Dream or Memory?

A young Ethan, nearly but not quite 11, sits on a rock, fuming.

The game was hide and seek, and Ethan had been thoroughly sought.

The woods, a small stretch of forest between town and several houses, was the playing field, and never in his life has Ethan felt so disadvantaged. The local kids knew the woods like the back of their hands, and therefore all the best hiding places.

And all the ones that were better than they seemed.

The rock was ‘jail’, and he had to wait in jail until all the kids were caught.

“Stupid jail,” Ethan mumbles, having never heard of such a rule outside of Green Valley.

Being found first was bad. Being found in less than a minute was worse. But nobody else being found yet was salt on the wound the little boy could barely handle.

Tears welled in his eyes, and Ethan rubs them away in frustration. More replaced their lost brothers, but Ethan let these ones linger. Nobody was around to see them anyway…

“Are you okay?” A small voice asks, making Ethan jump.

Whipping his head to the side, Ethan notes somebody, obviously the second out, making their way towards him and the rock. They got close, only a scant few feet away, Ethan so caught up in his own frustrations that he didn't notice.

“I’m fine,” Ethan wipes his eyes again, turning away from his new jailmate. “Sun was in my eyes.”

“Oh,” the smaller kid, now standing very close, shuffles. “Okay.” They sit on the rock next to him, brushing up against Ethan’s side as they settle in. Frowning, Ethan rolls his eyes. The rock is barely big enough for the two of them, how the hell is anybody else supposed to sit on it?

And of course they would be second. A tag along, the black-haired kid was with Bobby, his mother insisting they bring them along. They were a couple of years younger than everybody else, and nobody was fond of the idea of playing with a ‘baby’.

“You’re friends with Bobby?” The younger child asked.

Ethan scoffed, the question ridiculous. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Ethan taps his foot impatiently. How long are they going to take?

“You don’t know for sure?”

Smacking his lips, Ethan tries to bite back his frustration. “Well, it doesn't always feel like it.”

“Oh.” The black-haired child shifts.

A minute of silence passes.

“Ethan?”

“What?” Ethan glances back slightly, not really remembering telling the younger kid his name. That annoys him for some reason, and his biting tone is the result.

“Is jail like ‘house’?”

“What?”

“Playing ‘house’. Is jail like playing house?”

Ethan shakes his head slightly, but realizes he needs to say something.