The Misadventures of the Family Fletcher

The line of four boys separated with the force of bowling pins being knocked every which way. The first day of school meant something different to each of them, but whether they were dreading it or dying to get back, no one wanted to stay on the splintery steps any longer than necessary. This was the first year that all four boys were heading off to real school, if kindergarten counted as real. Eli wasn’t sure any place where you glued cotton balls on construction paper was real school, but Frog thought it was, and was excited to finally be in the photo. And according to Fletcher Family Rules, the photo had to be taken. So it was.

Certainly the boys didn’t look like brothers, apart from the matching grass-stained knees and monogrammed backpacks Sam with his tan and his surfer shorts; Jax all elbows and knees and ever-expanding Afro that he refused to cut; Eli slight and freckly-pale with glasses; and Frog, the size of an average four-year-old, despite being six. Frog seemed to have the energy of at least three six year-olds, but in a very concentrated size.

Eli fidgeted with his backpack and watched as Jax ran into the yard and punted the bright orange soccer ball that had been sitting in the middle of the lawn. It sailed neatly over the low shrub and into the new neighbor’s yard, where it stuck deep in a prickly-looking bush.