Sir Hikes A Lot (946 views)

Cliff smirked when she said he’d have to play nice to get invited to the alpacas – which made sense, he guessed, but he felt like he was going to be invited anyway! And he wasn’t terribly surprised she was native to California. She didn’t seem like she’d be the type to live so far from home, with how fondly she talked about it. It was sad, then, that his own home was so far away. A whole country away, basically.

”Do you get to go home to see them often? Your farm’s in this state, right?” He asked, though, he had to admit his attention was stolen by the contest they were having right now. Though he did wonder how far away her farm was. When he learned to drive, could he drive there to meet the alpacas? Maybe. ”Maybe you could design clothes for the alpacas. You know like... alpaca fashion. I bet people on the internet would eat that right up.”

He knelt down and began to pluck at some dark berries, wary of the thorns. Unlike his primal desire, he kept his motions slow and gentle so as to not squish the berry or prick his finger. He didn’t do it perfectly – some scratches got on his forefinger – but he didn’t linger on the pain and kept collecting all the berries he could see. It was less than he thought it would be and he frowned slightly.

”But idiots like to watch new things about their favorite things! Just to get mad. It’s dumb. But whatever, I don’t like movies that much anyways,” he said, well, he liked movies fine, but he wouldn’t say he was particularly passionate about them. ”I’ll have you know I only cut myself twice! I’m gonna be the berry-picking king by the end of this. I’ll overthrow you,” he grinned over his shoulder at her, showing off his collection of berries by shaking them.

”Yeah, that’s kind of hard when you haven’t been there in a while,” Cliff said, in response to Cleo, but he was also thinking about his home back in Springfield. He was no longer able to visit his old house in his dreams. He could remember small things – the rickety stair that his father always caught him on when he tried to go downstairs in the middle of the night, the way the cabinet in the sink never shit right, the way the woods entrance was three feet away from their front doorstep – but the big picture was spotty, with holes in it, like Swiss cheese. He couldn’t imagine being there anymore, and that scared him.

”Maybe they won’t know until they’re given the opportunity to model! I mean, they might look at themselves and fall in love,” like half of the models in this place. Comparing them to alpacas made Cliff snicker to himself. ”And I guess – it’s kinda fun to make yourself mad sometimes though! Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe I just like to be angry!”

He narrowed his eyes at her and then glared down at the cuts on his hands. ”I’m only getting two, and that’s because it’s been forever since I picked any berries! It isn’t an accurate representation of my skill level.” He continued to gather berries until his bush was vacated of them and then straightened up, marching on towards the next bush as they approached the first hill of the path.

”Oh, uh...” Cliff didn’t expect Cleo to pick up on his tone of voice. She was more observant than he pegged her for initially. And he really didn’t know how much of himself he wanted Cleo to know right now. She was nice, and fun, but things between them right now were simple and easy. ”Yeah, I come from Maine. So pretty far away... but my mom moved a few years ago so I guess most people wouldn’t think of it as my home.”

He thought back to the time he’d gotten into a fight with his housemate, when she told him he was stupid for pinning after a place that had probably changed so much without him. What if Springfield wasn’t his home anymore? He shook his head at the thought, trying to will the dark thoughts away. He forced a snicker at her comments about the alpacas, and was halfway through responding that she’d better take pictures before they got famous, when he saw her bolt ahead towards a bushel of berries – on his side of the way!

”No fair! Cheater!” He yelled, running to catch up to her. He bent down and started plucking the berries she hadn’t gotten yet, more aggressively than he probably should have. ”You have a whole field of bushes on your side!”

Bushes that were empty, but hey! That wasn’t Cliff’s fault! He frowned over at her, noticing she had most of the berries collected from the bush already. "You're sure making me angry right now!"

Despite himself, Cliff couldn’t fight the twitch of a smile that came onto his face when Cleo, without hesitation, said that Maine was his home. Or, well, she just said that as long as he thought that was true it was. Most people who he said he was from Maine always commented that it was weird he was so far away. His mother insisted on making California her home. And when other people talking about Maine being far away it was always insisting that they felt bad it was so far. No one had ever really taken it to mean something nice like Cleo was doing. No one made it unusual and special before... it made Cliff feel a little lighter even though she clearly wouldn’t know how much those words meant to him.

”Yeah, you’re right. It is still my home”. He agreed, and even though she was still devouring the bush on his side of the path, he didn’t mind. He was conscious of the sun warming the skin of his hand as he plucked berry after berry and put them into his empty water bottle. ”Even though we didn’t arrange it, that kind of went without saying! But, fine. You’re on for a challenge – I’ll race you to ever bush we come across! Including the ones on your side now.”

He stood up and shook his bottle of berries, which was steadily climbing up to halfway full. He walked ahead, his eyes looking for berries catching off of the sun above. Unfortunately ahead of them, he didn’t see any loitering berry trees. There was only the small bunch in front of them that once again Cleo had gotten to first. ”You’re really making it easy to get angry you know!”

Cliff stuck his tongue out at her.

”There’s nothing fun about this extremely serious race. I’m gonna beat you!” He said. Though at this rate, it didn’t look like he was going to. His bottle wasn’t as full as Cleo’s was and that was unacceptable! He straightened out and ran ahead of Cleo, paying little mind to the branches underneath his feet. He had a task to do!

The sun was high in the sky, glittering onto the rocks and cobble lining the beaten path from his prior treks through the woods. He saw another bushel of berries and immediately dove into it. ”HA! I beat you to this bush and I’m going to get all the berries on it!”

His natural competitiveness came out, as he shoved berry after berry off of the branch and put it into his water bottle. He got a few more scratches on his fingers but seemed impervious to them.

Stubbornly, Cliff continued to pull harshly at the berries, winding up destroying more than he got in his water bottle. The bottle was covered in berry blood, dripping bright red as a few berries, slightly smooshed, lied on top of the pile in his bottle. Cleo’s victory stance didn’t help his mood at all and Cliff frowned.

”Hey! You’re a cheater, still,” he insisted, straightening up when their berry bush had been ravished and abandoned. His hands were stained now, with the blood of his berry victims. He frowned at how Cleo’s hand was clean, and so was her face. He pouted and feigned sorrow. ”Not fair, it’s only because you stole my berries earlier that I rushed....”

He kept the (bad) act going for a few seconds, before he lifted his hand up and smeared berry juice all over Cleo’s face. ”In your face, actually!”

Geeeeeeees! Could Cleo not take a joke? Cliff had expected for Cleo to get irritated at him for smearing berry junk all over her face, but why was she getting that mad? Wasn’t she used to being outdoors and dirty? It wasn’t his fault she was apparently prissier than he thought she was and, stubbornly, he rolled his eyes at her anger and fished a water bottle out of his backpack. He should probably apologize, the logical part of his brain said, but he didn’t mean to be a sore loser! He was used to roughhousing with his dad all the time. His father always did things like that – rubbing dirt and grass and sometimes even mud on his face when Cliff beat him at something. He tossed the water bottle towards Cleo, gently, but hard enough so that he wouldn’t have to go closer to her. What if she started clawing at his face in revenge or something?

He guessed girls were probably different than guys. Or, at least, Cleo was different from his dad! This kind of playing was fine with Noah too. The fresh air that was, only a few minutes ago, one of the most pleasant things he could breathe in suddenly felt suffocating. And even though his mind was telling him he had to apologize, all he could think in his head was ‘blah blah blah’ with everything she said. He didn’t sign up for this!

”if you can’t handle dirt and nature juices why are you out here on a trail? If you kicked dust in my face I would have just laughed.” He said, sticking his tongue out at her, very childishly. The berries he’d collected in his water bottle were suddenly pointless to him now. The prospect of losing one of the only friends he’d found easy to make (except for Noah, years ago) wasn’t one Cliff really liked. He looked at the ground and stubbornly folded his arms across his chest. ”I’m not cruel! You’re just being a girl about a little berry juice! You could smear it all over my face and I wouldn’t even care you know!”

Cliff was now expecting Cleo to snap back at him, again. He was expecting for this exposition to be ruined all because of what he’d done. Cleo was probably going to go back down the trail and he’d be alone, without a companion. While Cliff liked to hike alone he didn’t want to be ditched. He kicked the ground up underneath his feet slightly, watching as a rock tumbled into the bush to the side of them.

When she did speak up, Cliff looked at her, wondering why she hadn’t slapped him yet and started leaving. Ironically... she was the one who was more apologetic now. He felt... bad being so angry when she wasn’t anymore, and so his anger dissipated. He could understand her having a thing about her face being touched... there were certain parts of people that you just didn't touch. He just didn't think about it, he guessed, and took a deep breath.

”Uh... I’m just used to roughhouse like that. I used to do it with my dad all the time. You know, stuff like that. Just smear it all over my face,” As demonstration Cliff brought his face up and smeared his own face. It was stupid, sure, and probably would make her roll her eyes or think he was dumb for doing it to himself, but even if she was laughing at him he’d rather see her laughing than apologetic and weird like this. When she flicked water at him he smiled slightly, the water didn’t do much to make his face look better. ”I’m not a bad sport! I just like to play dirty! Which apparently you don’t agree with!”

Good, she was smiling again. Cliff felt a smile of his own beginning to stretch across his lips. He didn’t like it when people were mad at him. It was fine for him to be mad at people, but he just didn’t like it when people were mad at him. She was laughing now and he just knew he had to avoid her face. If he avoided her face, she wouldn’t get angry again.

When she flicked more water at him he winced playfully, as though he was trying to bat it away and failed.

”Hey! I’ll bet I look amazing, even with this berry gunk smeared all over my face! If I look like a terrible hooker you can be my first customer,” He grinned and jogged ahead of her, not even bothering to wipe off his face. The cool breeze on the berry juices felt nice. ”But I’m not a normal hooker. I only accept berries as payment.”

”But you should be jealous! This is awesome. I’m awesome.” Cliff emphasized, giving his goofiest grin to Cleo. Wow, it was so weird to him that he could mess things up with just one action, one phrase. Cleo must have pretty high patience to have forgiven him so easy. Patience he definitely didn’t have and that he admired. ”Classy? You’re the one associating with a hooker right now. That’s not very classy to me!”

Cliff felt like his cheeks hurt, he was smiling so much. He could get used to this feeling, he thought, as he continued to walk ahead and took in a breath of fresh air. Her question made him stop and turn around, the grin still on his face, his teeth stained with some of the juice still dripping down from his face. He quickly raised a sleeve and wiped his face off as best he could.

”Okay, I forgot I was walking with a newbie today.” He said, ”And that’s Mr. Thing to you, actually.”

"There’s nothing wrong with being a hooker! I’m a hooker. My name can be... boysenberry or something.” That wasn’t a very sexy berry. ”Never mind. I’ll think of a better name pretty soon.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and continued to walk, slowly, until she pulled out her camera. Instantly Cliff’s face lit up and he told her one second, as he ran to the big rock off to the side. It was hard to climb up, it had to be at least five and a half feet tall, but he managed to jump up and stand there, proudly, at the top of the rock. He posed, like the thinker, as the wind rustled by and made his shadow on the ground dance. The post would have be nice... if, you know, he wasn’t smothered in berry juice. ”C’mon! Like this! This is a quality shot.”

”Berry Mandaho?! Is that like, a berry from Idaho? I may be a hooker, but I’m-not-da-ho!” He said, continuing to grin from his perch atop the rock. It was so nice to be up here. He could see Cleo, her face hidden by the camera of her phone, and smiled down at her. The sun struck that stupidly bright sweater, and it stood out like a sore thumb among the darkness of the bath below her feet and the trees behind her. The sight only made him grin wider.

When she demanded he make more poses, well, Cliff obliged. He struck a pose like he was a conqueror, one foot lifted up on a higher bit of rock. When he did that his foot wobbled slightly, he almost lost balance, but didn’t. He regained it and felt even more confident, which struck in his pose! He was sure that with the sun hitting his back like this he was looking great in the photos! Even though she didn’t have a fancy camera like those guys at the photography department. ”You should submit these to the photo department for display. I bet they’re gonna be awesome!”

”Nope! Whoever it is sounds old and I don’t like old people,” Cliff informed Cleo. Now that was obviously a huge over exaggeration. ”If I’m ever on a road trip with your mom, I’ll have to let her know that I’ve never heard of him. Is he a singer or something? The only old singer I know is Elvis.”

He brushed off her word of warning and nickname, though when she mentioned a modeling portfolio Cliff snorted. ”I don’t think I’d make a good model. I’m not pretty enough for it. Plus shaving my legs? That’s gross. I like letting them be hairy.”

Perhaps that wasn’t something Cleo wanted to know about him, but whatever. ”Even if it’s not for portfolio, how about this one?”

Cliff hopped down onto the base of the rock, sitting with his legs dangling over it. He then reached behind him and grabbed his bow and arrow, slipping one arrow into it, as he pointed up towards the sky. If this one came out good, he thought, he would definitely make it his cover photo on facebook. Or something. At the moment it was just a stock photo of some mountains. He could tag Cleo in it, too, which reminded him – he didn’t have her added or even know if she had one. ”This makes me feel kinda like robin hood!”

The names sounded familiar to Cliff, but he didn’t really care about them. His mom liked Frank Sinatra, he thought, but everyone else... he didn’t know! ”I guess I’ve heard of some of them, and I never liked the Beatles,” Cliff said though he didn’t sound very convinced. Instead he continued to pose on the rock, the sun hitting the back of his neck, feeling confident.

Her comment about lumberjack models made him snort. His dad could have been a lumberjack model! Sort of. Though he kept shaved for work, his father always grew facial hair really thick. Cliff was waiting for his to come in, checking vigorously every day in the mirror. He was already getting taller, but the facial hair had yet to come up yet. He was waiting on it! It had to be thick, just like his father’s!

”I’ll be the next lumberjack model – just wait!” Cliff said, ”Next Halloween, I’ll be the best lumberjack ever! Lumberjack Robin Hood. Oh! I wanna see!”

Cliff positioned himself on the rock, and then slid himself down it. He flinched as his palms grazed the rock roughly, but he got down safely. He repositioned his backpack and secured his arrowed behind him as he went to Cleo’s side, looking at the pictures. He grinned at all of them. ”Now those are some good pictures! You should model, too! You can be the lady robin hood!”