When the Sun Sets, the Moon and Mars Rise

            I met my first friends at age two on my block. Next door were the Tulanes, a rowdy horde of red-heads consisting of John and Andrew (twins), Kate, Peter, and later Skyy and Danny. Diagonally across the street were the Ruckets: two blonde haired brothers, Sam and Jake. Directly across the street were the McFaddens: five kids. Down the street were the McCarthy’s: two girls and a baby brother (after whom McCarthy trail at La Salle is named). And last but not least was Melanie Gottlieb down the street, a pretty girl with long blonde hair. (There were many more kids around the block, but this was our friend group.) We even had traditions.

            Every Saturday, most of us would wake up at seven in the morning and walk, if not in a stroller, the three blocks to Elcy’s Café inside the Glenside train station. We would eat candy and watch the trains go by, causing a big ruckus for the commuters and breakfast goers. Then we would hike back up the three block hill and play at someone’s house until nap time or dinner time. We would set up big forts and play house or ride bikes or play Bull Dog: a kind of hide-and-seek/tackle tag/capture-the-flag(human). After Sam, me and Melanie were the oldest, so we would play the parents in our blanket-fort house. This was ideal because Melanie was my first crush. After dinner in the summer, we would all roast marshmallows at the Tulane’s fire pit and catch fireflies in my neighboring backyard.

            However, our big pack would not last. The Ruckets and McCarthy’s moved away in middle school and the rest of us stopped going to the train station around the same time because we all started doing soccer or baseball or volleyball on Saturdays. Eventually most of us grew apart and went on to attend different high schools with our own afterschool activities.

            In kindergarten at Glenside Elementary, I met my next group of best friends, Joey and Hunter. We instantly hit it off and became the three amigos. Joey (black), Hunter (Asian), I (white) would run around pretending to dogfight and shoot each other out of the sky. We would wrestle and roll down the big, grass hill- affectionately named the sledding hill- beside the school during recess. But like many friendships, the amigos’ bond would crumble back into the dust from which it formed; prompted by an acidic agent that began eating away at our foundation. An agent named Hála (Hey-la).

            In third grade, there was a new girl in school and she was the most beautiful in all the land of Glenside Elementary- at least to me. Conceived in a swirl of chocolate and vanilla, Hála imbibed the best of both flavors with tan skin the color of caramel and complementing honey-colored, wavy hair. Shannon, my bubbly best friend from Aftercare (3:00-6:00pm), took Hála under her wing and invited her to meld with our Aftercare brew of friends that also included Nikyah and Alyssa. Shannon was the outgoing, super-friendly one who always seemed to be giggling. Nikyah was the quick-tempered, shade-throwing diva. Alyssa was the weird one who we always made fun of. Now that I think of it, we might’ve been bullies; always putting her down. But hey, you live and you learn. Hála was weird too, but in a good way. She was amiable to everyone and had charming quirks about her like her affinity for hugs and tickling and her two crooked front teeth. And I was the… boy? I don’t know.

Anyway, Hála and I had our traditions as well; albeit strange, elementary aged traditions consisting of sharing gum and drawing on each other with washable markers after Shannon, Nikyah, and Alyssa were picked up by their parents. Despite the beauty of all the girls, Hála was the only girl I saw. She had me eating out the palm of her hand, literally.

One late spring afternoon during Aftercare in fourth grade, she and I were sitting on the stoop of some stairs that overlooked the playground and the big grass hill. A warm, summer-heralding breeze blew through the greening trees, mingling with a setting sun to cast her face and dangling strands of wind-tussled hair in a haze of shimmering gold. She met my gaze with a sly smile and pulled the smuggled Hershey’s chocolate syrup bottle out from under her flowery shirt. “You naughty girl,” I smirked back. We had hatched an ingenious plan earlier that day to steal the syrup from the food table during a class party. I was to block her tiny body from view while she smuggled the syrup from the table. We fourth graders thought ourselves sneaky criminals.

“I’m naughty? You’re the naughty one!” she teased as she unscrewed the lid and poked a hole in the paper seal. Chocolate oozed from her finger as she pulled it out and then licked off the semi-viscous liquid with a dramatic mmmmm, savoring the flavor intentionally long.

“Give me some,” I nagged impatiently.

“No,” she goaded as she dunked her finger back in, swirling the too-sweet, condensed syrup around. When she lifted her finger to her mouth again, I made a swipe for the bottle. “Hey!” she scolded.

“Are you planning on the sharing? We equally worked for that bottle,” I tried to reason.

“You didn’t do anything. I did all the stealing,” she mumbled through her chocolate filled mouth. With a sigh I leaned over and started tickling her. “Stahpppp!” she cried through her laughter.

“Give me some!” I demanded, continuing my tickle attack.

“Okay-Okay! I’ll give you some.” My hands fell back to my sides and she regained her cool. She shot me a mock-angry glare before her face melted back into a smile. “You're a doorknob,” she muttered indignantly. I simply stuck my hand out, waiting. “You’ll eat it how I tell you to eat it,” she said as she screwed the nozzled lid back on and squirted some into her hand. “For the animal that you are,” she offered. I accepted, taking her hand in both of mine and running my tongue along her palm, lazily licking up the sweet, brown goo.

With a crooked smile and syrup oozing down my face, I drawled, “much obliged ma’am,” in our faux-western, Mr. K-mocking accent. “Your generosity is unparalleled,” I played sarcastically.

“I have never heard a more true statement in all my life,” she concurred in our affected, Mr. K lilt with a mischievous, crooked-toothed grin. We then laid back on our elbows, each taking swigs from the bottle like the western cowboy that Mr. K was and bantering away the afternoon into the haze of dusk; our affection for each other climbing to its peak.

But alas, like the sun setting behind the monkey bars, our connection would inevitably dim as well. Our paths eventually drifted apart into the abyss like two celestial bodies on their own gravitational trajectories, leaving behind the spark of their burned-out star.

Don’t despair though! When the sun sets, the moon and Mars rise like the silvery-platinum-blonde haired Spencer and the fiery, red-dyed haired Anna rose into my sky. Upon the collapse of the Hála-Shannon-Nikyah-Alyssa-and-I era, a new empire of friends would rise:  aforementioned Alyssa, easygoing Spencer, outgoing Anna, and her accompanying posse of Wyncote friends consisting of lumberjack-sized Ben, dreadlock-rocking Hunter (different Hunter), jokester Adam, and my dirty-mouthed self. We band of middle schoolers would burn just as brightly as the motley, train station crew; the diverse, dogfighting amigos; and the ill-fated, star-crossed lovers.