The grass crunched under the strength of the rake. Thin blades of dead green flattened against the powdery dust, small puffs of red and brown billowing up and settling back down on dirty work boots. A line of light foot prints lead to the spot, the spacing spread widely but clean, the indents careful not to crush any seeds.

     Nimble, thin fingers wrapped cautiously around the wooden stem of the rake, their touches hesitant, fearful of splinters. The rake’s teeth dug into the ground once more as the boy lurched it forward, eating into the few grass slivers left and digging into the red-brown dirt. The sun blazed behind him, it’s rays hugging his back and petting its good work from the day prior on his neck. Most of his skin was a soft gentle brown, but the patch on the back of his neck burned with a darker color from the sun’s welcome. He let go of the garden tool with one hand and flexed his cramping fingers, opening and closing his fist. With a shake of his head, he drew his hand down his tired face, wiping the beads of sweat from his cheeks. He placed his hands firmly back on the stick and was about to continue raking when he heard a noise. He frowned, looking up abruptly to see another boy hammering his way toward him, running so fast he tripped and slid through the dirt, the clean imprints of boots scraped aside by messy streaks.  

     The boy blinked in shock and confusion, his grip loosening significantly on his garden tool as the boy rushed up to him. Red hair blew around his forehead, certain strands clinging to his face from sweat. He sucked in heaving breaths, looking at the garden boy with fear filled, hopeful hazel eyes. The Garden Boy was taken aback for a moment, staring at the scared boy stooped over in front of him, clinging tightly to his knees for support. He looked much younger than himself, with shorter red hair parted neatly, that should usually curve gently over his forehead but on that day was swung messily across his face. Despite the obvious terror and sweat that inhabited the boy, his uniform was clean and precise on his petite form, his tie neatly fastened around his collar. The kind of boy who kept up appearances. The Garden Boy opened his mouth, not exactly intending to speak, maybe just to gawk at the child, or give him a questioning look. No such luck, however as The Garden Boy’s thoughts were interrupted by shouts ahead of him. He halted and focused on the way the neat dressed boy had come, shielding his eyes with a hand to see better. He squinted and fully noticed the band of other boys chasing over the hill, shouting at one another. The realization struck him as to why the other boy had been running. The Garden Boy quickly looked down at him and bobbed his head backward to the large ferns of vegetables, indicating to the red-headed kid that he should run for the corn.  

      The other child was confused only for a moment before his eyes adjusted to the tall stalks of corn just beyond them both and he nodded his head in a quick thanks. “Don’t tell them I’m here, please.” he begged for a second, peaking over his shoulder frightfully before giving one last hopeful glance at The Garden Boy and sprinting toward the corn. The Garden Boy watched him for but a second as he disappeared into the corn before turning back to his work with his good friend the rake.  

     A small pack of boys came rushing to the edge of the farm patch, just beyond the border of the dirt. “Yo! Hello, you there-with the rake!” the leader of the small gang shouted to The Garden Boy. He rolled his eyes at the child before him slowly stopping his work and leaning on his staff with irritation clearly evident in his almond-black colored eyes as he regarded the group with a deadly glare. A couple of the ravenous group darted their eyes at The Garden Boy who returned their unsavory glare with a scowling glower, daring them to look him in his eyes. They took the option against his suggestion and two looked away quickly, as if afraid to meet The Garden Boy’s eyes. The leader of the pack however, was not subdued by The Garden Boy’s dark stare as he straightened his spine and puffed out his button lain shirt chest. Humorous that such a well dressed fellow would be so condescending. He looked so prim and proper and yet he was trying so very hard to look anything but, like a street boy. He wasn’t one though, so how could he pretend?

    “Tell me,” the leader surveyed The Garden Boy’s garments with a look of distaste. “You seen a little redhead kid run by?” he asked, gesturing loosely with his hands to his own slicked down hair. The Garden Boy cocked his head and scrunched up his face, pretending to think very hard about the matter before he dropped the look and shrugged, shaking his head. The almost black mop atop his head bounced and several strands curled across his sweat stricken forehead. The leader glared for a moment, placing a cream hand on his well dressed hip. “You sure?” he grunted irritably. The Garden Boy smiled faintly, a rare sight, and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders once again. The leader scowled, obviously frustrated by The Garden Boy’s lack of language. “He came this way, you must’ve seen him?” he snapped, his fingers drumming an angry march on his hip.  The Garden Boy’s smile didn’t leave his face as he shrugged and shook his head once again. The leader gave a furious snort and an exasperated huff as he threw his hand up. “What is with you and the no talking!? Are you retarded or what!?” The Garden Boy’s smile dropped and he glared, a snarl barely gracing the air. His fist clenched the rake’s handle and a splinter pricked his thumb. He shook his head stiffly, he was not in fact, he was smarter than at least half those boys in the view of logic and reason. The leader scoffed at him. “You sure hotshot?” he gave a leering grin. “Cause you sure seem stupid.” The Garden Boy rolled his eyes with a huff, oh the ignorance and childish nature of these stupid hoodlums. Why must they persist? What had they to gain from being rude? The pack of boys seemed to realize after a moment that The Garden Boy truly didn’t know where the redhead kid was, and if he did, well he sure wasn’t going to tell them such. And so, with many groans and grumbles about the group, they turned to leave The Garden Boy to his work. He watched them go unmoving, his eyes following them with a deadly glow. Once they were safely over the hill and out of eyesight he turned back to the carrot patch his rake had been so enamored with and started his work back up.

      A moment later, as his rake was scratching through the dirt, he heard a loud rustle and a few footsteps as the redhead kid made his way out of the corn. He didn’t bother to look up as the kid stumbled from the stalks, coughing slightly and brushing off his clothes rapidly. Dust sparked off his grey vest as he tried to straighten it against the button up shirt quickly. The Garden Boy raised his head for a moment, reviewing the boy, his dark eyes surveying him with interest. The redhead kid looked up from his cleaning of the garments he was draped in and flashed a white smile at The Garden Boy. He walked towards him, straightening his loose collar with a wide grin, buttoning the unclipped circles and polishing them with his thumb until they shone in the sunlight. “I uh… Thank you,” the red-haired boy smiled feebly and shifted his feet in the dirt. The Garden Boy’s eyes were drawn immediately to it and he narrowed the brown orbs into slits as his perfect lines in the dirt were shoved aside by the boy’s feet into horrid looking piles. He looked up, his face dark and foreboding, telling with no voice what it desired. The other boy tilted his head like a small puppy, which he very much resembled, his pale carrot curls falling to one side as he looked at the glare that was being cast upon him. As if all at once he realized what was happening as The Garden Boy drew his angry glare back at the ground and the boy yipped in panic and hopped up, trying with no avail to get off the dirt. The Garden Boy rolled his eyes at the absolute horror the other boy was portraying. He held up one hand to signal the boy to stop his frantic attempts, as it was only making the situation worse, as he used his other hand to prop himself up on the rake. The red haired boy saw the signal and slowly screeched to a halt, standing stiff in the dirt. The Garden Boy shook his head and turned away, going back to his work.

     The red haired boy was confused by the lack of communication and carefully pecked his way through the dirt, tiptoeing on the ground as he made his way towards where The Garden Boy was raking. “You uh… you helped me out a lot…,” the red head rubbed the back of his creamy pale neck. “B-back there.” He mumbled a little, his voice soft and hesitant. Without looking back at the other child, The Garden Boy nodded his head, he knew that he had aided in the red haired kid’s escape. The red haired kid chewed on his lip with big hazel eyes staring at the back of The Garden Boy’s dark brown hair. “I just uh… I-” he paused, swallowing, his face drooping as he realized the only thing worth saying.. “Thank you.”

     The Garden Boy nodded, raking a dark line in the clay. The red haired boy frowned, he was not the kind of child to leave when someone continued to stay mute. He twitched his fingers instinctively. Navy blue glasses caught the light and he adjusted them on the bridge of his freckle ridden nose. “So uh… What’s your name?”

     The Garden Boy shook his head with a shrug. The boy swallowed, tapping his fingers together. In another situation he would have run, he knew he was pushing his boundaries, he knew he was wearing on The Garden Boy’s patience but he stayed. A pluck of courage shifted in his being and for the first time in a long time, he declared battle first. “I’m-I’m Hal… Hal Peters.” he stuttered. The Garden Boy paused his work and raised an eyebrow, turning around to face ‘Hal’.

     Hal shivered under his dark gaze and glanced away quickly. “H-Hi…” Hal mumbled, holding out a hand for the other boy to take. The Garden Boy tilted his head at the strange specimen before him. His entire body weight balanced on the rake as he leaned forward, both tan hands resting firmly on its staff. The Garden Boy sighed at the absolute hope in Hal’s eyes and glanced at his hand before giving an exasperated huff. He reached out and took Hal’s soft grip in his own, shaking slowly, but not a sound parted from his lips. The Garden Boy held his hand for a second before letting go and leaning back to his staff. Hal blinked, his long eyelashes batting the dust particles from his face. “A-and your name is?” he asked hesitantly, tilting backward on his heels.

The Garden Boy shook his head Not yet.

     If Hal was in anyway irked by the lack of noise, he didn’t show it, he only smiled warmly. “Well maybe in time you’ll tell me, hm?”

The Garden Boy shrugged, closing his eyes, maybe he would, but the chances were thinner than most.  Hal smiled, a slim chance was better than no chance and he greatly accepted any that came his way. “Well um…” Hal stuttered, he grinned sheepishly, massaging the back of his neck delicately as he darted his eyes away from The Garden Boy. “I…” he gave a sigh, ceasing the sad attempt at communication and let his arms dangle limp at his sides. “You can’t imagine how thankful I am that you kept me hidden from those imbeciles.” He grimaced slightly. The Garden Boy bobbed his head, he knew of imbeciles and their idiotic, savage ways. He lent Hal a small smile which Hal greatly returned. “I-I really don’t how I can repay you.” The Garden Boy shook his head, waving his left hand in the air, no physical thanks was necessary. Hal gave a look of what appeared to be sadness. “No but I-I really would like to thank you for helping me out.” The Garden Boy shrugged harder, shaking his head. Dark strands of darker hair curled over his eyes and he brushed the annoying pieces away with a grunt, the only noise he’d made so far. Hal seemed honestly surprised, if but for a moment at the sudden noise. The sudden, dark gravely lurch that slid roughly from The Garden Boy’s voice. Hal sighed softly, frowning deeply in thought as he looked at the other boy. “I really have to repay you.” He seemed determined, placing his hands on his neatly ironed pants hips. “I won’t-” He took in a careful breath, looking at The Garden Boy with a sense of hope. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

      The Garden Boy gave a reluctant grunt, glaring lightly at Hal. It wasn’t exactly a ‘hard’ glare per say, and he definitely wasn’t mad at Hal. He was honestly a little bit admiring of the small boy’s confidence to a stranger, even if it was slightly lacking. It made The Garden Boy, as much as he hated to admit it, like him more. There was a moment of silence between the two before The Garden Boy gave a reluctant nod. Hal’s face immediately lit up with a smile.  

      “Can we see each other at lunch tomorrow?” He asked, bobbing up and down on the heels of his shoes. The Garden Boy stared at him a moment before nodding. Hal gave a massive grin. “Where shall we meet?”

The Garden Boy stared at Hal for another second, perplexed. Then, seeming to realize the perfect place, he turned and pointed a dark hand far off at an old apple tree maybe half a mile off. Archenhiemer’s apple tree. Every boy at the school knew about that tree. It was the oldest thing on the entire farm, older than the school itself.

     Hal watched the tree carefully before he gave a wide grin. “That’s perfect! I’ll see you there tomorrow for lunch!” He glanced at his watch, seeming only then to realize that he actually did have places to be. “Oh, so sorry, I’ve got to run!” The ginger haired boy then turned and began to make his way through the raked over dirt, ruining it once again with his shoes. The Garden Boy let out a long sigh as he watched Hal run off. The sun beat down on his face, hot and heavy and something clicked inside him. He knew what he wanted to do.

“Ah!” He gave a loud grunt-like shout, and waved his rake at the back of Hal. Hal, upon hearing the shout, blinked in shock as he turned around, hazel eyes shimmering. The Garden Boy stared for awhile at him, their eyes locked together. And then he finally decided what he wanted to do. He didn’t do it all that often. But he found himself wanting to tell Hal. “M-my na-name is Gar-Garth-th. I-I’m the-the garden-the garden b-boy.” He let out a staggered, breathy call to Hal. He stood there for a moment, waiting for ridicule. A stutter wasn’t something that which he should be proud. No such remark came. Hal only let a wide smile come over his face. He dipped his head in a nod before waving, smiling wide.

     “Alright, Garth, it’s a pleasure to know you. Thank you again.” That was all Garth, the garden boy, needed to hear in order to smile. He hadn’t heard his name in a while. And it felt wonderful to hear it come from Hal’s lips. “But I do really have to go, I’m sorry.” Hal said, hooking a thumb back up the hill.

      Taken a bit by shock, Garth nodded quickly, bobbing his head. Yes, Hal could leave. He wasn’t holding the ginger hostage or anything. “Goo-good-bye-ye, Ha-hal.” He replied, forcing his voice carefully and he grinned.

      Hal smiled, prideful and just before he ran away, he waved a hand to Garth happily. “Good-bye, Garden Boy!”  

      And Hal was gone. And then it was just The Garden Boy. The Garden Boy and his rake.