Post by Robin on Jan 1, 2006 11:48:18 GMT -8
This is a kind of odd piece that I wrote. I had a friend in elementary school who had this meterosexual looking boy who swung on the swings with her, and this is how I imagine they met.
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“You can’t play with us,” Violet Gill said to the boy who had approached her and her posse. “You’re a boy, and boys are gross.”
“But the other boys throw dodge balls at me,” the boy, Seth Cook, said. “They throw dodge balls at the girls, too, so I thought that they wanted me to play with the girls.” He was the same age as Violet and her friends, but he was much smaller. Everybody knows that girls grow faster than boys, and they’re taller than them throughout most of elementary and middle school.
Violet rolled her eyes. “I guess you’re gross and stupid, then. Since you seem not to know, I’ll tell you: you’re a sissy, and boys and girls hate sissies.”
Seth was confused by this statement. “What’s a sissy?” he asked, and Violet giggled.
“Look down at yourself, Seth,” she said. “That’s what a sissy is. Now, leave us alone or I’ll tell Mrs. Schneider that you were trying to look up our skirts.” With that, she flounced off, her “gang” following her. The shortest girl of the group, Sylvia Clement, who was a cute, plump little girl with blonde hair, stayed behind to stick out her tongue at Seth before turning around and jogging to catch up with her friends.
Confused even more, Seth walked over to the swing set, dragging his feet dejectedly. Was there nobody in the whole second grade that would play with him? The thought sounded childish, even to him, but the fact that not even the girls would allow him to hang around them was disturbing. Was he really that offensive? He took a bath every night, and he made sure that his hair was always brushed properly. Perhaps it was his breath. He cupped his hand over his mouth and breathed into it, trying to see if his breath held the tell-tale garlic odor of Pizza Lunchables. Nothing. It could have been the gap in the front of his mouth that had been left over when he lost his two front teeth. He felt it with his fingers, and decided that that wasn’t the issue either.
As he made it over to the swing set, he hopped onto one of the swings and began idly kicking back and forth. His feet didn’t touch the ground.
“Do you even know how to swing right?”
Seth looked up at the sound of a girl’s voice. It was the sweetest voice he had ever heard, like an angel’s. There was a girl a couple of swings down from Seth’s swing, a blonde girl wearing paisley leggings and a big, fuzzy pink sweatshirt.
“I do so know how to swing right,” Seth shouted at her, not because he was angry, but because he was afraid that she wouldn’t hear him.
“You don’t seem to from what I’ve seen of you,” the girl said, her voice full of laughter. She leapt off of her swing and ran over to where Seth was swinging. “Show me that you know how to swing right,” she said.
“Alright then, I will!” Seth said, and he began kicking his legs back and forth until he had attained a respectable height. He was surprised when he looked down and the girl was on the ground, rolling around and laughing like the hyena on ‘The Lion King,’ the annoying one named Eddie, snot running out of her nose.
“What did I do?” he asked indignantly, letting his legs go limp and skidding to a stop.
“You’re doing it all wrong!” she giggled, standing up and wiping tears from her eyes. Composing herself, she said “Show me your hands.”
Seth complied, stretching out his hands to the girl.
“Palms up,” the girl commanded, and Seth flipped his hands over. She studied them with the air of a teacher looking a paper over for errors. After a few moments during which Seth was both confused and worried, she seemed to have made a conclusion.
“No wonder you’re so bad at swinging!” the girl said. “You have no swing calluses at all.”
“Swing calluses?” Seth asked, consternated.
“Yeah, swing calluses. You get ‘em from swinging a lot. I have them, see?” she held out her own hands, palms up, to show Seth the thick, rough patches of skin she had developed at the middle of all her fingers. “They keep your hands from hurting on swings with no plastic over the chains, and they show that you’re good at swinging.”
“I see,” Seth said, though he didn’t really see at all.
The girl sighed, rolling her eyes like Violet Gill had, although she didn’t roll hers in a mean way. She was simply exasperated. “Boys,” she said. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’ll show you how.”
She mounted the swing next to Seth’s with the confident air of a cowboy mounting a loyal steed. Unlike Seth, her feet touched the ground. She backed up until just the tips of her sneakers were touching the ground, and then kicked off.
“Hi-ho Silver! Away!” she shouted as she flew forwards on the swing, giggling as she went. Her legs kicked out when she went forwards, like Seth’s had, but when she went back, she pulled. “The trick is to pull when you go back,” she told Seth, still swinging. “Try it!”
“Okay,” Seth said, and began imitating her motions.
“You’re getting it!” she exclaimed, and then laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You!” she said, and then tilted her head back and laughed, so that when she went back she was laughing at the ground.
Eventually, the bell rang for them to go back inside. Recess was over. Seth, who had been soaring as high in the swing as the girl, skidded to a stop and got out of the seat. The girl simply jumped out, landing on her feet and running over to Seth without so much as a moment of recovery.
“Will I see you again tomorrow?” Seth said.
“Of course you will, silly,” she said. “You still have a long way to go before you’re a champion swinger like me.” With that, she began running towards the school.
“Wait!” Seth called. “I don’t even know your name!”
“I’m Lauren!” she shouted, turning her head back to look at the small boy running after her. Her protrusive lips shifted themselves into a huge smile that lit up her round face, her long hair flying out behind her. “Lauren L.”
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“You can’t play with us,” Violet Gill said to the boy who had approached her and her posse. “You’re a boy, and boys are gross.”
“But the other boys throw dodge balls at me,” the boy, Seth Cook, said. “They throw dodge balls at the girls, too, so I thought that they wanted me to play with the girls.” He was the same age as Violet and her friends, but he was much smaller. Everybody knows that girls grow faster than boys, and they’re taller than them throughout most of elementary and middle school.
Violet rolled her eyes. “I guess you’re gross and stupid, then. Since you seem not to know, I’ll tell you: you’re a sissy, and boys and girls hate sissies.”
Seth was confused by this statement. “What’s a sissy?” he asked, and Violet giggled.
“Look down at yourself, Seth,” she said. “That’s what a sissy is. Now, leave us alone or I’ll tell Mrs. Schneider that you were trying to look up our skirts.” With that, she flounced off, her “gang” following her. The shortest girl of the group, Sylvia Clement, who was a cute, plump little girl with blonde hair, stayed behind to stick out her tongue at Seth before turning around and jogging to catch up with her friends.
Confused even more, Seth walked over to the swing set, dragging his feet dejectedly. Was there nobody in the whole second grade that would play with him? The thought sounded childish, even to him, but the fact that not even the girls would allow him to hang around them was disturbing. Was he really that offensive? He took a bath every night, and he made sure that his hair was always brushed properly. Perhaps it was his breath. He cupped his hand over his mouth and breathed into it, trying to see if his breath held the tell-tale garlic odor of Pizza Lunchables. Nothing. It could have been the gap in the front of his mouth that had been left over when he lost his two front teeth. He felt it with his fingers, and decided that that wasn’t the issue either.
As he made it over to the swing set, he hopped onto one of the swings and began idly kicking back and forth. His feet didn’t touch the ground.
“Do you even know how to swing right?”
Seth looked up at the sound of a girl’s voice. It was the sweetest voice he had ever heard, like an angel’s. There was a girl a couple of swings down from Seth’s swing, a blonde girl wearing paisley leggings and a big, fuzzy pink sweatshirt.
“I do so know how to swing right,” Seth shouted at her, not because he was angry, but because he was afraid that she wouldn’t hear him.
“You don’t seem to from what I’ve seen of you,” the girl said, her voice full of laughter. She leapt off of her swing and ran over to where Seth was swinging. “Show me that you know how to swing right,” she said.
“Alright then, I will!” Seth said, and he began kicking his legs back and forth until he had attained a respectable height. He was surprised when he looked down and the girl was on the ground, rolling around and laughing like the hyena on ‘The Lion King,’ the annoying one named Eddie, snot running out of her nose.
“What did I do?” he asked indignantly, letting his legs go limp and skidding to a stop.
“You’re doing it all wrong!” she giggled, standing up and wiping tears from her eyes. Composing herself, she said “Show me your hands.”
Seth complied, stretching out his hands to the girl.
“Palms up,” the girl commanded, and Seth flipped his hands over. She studied them with the air of a teacher looking a paper over for errors. After a few moments during which Seth was both confused and worried, she seemed to have made a conclusion.
“No wonder you’re so bad at swinging!” the girl said. “You have no swing calluses at all.”
“Swing calluses?” Seth asked, consternated.
“Yeah, swing calluses. You get ‘em from swinging a lot. I have them, see?” she held out her own hands, palms up, to show Seth the thick, rough patches of skin she had developed at the middle of all her fingers. “They keep your hands from hurting on swings with no plastic over the chains, and they show that you’re good at swinging.”
“I see,” Seth said, though he didn’t really see at all.
The girl sighed, rolling her eyes like Violet Gill had, although she didn’t roll hers in a mean way. She was simply exasperated. “Boys,” she said. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’ll show you how.”
She mounted the swing next to Seth’s with the confident air of a cowboy mounting a loyal steed. Unlike Seth, her feet touched the ground. She backed up until just the tips of her sneakers were touching the ground, and then kicked off.
“Hi-ho Silver! Away!” she shouted as she flew forwards on the swing, giggling as she went. Her legs kicked out when she went forwards, like Seth’s had, but when she went back, she pulled. “The trick is to pull when you go back,” she told Seth, still swinging. “Try it!”
“Okay,” Seth said, and began imitating her motions.
“You’re getting it!” she exclaimed, and then laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You!” she said, and then tilted her head back and laughed, so that when she went back she was laughing at the ground.
Eventually, the bell rang for them to go back inside. Recess was over. Seth, who had been soaring as high in the swing as the girl, skidded to a stop and got out of the seat. The girl simply jumped out, landing on her feet and running over to Seth without so much as a moment of recovery.
“Will I see you again tomorrow?” Seth said.
“Of course you will, silly,” she said. “You still have a long way to go before you’re a champion swinger like me.” With that, she began running towards the school.
“Wait!” Seth called. “I don’t even know your name!”
“I’m Lauren!” she shouted, turning her head back to look at the small boy running after her. Her protrusive lips shifted themselves into a huge smile that lit up her round face, her long hair flying out behind her. “Lauren L.”
