“Do you dream in color? Or black and white?” Kenny asked Steve, looking from the edge of the Breckenmeyer Bridge. Both boys threw rocks and anything else they could find into the river below. The bridge spanned roughly a quarter mile and allowed one car at a time. But that was long before either boy learned how to ride a bike.  

Steve, lost in his thoughts, wasn’t paying attention to his best friend in the world, Kenny. The two boys were friends from 2^nd grade on, and now girls and sports started colliding. Which was more important? If you asked Steve, girls. If you asked Kenny on the right day, he’d agree. But the Chicago Bulls had Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, and John Paxson. Years later, Kenny reminded Steve that he said Jordan was the best basketball player ever. Steve, conceding defeat, would buy Kenny a beer. But that beer would wait twenty years. Right now, they were talking about dreams. And Steve wasn’t listening. “What?”

“Dreams.” Kenny punched Steve in the arm. “Dude. What the hell. Where is your brain today?”

Steve punched him back harder than Kenny did. “Screw you, bud.”

“You thinkin’ about the blonde in Freaks class?” Mrs. Franklin’s 4^th grade class was anything but average. No one in her class could or would complain about the conditions of her room or about the extra things they got permission to do. She got the nickname Freaks because she didn’t look like your average 4^th-grade teacher. She had two-tone hair. No other teacher dared do that. Especially not in the early 90s. She also had two visible tattoos, something the principal, Mr. Rick, objected to vehemently. His attitude was only those in a biker gang had tattoos, his experience being his brother, who was now in prison for dealing drugs through a California chapter of the Band of Brothers, a rival of the Hell’s Angels. Mr. Rick believed anyone who got a tattoo didn’t know right from wrong. But his vote on the hiring committee was overridden, two no’s and six yes’s. Denise got through to her kids because she believed every small person needed encouragement and support, two things she gave every student, even Steve’s enemy, Marcus.

Steve scrunched his face and stuck out his tongue. “No. I was thinkin’ ‘bout the finals. Jordan’s gonna cream the Blazers tonight. And I can’t wait!” Turning his back to Kenny, Steve sighed. The new girl with blonde hair, Mykalia, had his attention. But he wasn’t about to admit that to his best friend. He tried to get her attention without getting her attention. He thought it worked, but Marcus got in the way.

Kenny was thinking about his teacher. Like most other guys, he had a hardcore crush on her. The girls knew, but what could they do? They were jealous because all the boys’ affections were directed toward her, not them. Pretending it wasn’t a big deal, the boys were clueless that the girls were jealous. Even though they tried to act like it was no big deal. But Mrs. Franklin knew it and did her best to redirect the boys and give grace to the girls. She was once one like them. Only Mykalia had a big crush on her 4^th-grade teacher, Mr. Harrison. In a few months from now, she would connect with the girls, telling them all about Mr. Harrison and her crush.

“Let’s get outta here. I’m bored,” Steve said, picking up his Diamondback bike. Scratches covered the chrome-plated forks and gravel embedded in the front and back tires.  

“What are you thinking?” Kenny asked. His Schwinn ten-speed was in better shape than Steve’s. “Mountain Mike’s Pizza? Video games?”

Steve nodded, pushing down hard on the pedals, throwing dust back at his friend. “Last one there buys!”