Pair

We rest in the cafeteria. There were double rations of food, and everyone had another plate for energy; and, not only that, we were having pizza—a proper meal for hardworking students. The lunch ladies are encouraging us to do as usual; they scoop a gelatin of what appears to be puke and one slice of cheese pizza.

A din of chatter followed afterward. However, we were unsure if the teacher would let us have more of the flatbread. After all, it was junk food, and the teachers were focused on giving us vegetables. I shot a glance at one of the lunch ladies. Then, at the other children. Although they didn’t say anything, I knew what they were thinking.

For us children, this meant up; from eating salads, degraded versions of mashed potatoes, and haricot beans to decent quality pizzas was like a dream come true. For the teachers, this meant not up or down—but a waste of their time. You see, schools in America had a tight budget; most of which went into education.

So, when the school focuses on lunch, you know that the teachers aren’t going to have a good day. I remember the cook being disconcerted as the facts dawned on them. They were staggered when they had to cook actual food.

Last night was a nightmare for me: my brain was right to fear school since I’d gotten in trouble. No matter. I continued eating my pizza. Now, I can’t remember all of my classmates (nor do I plan on stating their names) but I remember their personalities.

Close behind me were my friends: Peter, a student with average grades, a local teacher’s pet. He sits a table away from me and starts wolfing down his food; Kevin Wettsworth, a close friend of his, an enjoyer of all kinds of treats; then Matthew Thorsen, the leader of the class, cunning, somewhat rude, and possessive of his supplies.

Finally, Matthew looks up and asks me, “What  games do you wanna play at recess?” With a mouth full of haricot beans, I reply, “I won’t play with anyone today. I plan on sitting alone.” Kevin grinned. “Why? You should come and play with the rest of the class.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s alright.” I finish gobbling down my food. “I’ll play tomorrow. Not really in the mood,” I smiled. “You sure?” Peter asked. “It’s Zombie Tag today. Vincent’s playing.” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” I get up from my seat. “I’ll see you guys around.”

\*\*\*
“Alright, settle down!” Ms. Templeton ordered. I hated her. Everyone did. “As you all know, it’s raining today, and—you can see for yourself if you like—the playground is off-limits.” We tried our best not to groan. “So, we’ll be using the indoor playground.” Alright, that wasn’t so bad. We all got in line and followed her.

Once we entered the playground, everyone went wild. Even Peter did! Sure, playing indoors was boring, but it was better than studying the equation √R²−t², where t = time and R = the true radius of a star. I quickly snatched some building blocks to play with and got on top of the slides. Nobody was around. Perfect. I began playing by myself.

*Tik, tik, tik.* Footsteps!

I looked up.

There he was—a boy, no older than me but still taller. I can’t remember his name, so I’ll call him Victor. He was the spoiled brat of the school. Seriously, this kid watches CARTOONS while the entire class does their homework. And when we ask the teachers for screen time, they say, “Absolutely not. It’s is for him.” The audacity! However, he wasn’t doing anything rude, so I decided to stay put.

“Hey there!” I said. “You need something?” No response. Victor walks closer. Now, it’s probably a good time to say that I wasn’t athletic, nor am I now. The best way I got out of fights was by convincing my opponent that this was a waste of time. But I was less experienced back then, so I didn’t know how to convince someone like Victor. “Are you okay?” I ask. Still no response.

Suddenly, Victor grabs two of my building blocks and starts running off. “Hey!” I yell. “Give that back!” But he doesn’t stop. He goes down the stairs of the slide and cuts a corner. But here’s the thing: this kid wasn’t a fast runner. He was fat and chubby. People feared him because he had more power. But at this point, I didn’t care.

*Ring, ring.*

The phone! What if the teachers call my parents? Wait, no.

*Ring.*

I took a look at my remaining blocks and grabbed one. The teachers aren’t watching. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

I closed my right eye and focused on my aim. I could hear Victor’s laughing coming from below. He was making a U-turn across the slides. Just as he did, I dropped the block. “This is my payback,” I muttered. But my celebration was bittersweet.

A miss.

“Crap!” I cursed. I would never be able to get my revenge. But I pushed those thoughts away as the thief turned around to look at the block. He was walking towards it! His greed would be the final nail in his coffin! I scurried to grab another wooden block. This is it! My chance!

\*\*\*
“I don’t care about the stew. All I wanted was the mashed potatoes and they said no,” Matthew explained. “At least we got the pizza. Be generous for once,” Kevin persisted.

*Tik, tik, tik.*

“Hey, give that back!” A scream rang through their ears from the other side of the playground. Fair enough—I was pretty loud back then. “Heck was that all about?” Peter asked. “What? I didn’t hear anything,” Keven replied.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” Matthew stands up, a look of curiosity on his face. “Let’s go check it out.”

\*\*\*
I aim, making a dramatic pose. Well, that’s how I remembered it. I can hear Victor’s giggling coming even closer now. Soon, he was right beneath me—and under my thumb, too. But just as I’m about to open my hand and let the wooden block fall on his head, I think to myself: is this the right thing to do?

Sure, Victor had more privileges than us and had stolen my blocks, but was that an excuse to hurt him? No. But at this point, it was too late. I had opened my hand, and the block was about to land right on his head. I widened my eyes in horror as the block tumbled down the air.

A miss.

Oh, thank god. I missed! *Tik, tik, tik*. Footsteps? I look to the side to see Matthew running up to him. Before I knew it, he grabbed the block I had thrown on the ground and chucked it at Victor. Oh, shoot.

\*\*\*
“That’s why you brought him to the nurse?” Matthew asked me, dumbfounded. “Hurting someone isn’t right. That’s what my mom said,” I explained. “Who cares? Victor deserved it, and you told on us!” Kevin cursed me. We couldn’t scream because we were outside of the principal’s office. “I know, but still—” Peter cut me off. “You suck, man,” he insulted. “But—”

“You’re no longer our friend. Don’t come near us ever again, you got that?”

“Oh, come on, Peter! You said we were friends—” He cut me off. “Shut it.” Oh. So that’s how it is. I guess he wasn’t as nice as he seemed.  “And forget what I told you while you’re at it,” Peter added.

I nodded, sighing.