You have Madelyn Grey and Erika Okaami to thank for this one, because:

Erika Okaami said, "OMG! There was an ADORABLE little boy in the 18 month old today and his name was Samuel O_O"

And then Madelyn Grey was all, "WRITE ABOUT AMELIE AND MYRNIN BEING LITTLE, LITTLE KIDS, AND OLIVER BEING THAT CREEPY TEN YEAR OLD THAT LIKES TO HANG WITH LIIIIITTLE KIDS."

And a whole bunch of other stuff.

Mondays were no one's favorite day.

Not even Myrnin's.

Even though he'd eaten a whole seven packs of crayons—one more than he usually ate in an entire day—, he couldn't satisfy that craving that told him, Eat the crayons… do it, Myrnin. They won't hurt you…

Mondays were hard on him.

= /

This Monday must have especially disliked him, for it introduced Oliver and Morley to Myrnin. Mondays were cruel.

.

It was ten-thirty. Or something like that. Myrnin had no idea because the teacher lady hadn't teached them time and clocks and stuffs. But what did he know? He couldn't even see the clock because his giant, neon-green sunglasses had turned off the light in the third grade classroom.

But ten-thirty—or whenever the hell it was—was when playground time started.

As soon as he got outside, he saw Amelie was sitting on the swings with Claire, the girl who was already in first grade, even though she was supposed to be in kindergarten. Myrnin adjusted his purple, polka-dotted bowtie and went over to sit in the sand below Amelie and Claire—not on the swings. Myrnin hated the swings. Once, they had threw him off, so he was never, ever going to play with them again.

"Hey, Cwair," Shane said, running up to the swings. "I bwought yew a sumfing." He pulled out a necklace with three shiny green beads on the string. "It's a neckwuss."

Claire blushed and looked down. "Thanks, Shane," she said, kicking her feet idly.

Amelie hopped off the swing and nearly fell because of the huge pumps she was wearing—probably stolen from her mother's closet—and cleared her throat, adjusting the plastic pearls around her neck. "Excuse me," she said. "You can't talk to Claire." She held her small hand out for the necklace. "I'll hand these to her."

Shane looked at Amelie like: =/

But he handed over the necklace anyway. "Fanks," he said. "Tell her I says hi." And then he ran away to play 'Lemme Beat Chu Up' with the other preschool boys.

And then Myrnin distinctly heard a voice say, "Nice, maaaan. You just gave a neckwuss to a older girl!"

(And this is when Oliver came over.)

Then, Oliver came over. He sat on the swing that Amelie had just recently left.

"Hello," he said, his voice was deep and old-like with a stupid-sounding accent Myrnin couldn't place. He smelled odd. Like… skunk. "I'm Oliver. I'm ten. And I can read." He sipped from a mug of hot chocolate—or something that looked like hot chocolate, because it sure as hell didn't smell like hot chocolate.

Amelie's face looked smug. "Well so can I, and I'm in the third grade." She dug around in a pink purse with pink down feathers sticking up around the opening. Amelie pulled out a tube of lipstick with a redheaded mermaid princess on it and attempted to put on the makeup. But she pretty much failed and got it all over her lips, her teeth, and a bit of her left cheek. She smacked her lips together and smiled. "Perfect."

"Thank you," Oliver said. But Amelie gave him a look.

"I wasn't talking to you," she said.

"Oh."

(And this is when Morley was introduced to them.)

Then Morley was introduced to them. By Oliver.

When he came within ten feet of Myrnin and the others, they knew it. They smelled it. Myrnin thought Oliver smelled bad, but it was absolutely nothing compared to this. He thought he was going to die. Did this child not bathe!

By the time the new kid crossed the line to the swing set area, as if in cue, Amelie, Claire, and Myrnin all scrambled up and stepped back from him.

"Everybodies, this is Morley," Oliver said, pointing to the child that everyone averted their eyes from. "He's my only friend. But I hope I'll be making friends with you guys soon!"

Everyone was like: O_O No…

This became just too much for Myrnin to handle, so he pulled a box of crayons out of his back pocket and began to chew on the red one—his favorite, because it tasted like strawberries. He hated the black ones, which he always just chewed on and spit out to look cool. It tasted like death. But the green ones were nice. They tasted like cinnamon. Oh, and the pink ones. He almost loved the pink ones as much as he loved the red ones—but not quite. The pink ones tasted like roses. And, boy, did Myrnin love eating roses.

But then, Myrnin saw a frog and got distracted. He thought, Perhaps this lovely little froggie has hopped all the way from Canada. Or Mexico. And maybe I should dissect it to see what it has in its belly because he must have had to eat on its way down—or up—to Texas. And then he ran after it.

Amelie and Claire watched Myrnin shoot off, stabbing at the green frog with a scalpel he'd just pulled out of his lab coat he always wore. He actually wore it so much, the white was completely gone and covered in brown from the dirt and mud he enjoyed rolling in after school on the way home.

"Do you think he should be doing that?" Claire asked Amelie, because Amelie was the head honcho in the group and that was how Amelie intended it to be.

Amelie's makeup-disastered head shook from side to side. "No, but he'll be fine. I remember when he tied a cape to hisself and tried to flies off the roof of mah house. He's fine now, isn't he?"

They watched Myrnin run into a fence and they both winced.

"Eve!" Claire called, waving her arm wildly in a childish beckon. "C'mere!"

A girl dressed in all black walked over to them. As she reached the danger zone—a circle of about twenty feet around Morley—she slammed a hand over her nose and stumbled back. "Oh, what the heck is that smell?"

Claire's face was like: D':

"Don't say bad words, Eve," she said.

"What bad word?"

"Claire means the 'H' word you just said," Amelie spoke for Claire.

"Oh. Oops." Eve flashed a guilty smile, but instantly closed her mouth again because it felt like someone had just ripped ass in front of her face. "Seriously, y'all. What's that smell?" Amelie and Claire looked simultaneously at Morley, who had flies circling above his head in the most awkward halo EVAR.

Eve was all: O_O

Amelie and Claire nodded together, confirming the smell came from Morley in a 'Told ya so' kind of way.

And then Myrnin came back, panting and carrying a decapitated frog. "GOT IT!"

The girls looked disgusted, but Oliver just slapped the thing out of Myrnin's hands and Myrnin watched pathetically as it rolled down a sand pile.

"Get the hideous thing away from us," Oliver snarled. Myrnin glared up at the taller ten-year-old.

"Fine. I will." And Myrnin flew at Oliver, pushed him out of the swing set area, and slammed a giant rock into Oliver's head, knocking him out. He got up to clearly mark his territory by peeing at the base of one of the poles that held up the swings.

He came back with a victorious look on his face, zipped up his fly, and brushed off his hands. "All better."

A shy little ginger walked up slowly to Amelie. He tapped her on the shoulder and looked up at her. "Amaywie?" he asked in the high voice of an innocent child. He was in preschool.

"Yeah, Sam?" she asked, looking down at the redhead.

"I wike yew. I wike yew awot. Pwease marry me?" And he got down on one knee and held up a dandelion to Amelie.

She blushed and took the flower. "Okay, Sam." As soon as Samuel got up, Amelie's voice changed from sweet to demanding. "Now make me a sandwich."

"You're in for it now," Myrnin whispered to Sam and rolled his eyes. Couples.