The Mailboy

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For a lot of my classmates spring break brings promises of suntans, the beach, and showing off way too much skin in booty shorts or bikinis even though a cold front just blew through and it's fifty degrees in the shade.

My mom always said the three things that don't ever get cold are penguins, polar bears, and whores.

For me, though, spring break means relaxing on the couch with a good book, iced tea in hand, trying to tune out the sound of my little brother Alex watching Pokèmon, and today is no exception.

"Hey, Harper, what's your favorite Pokèmon?" Alex asks over the sound of an intense cartoonish battle. Lazily turning the page of A Tale of Two Cities, I glance up before returning to my book.

"Oh, I dunno... Salamence is pretty cool, I guess."

"I like Bulbasaur!" Alex grins, revealing two missing teeth from his gaping smile. His eyes fall on the book in my hands. "Whatcha reading?"

"Charles Dickens." I reply slowly, turning another page.

"Sounds gross."

"Bulbasaur sounds gross too, if you think about it." I argue. Alex seems like he's about to retaliate when another voice beats him to it, echoing from the window.

"Magneton is the best Pokèmon, no contest."

A Tale of Two Cities goes flying as I jump upright and dart to the window, where a guy stands there with a bundle of letters in his hand. The first thing about him I notice is his postal uniform, a blue shirt and shorts topped off with a USPS hat that doesn't quite cover his wavy brown hair. Alex runs to my side and waves when he sees the post office guy, who waves back with a genuine smile.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" I demand, then realize how harsh I sound and try again. "I mean, how can I help you?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm the new mailman, and I was looking for your mailbox." The guy responds, smiling apologetically.

"Mailman? More like mailboy." Alex squints down at the mailboy-not-mailman, who shrugs and rearranges the letters under his arm.

"Mailboy. I like the sound of that. Anyways, as a member of the USPS it would be wrong of me to not ask why you don't have a mailbox." He puffs out his chest in a faux-official manner and I can't help but laugh.

"Since you asked, mailboy, it got run over by a golf cart." I lean forward on the windowsill with a knowing smirk and watch as his expression turns from cheerful to confused.

"Wait one second..." He holds up a hand. "A golf cart?"

"Yeah!" Alex bounces up and down at my side, unable to contain his excitement. "It knocked down the mailbox when it crashed into our lawn. Cool, right?"

The mailboy looks up at us with a determined expression. "Well, as a dutiful mailboy, it would be un-befitting of me to not deliver your mail. For you, miss..." He peeks at the letters, "Miss Collins."

"Thank you, mister..." I parrot, and his lips twitch up into a smile. Sweeping the hat off of his head with a flourish, he performs an overly-dramatic bow that makes both Alex and I giggle.

"Mister Chase Park, your majesty." He winks and holds out the letters, which Alex snatches out of his hand eagerly. "Your local mailboy and Magneton-lover, at your service."

"Why thank you, mailboy." I tease, and he smiles again, then sweeps a hand through his caramel hair before fitting the USPS cap back onto it.

"I should probably go finish my rounds. See you tomorrow?" He asks, and I feel myself blush. What's the deal, Harper? It's just the mailman.

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