Sam picks up another handful of cookie crumbs and sprinkles it on top of the cake, letting them fall in a little anthill-shaped pile in the center. He pats it down a bit, tipping his head to the side as he nudges some of the crumbs off of the edge to scatter artistically across the foil-lined cookie sheet. He’s humming to himself—some song that he actually doesn’t know the words to. It’s in French, he’s pretty sure. Funny how you can get a song you don’t know the words to stuck in your head.

“It’s wonderful, it’s wonderful, it’s wonderful… something something my baby…” That part, he sort of knows. He sings it in that way he has, where he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s singing out loud. The words are a bit muffled by the sour gummy worm half-hanging out of his mouth. There are more gummy worms peeking out from under the chocolate cookie crumbs, crawling up (or down, since he can’t figure out which end is the head) the side of the cake and across the top of it. There’s one coming out from between the two layers of the cake as well. He thought that one was particularly clever.

He plucks the gummy worm from between his lips and chews on the bitten-off part as he ambles over to the window to check on the progress outside. The Colridges and the Wordsworths are spending the day together, working outside on their back yard. Their back yard, because really, it’s all shared property. Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Wordsworth are fixing loose boards in the Wordsworth’s deck while Mrs. Coleridge and Mrs. Wordsworth work on weeding the gardens that the families share. Right now they’re both in the pepper patch. Mrs. Wordsworth sits up and takes of her straw hat, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist. She says something that Sam can’t quite hear and they both laugh. Sam smiles.

He pops the rest of the worm in his mouth and chews, glancing at the clock. Will should be getting back soon. He’d sent him to the store to buy some lemons for the lemonade. Sam’s plotted out a veritable feast for them all, celebrating the time that the two families have spent together—lemonade, marinated chicken that’s just waiting to go on the grill, a green salad, potato salad, a big bowl of sweet strawberries, and the dirt cake. “Dirt because of the garden, not because of the way I feel about your family,” Sam had explained to Will earlier.

Sam had done most of the cooking, while Will had done most of the chopping and distracting. Not that it takes much for Will to distract Sam. All he has to do is look at him and Sam will forget whatever he’s doing and not be able to focus again until he’s kissed Will for five minutes.

He glances at the clock again, narrowing his eyes at it. He probably has a few minutes. He looks out the window again and then crosses the kitchen, walking into the entry way and turning to run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He pushes the door to his bedroom open and walks over to his dresser, still humming to himself. He opens the top drawer and fishes under a pile of underwear, drawing out a little green ceramic box. He takes the lid off of it and takes out a little white pill. Not his usual meds. These are the entertaining ones. He considers for a moment, then takes out another one. He slips the box back under his clothes and shuts the drawer before walking to the bathroom. He pops the pills into his mouth and gets a handful of water, swallowing them down. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at himself in the mirror. He smiles and wipes his hands on his jeans.

He takes the stairs two at a time on the way down, too. “Chips chips,” he sings. “Do do do do do…”