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Four

The brisk December air rubbed against Kit's bare knees as she stepped out of the house, but it wasn't as chilly as she'd expected. As she fell into step beside Harry, she was aware her entire body was warm. Ignorantly, she believed it was caused by the contrast from the warm house, or the few drinks she'd had, and not the prospect of being alone with her handsome childhood crush.

As they walked side-by-side down the driveway, the noise from the party inside dimmed, making way for the lull between Harry and Kit. She didn't want to feel awkward by the silence, but quietly walking alongside Harry for reasons unknown to her was unnerving. Biting her tongue from asking him why he wanted to walk in the cold with her, and just her, she exhaled, wracking her brain for a light conversation topic.

"Look!" she blurted out suddenly, her voice contrastingly loud against the hush. She pointed down the driveway, indicating to a tree stump across the narrow road. "Do you remember?" she wondered, not waiting for an answer before she bolted down the driveway and quickly crossed the street.

Harry snickered to himself, watching Kit run down the driveway, cocktail tress blowing against her winter white legs and heavy gumboots hindering her ability to run fast. He was surprised Kit had agreed to walk with him, but his ideas ended there. He knew nothing could – or would – happen with her, and he found himself wishing he could be disrespectful to the boyfriend he'd never met and make a move on her. But he couldn't, wouldn't. Being a gentleman was a real kick in the nuts sometimes.

"You didn't even look both ways!" Harry called out to Kit, breaking into a jog to catch up with her. He hoped she wasn't running to get away from him, but then reminded himself that they weren't eight. "Didn't you learn a thing in kindergarten?"

Kit hopped up onto the stump, spinning around to face Harry. "I learned how to be the King of the Castle!" she announced with a grin, triumphantly spreading her arms. "And you're the Dirty Rascal," she added tauntingly.

Harry exhaled loudly, catching his breath as he stopped in front of the stump. "Only because you had a head start," he told her, kicking at a piece of root protruding from the ground and knowing he'd have let her win a real race anyway. He gazed up at Kit, watching her toe her muddy boot against the wood before looking back at the house, trying to catch his bearings and recall the memory Kit so easily remembered.

"Was this the treehouse?" he asked after a moment, suddenly remembering the derelict fort, dangerously balanced in the large tree and inciting warnings from all of the parents on the road. When the property owners had discovered the neighbourhood children were sneakily playing in the treehouse, they boarded it up and wrote letters to the newspaper editor, scolding the parents on their lack of control over their offspring. But a few boards and nails hadn't stopped the rambunctious kids of Byley Road and though she would argue it to the death and blame her older brother, everyone knew the person who pried the first nail out of the moldy board was Kit. When the attempts to board up the treehouse didn't work, Mr. and Mrs. Thorton did the only thing they could think of, and chopped down the large oak tree.

"Ding, ding, ding!" Kit replied, her elbows tucked against her sides as she raised her fists and shook her hips in an odd celebratory dance. "Such a waste, isn't it?" Kit pondered, spinning in a slow circle, arms spread. "If the great man took the great axe, and cut down the great tree, and let it fall into the great sea, what a splish splash that would be!" she recited, easily remembering the old nursery rhyme from grade school.

Harry chuckled, watching the skinny free bird dance atop the stump. "At least it makes for a good stage now," he determined, deciding to do what'd wanted to do since Kit bounded onto the stump, and stepped up beside her. The base of the tree trunk wasn't overly large, and his stomach tumbled at their sudden close proximity.