Dumping their backpacks inside the small shelter, they climbed in and sat side by side. It was a tight fit, the floor space only four feet by five, but Max didn’t mind at all. He liked being close to Kevin. In fact, as they sat there, legs crisscrossed Indian-style, they technically still had room to spare but ended up with knees touching anyway. Maybe Kevin liked being close to Max, too.
Still somewhat breathless, Max looked at his friend and smiled. There was literally no one on earth he’d rather be with. And it’d been that way since the first time they’d met. Kevin had walked into Max’s fifth-grade class a year ago, introduced as the new kid in town. And when given the choice of where he’d like to sit, he’d walked straight over and sat down next to Max. He’d smiled at Max, Max had smiled back, and they’d pretty much been inseparable since. Sure, Max had had other friends at the time, but there was just something about Kevin. They just clicked. And now, as he looked at his very best friend, Max couldn’t be more grateful that there’d been an empty seat beside him the day Kevin walked into his life.
Max took in every feature of his best friend’s face, just like he always did. He loved looking at Kevin. Didn’t know why, he just did. Loved his big, blue-grey eyes. Loved his short, dark blond hair. Loved the quirky way his lips curved when he smiled. A smile Max noticed Kevin made for him way more than he did anyone else. They were peas in a pod and Max knew they always would be.
Kevin flashed a boyish grin Max’s way, then tugged his backpack close and unzipped it. “Wanna trade baseball cards? My dad got me some new ones. Saw a couple that I think you might like.”
“Sure.” Max shoved his hand into his own backpack’s side pocket to dig out his card collection, too. But he quickly found something else instead. Something he’d been working on for over a week. Something intended for Kevin. Curling his fingers around the small piece, he pulled it free and looked at his fist. “Oh, uh, here. I made this for you.” He uncurled his fingers and offered it to Kevin. “I carved it from some of our tree fort’s scrap wood. With that pocket knife my dad gave me that I showed you.”
Kevin’s face lit bright as he eyed Max’s handiwork, completely forgetting about his cards. “For me?” He smiled and took Max’s offering. “Cool. What is it? A cat?”
Max laughed and sheepishly shook his head. “No. It’s an otter. I was gonna make a dog, but Mom said to be more creative. Said to pick an animal that had the same spirit qualities as you.”
“Spirit qualities?”
“Yeah, like your personality and stuff. I dunno. She’s always talking about Navajo tradition. Listed off a bunch, like foxes and bears, but the otter sounded most like you.”
Kevin’s smile did that quirky little curve. “Why am I like an otter?”
Max shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “’Cause they like to play, and help others, and share. Supposedly they’re a joy.”
“A joy?” Kevin studied his present. “I sound really great.”
Max grinned and bumped Kevin’s shoulder with his own. “Not that great. I almost carved you a snail.”
“A snail?” Kevin laughed. “What do they stand for?”
“I dunno.” Max laughed, too. “But I’m pretty sure it’s not speed.”
Kevin cracked up harder. “Shut up. I’m not slow. Just always end up racing a cheater.” He dropped his gaze back down to the otter. “Thanks for this, Max. It’s awesome.”
“Yup.” Max nodded. “Maybe I’ll carve me one next.”
Kevin met his eyes. “You totally should.”
“Yeah?” Max smiled. “Which one should I do?”
Kevin’s face screwed in thought. “I’m thinking a weasel. Or better yet, maybe a skunk.”
Max burst out laughing. “I don’t cheat. And if I stink it’s ‘cause I’m always around you.”
Kevin giggled and pocketed Max’s gift, then got back to rummaging for his cards. “Whatever you say. C’mon. Let’s trade. Gonna have to get going again soon.”
Max sighed and shoved his hand back into his backpack. He didn’t want to get going soon. He wanted to stay there with Kevin forever.
The sound of birds chirping and forest bugs chittering filled the break in conversation. Max glanced toward the sound of a snapping twig. A small brown squirrel darted over a downed log, then raced up the tree beside it. All around, speckles of sunlight speared through the leaves overhead. It was peaceful there. Secluded. Maybe they’d spot a deer…
“Check out this one of Mike Mussina. Man, I wish I could pitch like him.”
Max blinked from his reverie to look at Kevin’s cards. “Oh, yeah. Definitely want Moose.” Max sifted through his own cards in search of a worthy swap.
“Hmm. I got one of Mike Bordick… Jeff Reboulet… Arthur Rhodes… Brady Anderson…”