A Thousand Boy Kisses

the side of the house, from next door's bedroom window, the one opposite my own. My hand froze on the rail, and I watched as a girl, dressed in a bright blue dress, climbed through the window. She jumped down onto the grass and dusted off her hands on her thighs. I frowned, my eyebrows pulling down as I waited for her to lift her head. She had brown hair, which was piled up on her head like a bird's nest. She wore a big white bow on the side of it. When she looked up, she looked right at me. Then she smiled. She smiled at me so big. She waved, fast, then ran forward and stopped in front of me. She pushed out her hand. Hi, my name is Poppy Litchfield. I'm five years old, and I live right next door. I stared at the girl. She had a funny accent. It made the English words sound different to the way I had learned them back in Norway. The girl, Poppy, had a smudge of mud on her face and bright yellow rain boots on her feet. They had a big red balloon on the side. She looked weird. I looked up from her feet and fixed my eyes on her hand. She was still holding it out. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what she wanted. Poppy sighed. Shaking her head, she reached for my hand and forced it into hers. She shook them up and down twice and said, A handshake. My mamaw says it's only right to shake the hand of new people that you meet. She pointed at our hands. That was a handshake. And that was polite, because I don't know you. I didn't say anything. For some reason, my voice wouldn't work. When I looked down, I realized it was because our hands were still joined. She had mud on her hands, too. In fact, she had mud everywhere. What's your name? Poppy asked. Her head was tipped to the side. A small twig was stuck in her hair. Hi, she said, tugging on our hands. I asked for your name. I cleared my throat. My name is Rune. Rune Eric Christensen. Poppy scrunched her face up, her big pink lips sticking out all funny. You sound weird. She blurted. I snatched my hand away. No, I don't do that. I snapped. Her face screwed up even more. What did you just say? Poppy asked as I turned to walk into my house. I didn't want to speak to her anymore. Feeling angry, I spun back around. I said, no, I don't. I was speaking Norwegian, I said, in English this time. Poppy's green eyes grew huge. She stepped closer and closer again and asked, Norwegian? Like the Vikings? My mamaw read me a book about the Vikings. It said they were from Norway. Her eyes got even bigger. Rune? Are you a Viking? Her voice had gone all squeaky. It made me feel good. It made me feel good. I stuck out my chest. My papa always said I was a Viking, like all the men in my family. We were big, strong Vikings. Ja, I said. We are real Vikings from Norway. A big smile spread across Poppy's face and a loud girly giggle burst from her mouth. She lifted her hand and pulled on my hair. That's why you have long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Because you're a Viking. At first I thought you looked like a girl. I'm not a girl, I butted in. But Poppy didn't seem to care. I ran my hand through my long hair. It came down to my shoulders. All the boys in Oslo had their hair like this. But now I see it's because you're a real life Viking. Like Thor. He had long blonde hair.