them, and the sea is full of sharks.
It’s a new, exciting kind of fun, because Grace has played Floor Is Lava with his parents before, but he’s never played Sea is Shark.
Grace’s toe dipped into the treacherous sea at one point in time when he missed a rung on the monkey bars and Simon had to haul him back into the safety of their 'ship.'
“That didn’t count,” he said quickly, his mouth curled into the tiniest pout. “I was only in the water for a second.”
But Simon wouldn’t have any of Grace’s excuses. “Tell that to the sharks," he says, trying to hide a grin by twisting his lip to the side again. “They’ve probably eaten half your leg by now.”
In retaliation, Grace shoves Simon. It was weak but enough to cause the boy to stagger backwards and step into the sea of sharks. “Now we’re both missing a leg.”
Before they knew it, the hours had run down, and the sun was starting to set, the sky overhead cast the clouds with the deep purple of plums. Grace looked around the playground and saw that the four other people who were here initially were long gone. They were both alone at the playground.
They were at the monkey bars as Simon attempted to do pullups. He managed six clean ones before his arms started shaking from the strain while Grace gave up one and a half pullup in and just sat on top.
They’d been playing around for hours but it didn’t feel that long to Grace. Time really does go faster when you’re having fun. He wonders if there’s a scientific explanation to that, he’ll have to ask Ms. Wanda when he gets back to school. He stares at the sky some more, as if glaring at it long enough would will the sun to come back so they could hang out more.
“I think it's almost dinnertime," Grace announces, frowning when no amount of glaring turned back time.
“So?” Simon asks. He seemed to have given up on the pullups and was also now lounging on top of the monkey bars, lazy. He’s found a way to swing himself up top and sit there like he’s lord of the mountain, though he doesn’t seem to mind sharing that lordship with Grace sometimes.
“So, my babysitter’s gonna be coming back to pick me up,” says Grace, with a great and heavy sigh. Because any moment now, Lora will be arriving to spoil their fun.
As if summoned by her mere mention, Lora’s shrill voice rings out from across the playground. “Grace!” she calls. “C’mon! Time to go home!”
Grace groans and at Simon’s questioning look, he nods. “That’s Lora,” he says, making a face.
Simon grabs onto a bar, maneuvers his body and gracefully moves across the monkey bars so he’s sitting next to him. “Why’d she call you Grace?” He frowns.
“It’s my other name, people usually call me that,” he replies, glancing at Simon with a smile. “Only people I’m close to get to call me Ryland.”
Simon's eyes widened at that, a faint blush beginning to paint his face before he quickly hid it by dropping his chin to his chest. “Cool.”
“Grace!” Lora shrieked again, louder this time.
Grace lets out an audible huff. “Hold on!” he yells back, turning to face Simon with a hopeful expression. “Same time tomorrow?”
He has more ideas of games they could play, and if he can borrow some of his dad’s old baseball gear, they can have a whole afternoon of fun.
“Can’t promise anything," Simon says, frowning. “But I’ll try.”
An I’ll try is good enough for Grace for now, and as he makes a kamikaze leap from the monkey bars, bounding off to meet with Lora, he waves back with a cheery, “See you tomorrow!”
Simon waves back with a quieter bye, as he’s left sitting on the monkey bars by himself.
And even when Grace and Lora turn the corner and he can’t see Simon anymore, Grace just keeps on waving, because he knows Simon is still waving too.
-
The next day, Lora once again drops Grace off at the playground to meet her friends at the hair salon. He doesn’t let her leave before paying up as he holds his hand out expectantly. She huffs and hands him another dollar bill before storming off.
Grace pockets the dollar and begins looking around. He finds Simon already waiting for him at the swings.
“Simon!” Grace calls, his small satchel of baseball gear bouncing behind him as he runs toward the swings. “You came!” He stops in front of the boy who pauses his lazy swinging to look at him.
“I said I would,” he shrugs. “What’d she give you that money for?”
Guess he saw that. “It’s hush money,” Grace explains. “One of my parents' rules for the babysitters is they aren’t allowed to let me out of the house by myself, but she does it anyway. So in exchange for not telling my parents, I get money.” He smirks, fairly proud of himself for that system.
Simon nods in approval to Grace’s extortion of his babysitter. “How much do you have then?” He asks.
“Right now, two dollars,” he says. If she continues going out every day and dropping him off at the playground, though, he’ll probably have around thirty dollars by the end of the summer. If he doesn’t spend the money, that is. Grace doubts he has the self-control to not buy a bunch of snacks the first chance he gets. Not like Lora would be snitching on him after all.
Grace looks at Simon again. He was wearing the same clothes he was wearing yesterday but his hair looked a little tamer, as if he’d run a comb through it a few times and called it a day.
That’s too bad, because with the amount of games Grace had in mind for them to do, Simon’s hair would inevitably get messy by the end.
Simon seemed to have the same eagerness to play as Grace did because he swiftly got off of his slide to stand in front of him. “So, what do you wanna do?”
Grace smiles and reaches behind him, breaking out the worn-out baseball gloves his dad bought a few years back so they could play catch at the park. They only ever played once and the gloves were immediately forgotten about and left in the garage. “Let’s play catch.”
Simon tosses the beat-up baseball Grace hands him in the air, and although it takes him a moment to get used to the idea of playing with one - as if no one’s ever bothered to explain the concept of baseball or catch to him - they spend the afternoon playing catch until it’s almost too dark to see anymore.
At some point Grace gets distracted by a cute dog going on a walk with its owner and gets a baseball hurled at his head. He falls back on his butt, his glasses getting knocked out and landing on his lap. He presses on the side of his head where the ball hit.
He hears Simon yell Headshot!, but when he looks up, Simon’s expression suddenly falls, looking startled.
“Are you crying? Shit, did I throw it too hard? I’m sorry.” Simon panics, approaching Grace like he was a fragile thing. From hearing his words did Grace realize that he was crying. But that was nothing to be shocked about, Grace cries all the time. His mom used to tell him it was because he rarely ever cried as a baby, so all those tears that were held back were now overloaded and would come out every chance they got. Grace thought that was just her way of making him feel better about the fact he was more sensitive than other kids.
‘Crybaby’ was what his classmates called it. Grace begged to differ, because most of the time he wasn’t crying because he was sad or anything, his body was just dramatic. His body was the crybaby, not him.
By now Simon was kneeling on the floor, his hands hovering near Grace without actually touching him and an incessant amount of sorrys and muttered swears coming out of his mouth. He looked panicked and way out of his element.
“It’s okay,” Grace reassured, grabbing his glasses from his lap and adjusting them back on his face. “It didn’t even hurt. You throw like a girl.” He teases.
Simon huffs. “Shut up, you’re literally crying. It definitely hurt.”
“Nuh uh,” Grace denies. It kinda hurt, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, he pushes himself up on his feet. “C’mon, let's keep playing.”
Simon quickly jumps up and shakes his head. “No, let’s do something else.”
Grace frowns at him, although Simon would comment unhelpfully that it was more of a pout. “But I’m fine! I swear!” He insists.
“Sure,” Simon says, not looking like he agreed but not wanting to argue about it either. “But we’ve been playing for hours. I wanna do something else.”
Grace continues to pout but agrees anyway. Because Simon was right, they have been playing for hours, but Grace doesn’t think he’d mind if they just continued playing one thing forever. Having a friend is the best thing ever and they’ve only known each other two days.
Simon finally suggests that they scratch some X’s and O’s into the sand for a while, Grace agrees and they go to crouch in an open area near the swings. The sand was bumpy and covered in small footsteps so Simon used his hand to swipe and pat at the floor until it was nice and flat.
They play a few games of Tic Tac Toe since the official plastic tiles were being used by toddlers, who paw mindlessly at the tiles, simply delighted to see them turn different colors on each side. There are red X’s, green O’s, and blue triangles, the last of which neither Grace nor Simon can figure out the purpose of.
“They don’t even know how to play,” Grace complains, with a great disdain that he’s picked up from Simon, as they watch the toddler invasion before them. With the number of them swarming around today as opposed to yesterday, it’s hard to make up and play the games they want to.
“Yeah, well, they’re babies,” Simon shrugs, as if that explains everything. Despite his own contempt for the happily drooling toddlers stumbling around wrecking everything, he’s never called Grace a baby. He wonders for the first time exactly how old Simon was, because he sometimes acted way older than he looked and decides he can find out by just asking the boy himself.
“Hey, how old are you?” Grace asks, adjusting his glasses with his wrist because his fingers were all sandy and he didn’t want to get that all over the lenses.
Simon looks up at the question and seems to think about it for a moment. Grace wonders for a split second if Simon doesn’t even know his own age but then the boy answers. “Eight. Why?”
“What!?” Grace’s eyes bug out. He gapes at Simon like he just told him the sun was about to explode. “No way! You’re my age??”
Simon seemed taken aback by that reaction and his expression gets somewhat defensive. “Yeah? Why’s that so shocking?”
“I just thought you’d be older than me,” Grace explains. “‘Cause you’re, like, way taller.”
Simon’s shoulders relax and he just shrugs, like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “You’re just small.”
"No, I’m not…” He counters weakly, his lips tugging into a pout. “What month were you born?”
“June.” Simon leans back lazily on his arms, their game of Tic Tac Toe long forgotten at this point.
“I’m older than you! But you’re still taller. How is that fair?” Curse this universe and its perpetual habit of making Grace’s life more difficult than it should be.
“Why does it matter? You’re still eight and have a lot of growing left to do.” Simon explains, once again acting like some wise adult giving ignorent little Grace some adult wisdom. “You’ll get taller eventually.”
“Taller than you?” Grace asks, eyes widening hopefully. Simon scoffs and ruffles his hand through Grace’s hair, making his curls stand in every direction.
“In your dreams, pipsqueak."
Grace groans and slaps his hand away, trying to comb his hair back into a neater state. When he looks back at Simon with a half-hearted frown, the boy is still looking at him with a warm expression. His mouth was twitching like he was about to smile but then twisting down and away.
Before he could say anything, Lora comes calling for him again from across the playground. She’s got some shopping bags slung low on one arm that Grace has no intention of helping her carry. Her stuff, her problem. Even if his mother would scold him for not being gentlemanly.
“Same time tomorrow?” Grace asks before he scrambles to meet Lora. He draws in a deep breath and holds it, watching Simon, waiting.
Simon hesitates this time, and though he doesn’t beam brightly back, the tiny grimace that Grace has come to know as Simon’s way of sort-of-smiling that he finally offers back is enough.
“Same time tomorrow." Simon nods firmly.
Grace lets all the air escape his lungs at once, a giant breath of relief. “Great!”
And as Grace waves his goodbyes and turns from the playground, he’s got a bounce in his step and a warm feeling in his heart because he’s got stuff to look forward to and things to dream up.
He’s got a friend to hang out with!