Ethan Martin and his mother live a simple life in a small Southern town... with a twist: She makes dresses to pay the bills and he helps out as best he can.
 

Ethan learns some things about his friends—and has a revelation about himself.
 

Ethan, dressed as Emily, was with Ricky standing outside the local ice cream shop; the cross-dressed boy wore a blonde wig with a gold satin hairbow, a gold floral print cotton sundress with spaghetti shoulder straps and white kitten heels. Ricky’s mom, Marianne, and Colleen were seated nearby, chatting away like old friends. Marianne had on a soft pastel yellow print sundress similar to Ethan’s, a gift from the Martin family. The colors made her skin and hair glow; she looked healthier and happier since meeting Ethan and his mother a few months earlier.

All four had an ice cream cone and everyone, with the exception of Ricky, took their time nibbling and licking their treats. Ricky, on the other hand, was devouring his cone as fast as he could, prompting laughter from Ethan and his mom, and causing a bit of embarrassment for Marianne.

“Ricky, son, you don’t have to eat it all at once,” she pleaded, her voice torn between annoyance and merriment. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Ricky’s face was smeared with chocolate and caramel, his droopy eyes locked on his task. “I got to, Mom. It’s hot outside and it’s gonna melt if I don’t eat it all up now! Ice cream is important and I’m not lettin’ it get away!”

A giggling Ethan did his best to help, dabbing at his friend’s mouth with a handful of napkins from the shop and offering encouragement for the eager boy to slow down. To passersby it might have looked like a teenaged girl struggling to manage her immature but older brother.

“Good grief, Ricky, you’re such a mess as I’ve never seen….”

“Hello, Emily.”

A familiar voice interrupted the scene. Ethan blushed before he even saw who it was. Samuel Torres. He looked up; the fourteen year old was tall and dark and had a broad, handsome smile on his rugged face. He wore his trademark black denim jacket and jeans, despite the late autumn heat, and he looked, as always, cool, confident and fit.

“So this is Ricky, huh?” Samuel grinned as the red-headed teen finished off his ice cream, cramming the last of the cone in his mouth and practically swallowing it whole. ”I like a man who knows what he wants,” he said, laughing.

Ethan giggled, his cheeks flushed and his heart racing. Still holding his cone, he used his free hand to brush back the blonde hair of his wig over his ear, showing off a small rhinestone cherry earring, and he gave Samuel a sidelong glance.

Just a few feet away Colleen licked her cone, watching her son with intense curiosity—never had his appearance as Emily looked more realistic. She gave her cone another lick and settled in to enjoy the show.

Samuel grinned at the cross-dressed boy, one eyebrow raised as if to say “Your move.” Ethan felt his nerves kick into gear. He was treading dangerous, but thrilling waters.

“Ricky, this is my, um.. friend… Samuel. Samuel, Ricky.”

Samuel reached out his hand to the freckle-faced youth, but instead of taking it, Ricky looked up … and froze. For a moment he didn’t move. He appeared to be thinking about something, as if he was trying to remember… a thing… or a person.

Samuel looked from Ricky to Ethan. Ethan shrugged, worried that maybe Ricky was about to offend Samuel.

Suddenly Ricky smiled, his eyes alight with a… revelation? But then they went back to their droopy state and the smile faded. ”Hello sir. I’m sorry sir…. You look like… someone… someone… I know….”

Ethan stood up on his tiptoes and whispered to Samuel. ”Remember I told you… the car accident. He remembers things from before... just not always after.”

The older boy nodded. ”I get it.” He reached over and took Ricky’s hand, put it in his own and shook it. ”Nice to meet you, Red. You say I remind you of somebody, huh? Anybody I might know?”

Ricky was silent for a moment. “Red …?” He suddenly looked up again, his once droopy eyes wide open, bright and clear. “You called me ‘Red’, sir. Are… are you… the general?”

Samuel laughed. ”What makes you think I’m a general?”

Ricky’s voice was strong and clear. “Sir, you look just like him, sir! You even called me ‘Red.’ That’s what they called my dad when he flew jets for the Air Force. Before he flew off to heaven. We went to the big base after Dad flew away and the general, he called me ‘Red,’ too. Just like my dad!” Ricky’s face suddenly turned serious—his body went to full military attention and he did a brisk, practiced salute, holding it precisely, proudly.

“Sir! Red Johannson, General! Reporting for duty, sir!”

Samuel looked surprised. He stared hard at Ricky, then returned the salute. ”At ease, Red.” His then surprise turned to… curiosity. ”You know a general… a black guy… like me … in a general’s uniform?”

“Sir, yes sir, General sir! Just so you know, sir, I’ve been takin’ real good care of the jet you gave me. Real good care, I promise, just like you ordered me to do, sir. You can ask my mom!”

Samuel looked at Ethan. ”What jet …?”

“I’ll explain later.” Ethan put his hand on Ricky’s shoulder. ”Ricky, this is my friend Samuel. He goes to school with me. He’s not a general. Not yet, at least. He’s going to join the Marine Corps when he graduates. He goes to school now, but wants to be a...”

“The Marine Corps…” Ricky repeated. His head dropped down, his eyes droopy again. He thought and he thought… and he thought… until:

“Jarhead!”

The excited boy looked up right at Samuel, eyes wide open, wide and bright and full of the light of life. He shouted, “United States Marine Corps! Oo-rah! Jarheads! Oo-rah! Devil dogs!” The freckle-faced boy looked so happy, so excited as he jumped up and down, wide eyes sparkling fiercely. “You’re gonna be a jarhead, sir? You must be tough! My dad always said ‘Those jarheads are tough! Tougher than the toughest!’ You must be really tough if you’re gonna be a jarhead, sir!”

“Ricky, don’t be rude!” Ethan scolded. He looked over at Marianne, who appeared as stunned as he was, then back at Samuel. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into him. Ricky, please—don’t be calling people names! That’s not nice!”

Once again Samuel laughed. He put his hand on Ethan’s bare shoulder. ”It’s all right, Emily. Everything’s cool. That’s what they call Marines. Jarheads. It’s a nickname. Little man here just gave me a compliment.”

He turned to Ricky and laughed again. ”Thanks, Red. I’m not a jarhead yet, but I hope to be.” He gave the happy boy a hard salute. ”You just made my day, little brother!”

“You’re welcome, General!” Ricky returned the salute. “Mission accomplished, sir!”

Samuel smiled. “Mission accomplished, Red Johannson.”

Ricky suddenly took off toward his mother. “Mom! Mom! Mom! Did you see that? I just saw the general who knows Dad! Remember him? I gave him a report on Dad’s jet and he gave me a salute and everything!”

Samuel was quiet. Ethan held tight to the older boy’s hand, gripping it for all he was worth; his pink-tipped fingers looked small and delicate in contrast to the huge coal-black hand he clasped. Samuel nodded. His strong fingers returned the squeeze, not with force, but with a great and gentle affection.

“Jarheads?” Ethan made a face. “Really?”

“That’s what they call them.” Samuel shrugged, then winked. “Guy stuff. You wouldn’t know much about that, would you… Emily?”

Ethan huffed. “I guess not.”

Over at the seating area Marianne listened patiently as Ricky recited in detail his meeting with “The General.” Colleen pretended to pay attention, but her focus was elsewhere.

“Little guy almost got me.” Samuel’s voice suddenly got hoarse. “He’s weird, but in a good way. At first you think he’s just some dumb kid, smacked too hard in the head for his own good. But then… he’s sharp as a tack… focused… and commands respect. A weird little kid… but like I said, in a good way.”

Ethan wiped his eyes with a napkin. ”Weird, huh? As weird as me?”

Samuel looked down at the cross-dressed boy, his bright white teeth in a fierce smile. “Nobody weirder than you, baby girl. You the weirdest thing I know.”

“And you’re the toughest guy I know.” Ethan blushed. He wondered for a moment what would have happened if his mother wasn’t there, watching with undisguised interest only a dozen or so feet away.

Maybe I should find out, he thought to himself. He closed in on Samuel, coyly, but with unmistakable intention—his head tilted back just enough, his eyes partially closed, his pink painted lips open ever so slightly as he offered himself up…

From her perch nearby, Colleen held her breath… and tried to remember when she was so young…

Next up: The Angel’s Pendant