Sky Blue

The New House

The old car drifted to a stop, rain splattering on the dirty windshield. Dean swung open the car door, hearing the familiar squeak. He splashed to the sidewalk and watched his father unstrap Sammy from the car seat in the back. A drop of water dripped from a strand of his hair onto the tip of his freckled nose.
Sam tottered over to stand next to Dean, reaching to wrap his little hands around Dean's thumb as they waited for their father to unload their bags from the trunk.
"Go inside, boys, it's raining," he called to them. He tossed the house keys, shiny and new, to Dean. Dean clambered up the concrete steps leading up to the front door. The white paint peeled pitifully and the doorknob was tarnished so that Dean could hardly see himself in it. He pushed the key into the hole and turned it, hearing the click that told him it was open. He creaked the door open and peered inside the front room. He stepped in and kicked his boots off on the mat. Sam sat on the floor and lifted his feet in the air for Dean to take his off for him.
"Come on, Sammy, you're almost 3," he laughed, pulling them off anyway. "You ought to be able to take your own shoes off." Sam pushed himself to his feet again and laughed. Dean looked around the room, decrepit of decorations except for a couch and a dusty coffee table. He took Sam's hand.
"Let's look upstairs, Sammy," he said, grinning. "You get your own room now!" Sam giggled.
"Okay, Dee!" Dean scooped up his brother in his arms and pounded up the arthritic stairs, brushing aside cobwebs in the doorframe at the top. He flipped the lights on and the floor illuminated.
The walls were  a creamy white color, and looked like they'd recently been repainted. The light washed the whole hall with a warm yellow glow. Dean pointed at the door to the left.
"That's yours, Sammy," he said. "Go have a look." Sam toddled to the room. He pushed open the door a squealed with approval. Dean peaked in, and smiled. It was perfect for Sam.
It had light yellow walls and a twin bed with maroon covers. There was a big chair and a huge bookshelf. Sam loved story books, but their father was always too busy to read to him, so Dean always did instead. Sam ran straight up to Dean.
"Dee!" He latched onto his leg. Dean smiled fondly and ruffled his hair. He picked his brother up again and wandered into his own room. Almost dropped Sam.
The walls were painted a light forest green to match the darker green of the bed covers. There was a ceiling fan waiting to start spinning at the flip of a switch and a lamp on the bedside table. The desk was a dark mahogany color with lots of drawers.
But Dean wasn't focused on the item in the room. He was looking at the window.
He stepped across the room for a better look at the view. The window faced the side of the house next to theirs, but it had a good view into the neighbors' back yard. There was a swing set, and on the swing set was a boy.
His dark hair was plastered to his face from the rain, and his yellow jacket was sticking to his body. His feet, clad in soaked, tattered tennis shoes, dragged in the mud. His head was bent foreword and his shoulders were hunched over. And for a moment, Dean forgot about what was happening and why they were here and why Sam was tugging at his pant leg saying his name over and over again.
"Dee, Dee, Dee!" Dean realized his face was resting on his hands, set on the window sill. "Who is that?" asked Sam.
"I don't know," Dean murmured, rising to his feet. "Come on, let's go help Daddy with our suitcases."
"Okay Dee!" Sam giggled and grabbed Dean's hand.