"I bet you can't!"
"I bet I can!"
"Cannot!"
"Can too!"
It was a common sight in the eyes of those who knew them well: Fourteen year old Finchley, running full speed ahead, laughing and hollering back at Caldwell, a lad of the same age with curling, dirt-colored hair, who was running right after her, looking mischievous as ever. And, as everyone knows, fourteen is an extremely foolish age.
"Give it up, Finch! You definitely can't."
"I'll prove it!"
The two came to a stop near a large grain barn to catch their breath and Finchley pointed up to the roof of it as if to make her point. Caldwell stood there, breathing hard and looking at her in completely bemusement.
"How? You can't even get up there."
"Then why did you even dare me to walk the ridgepole in the first place, Caldwell?"
"... Ummmm--"
"Ha! I got you there! And I'll still prove it under one condition."
Not one to back away from a wager that he was certain would definitely turn in his favor, Caldwell grinned and crossed his arms before replying with a sly, "Oh? And what's that?"
But clever Finchley was not one to back down from a challenge or an opportunity to show Caldwell up and get something out of it from him. "If I walk the whole pole then you have to swear on your honor -- and on your mum, since I don't trust your honor one bit -- to stop pullin' fast ones on me for a whole year."
"Done. But how are you gonna prove anything when the ridgepole is all the way up there--" This time it was he who made a exaggerated gesture to the roof the barn. "-- while you're all the way down here?"
"Well, if you help me get up on the roof then I can have a proper go at it."
"... Fine. But only because I know you can't do it."
"Can too!"
"Cannot!"
"Caldwell! We are not startin' that again. Just help me up, will ya?"
After a few minutes of huffing and puffing and many complaints made by Caldwell, Finchley ended up standing atop his shoulders, supported by his hands in her calves and balanced by holding her hands against the outer wall of the barn. However, though Caldwell was a tall lad for his age, his height was not enough to help Finchley grasp the edge of the roof to pull herself onto it.
Caldwell continued to make his many complaints until he heard her say something up above him. He turned his eyes upwards, careful to not move too much lest she fall. "What?"
"I said, I can't reach that far. You'll have to toss me."
"Toss you?"
"Aye! Jump a little and then use those big strong arms you like to brag about to Miss Neda all the time and toss me up so I can grab the ledge."
"Alright alright--"
"Remind me who it was that came up with this dare in the first place..."
"Shut it, Finch. One toss comin' up!"
But, as unlucky fate would have it, while Caldwell was a big and strong lad for his age, he was completely terrible at aiming. With a leap, he tossed Finchley straight up with great force. He then and heard a thud, a cry of pain and the sound of a body hitting the ground next to him. Finchley had hit her face -- and more specifically -- her nose into the underside of the ledge. Hard.
And, of course, being the type to have slightly inappropriate responses to situations such as this, Caldwell slapped one hand over his mouth and the other over his stomach as he doubled over laughing.
"Ah--! Stop laffin', Caldwell... Help me up! I think I broke something!" cried Finchley, holding a hand to her bloodied nose. To his credit, he did help her up, though his laughter remained.
"Oh, wait till Fletcher and the lads see that!"
"Ugh! Ow! Stop it-- I'm goin' home."
With a last disappointed glare at the lad, Finchley, holding the edge of her sleeve to her bleeding nose, trudged away, leaving Caldwell to get out the rest of his laughter alone, only for him to feel a little badly for it later on.
