Sprinting across the sun-scorched grass, I set my sights on the rickety swing set. I know that once I reach my favorite swing and hop on, the rubber seat will burn the back of my legs terribly, and it will feel as if my hands are gripping hot coals. Neither of these consequences will matter though, once I start flying upward, ever closer to infinity and beyond.
As I approach my destination, I hear fast-approaching footsteps. I look over my shoulder to see who is racing me. It’s the new boy in class, Johnny Simmons. Why is he running the same direction as me…and why does he have that mean glint in his eyes? Is he trying to beat me to MY swing?! Johnny is quickly catching up, so I force my scrawny legs to move even faster, desperate to reach the swing set before him. Just a few more feet….
Success! I grasp the metal chains and hop into the seat, immediately making the swing move into action. I think I am the winner, but then my face slams into the dirt. I cry out as pain shoots through my neck, arms, and legs. I roll over to lie on my back and look up. There’s Johnny, standing behind the now vacant swing, his arms still in the position they were in when he shoved me just a moment before. I glance down at myself to see my new blue outfit my mom just bought me this past weekend covered with grass stains and dirt. My knees and forearms are scraped from the fall, and my shirt is torn at the bottom. I glare back at him as he jumps into the swing seat and starts to taunt me, saying, “Haha, you’re a loser! You’re all dirty now and I got the swing! I’m better than you! Na-nana-nana-na!”
“Hey, that wasn’t very nice! Why did you do that?” I demand. Maybe I should tell our teacher that he is being a jerk.
His face contorts into a grimace as he answers, “Because you’re a girl, and girls are stupid. This is MY swing now!”
Oh, it’s on. No way am I going to tell the teacher now. She would probably just tell him not to push me anymore and that is it. No, I am going to teach Johnny a little lesson myself. As he starts to swing, laughing obnoxiously at my appearance, I calmly stand up and wipe off the blood, dirt, and blades of grass from my clothes and body. I turn and give him a sweet smile, replying, “Okay, Johnny. I’ll let you have the swing. See you later.” As I expect, that shuts him up immediately. Now he has a confused and frustrated look on his face. He has no idea what he got himself into.
I walk over to Dylan and Jessica playing on the seesaws and tell them what happened. Naturally, they order me to go tattle on him, but that seems to fall short of my devious plans. I’m waiting for my chance at revenge. My opportune moment arrives so very soon when dear ignorant Johnny shows up at the teeter-totters. I ask him sweetly, “Would you like to play on the seesaws with me, Johnny?”
“Um, okay,” he replies, oblivious to the oncoming embarrassment he is about to experience. We climb onto the ends of the metal plank and push off, going up and down in a calming, rhythmic pattern. He starts to relax and let his guard down, watching the various activities happening around the playground, never noticing the sadistic grin slowly spreading across my face. While his head is turned away from my direction, my side of the seesaw lowers to the ground and I leap off the end. The resulting chaos is so worth the punishment I know is coming my way. THUD! BANG! CRUNCH! SQUEAL! The violent sounds of catastrophe resonates throughout the entire schoolyard, signaling the teachers to run to little Johnny’s rescue. His injuries are no worse than mine, yet the ladies decide to send me to the “time-out tree.” I feel this is unreasonable, so I turn on the tears, shrieking that he had pushed me down earlier and laughed at me. Instead of taking away my sentence, the teachers also send Johnny to the time-out tree to suffer with me. Well, my plan just backfired.
So now I am stuck sitting by that evil little boy for the next thirty minutes. Why did I ever give into the little devil on my shoulder? Smooth words and sly thinking ultimately end in disaster. I need to learn that fact fast. The first few minutes are spent in tense silence, both of us glaring off in different directions. Sighing, I lean back against the tree and turn to grimace at him.
“Why do the teachers always feel like they have to ruin the joyful game of revenge?” I wonder dejectedly. Johnny shrugs and lies back in the grass.
“They’ve forgotten the happiness it brings to us children,” he states matter-of-factly, lazily ripping grass out of the ground.
“Look at that old bat, standing there like she’s the queen of this school. What a witch.”
“When do you think she’s gonna fly off on her broom back to her cave? I really hope it’s soon so we can go back to torturing each other. That was SO MUCH FUN! I was definitely not expecting that teeter-totter move. Brilliance!”
“Thank you very much,” I say, flattered that one of my schemes is actually appreciated. “I have to applaud the way you initiated this war. You have no idea how long I have been waiting for someone who had a decent evil streak with whom to duel.”
Johnny flashes an enchanting grin my way, then falls into a thoughtful silence. After staring off into space for a short length of time, his eyes light up and he swings his head back toward me. “I have a plan! It will only work if you’re a part of it.”
“You have my attention; explain to me this plan you have in mind,” I respond, my eager tone evident.
“Now this will only work if we work together. With your devious mind and my charismatic ways, it will be a breeze to pull off. Here’s my proposal: hostile takeover of our school administration. Just a temporary overthrow, mind you. Running a school can become such a buzz kill. We will need to start with our teacher, then move to the rest of the second-grade teachers, then the other teachers, and finally end with the principal.”
“No word exists in the English language to express my elation in hearing of this elaborate conspiracy you have laid out. You have now become my favorite evil-minded comrade. When should we act on this plot?”
“Tomorrow. Meet back here. Come up with some ways for me to distract the teachers; I’ll devise a way for you to sneak into our classroom during recess. The rest will be explained tomorrow.”
I think I may have found my soul mate. “Affirmative. I’ve a feeling this will end epically, no matter if it is success or fail.”
The bell screeches, bringing our brainstorming to a sudden stop. We look at each other for an infinite moment, quietly assessing the change in our relationship status. In the span of an hour, we have gone from ruthless rivals to conspiring companions. Standing, we shake hands to seal the deal and race back to the line forming by the fence. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
P.S.- Mr. Whitby, by now I’m sure you have realized how absurdly ridiculous this story is when you consider the limited vocabulary that the majority of second-graders have, but as this is fictional, I decided to extend the amount of words of which Johnny and my younger self are knowledgeable . It seemed fitting to their mindsets. Also, I believe that children should start young in broadening their vocabulary. Oh, and don’t be concerned about their evil-genius thought process. It’s just the sadistic child in me shining out on paper. :)
