10 - Thea
Thea
THE PLAYGROUND IS chaos. Kids are running in every direction, kicking a ball, yelling their heads off… while I’m standing by the Admin building door, arms full of notebooks, watching it all unfold.
I can’t believe my two-month term is almost up. I’ll miss this place. I’ll miss these kids.
A shriek cuts through the noise, and my head snaps toward the far end of the playground, near the monkey bars.
A boy is on the ground, flat on his back, and standing over him is Sara.
I almost drop every notebook in my hands. I cross the playground at a sprint, and by the time I reach them, a small crowd of kids has already formed a ring around the two.
This boy, I recognize him. He’s from a class in a higher grade. Sara still hasn’t moved. Her feet are planted firmly, and by the looks of it, she maneuvered him to the ground herself. An eight-year-old dropped a boy way bigger than her.
I crouch down next to him.
“Hey. Hey, are you okay? What’s your name?” I help him to his feet. There is a small scratch on one elbow, but not bleeding.
“Silas.”
“Do you feel any pain?”
He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and shakes his head. “She pushed me. She pushed me really hard.”
I look at Sara. Her chin is up, and she looks angry.
“Sara, can you tell me what happened?” My teacher voice comes out automatically.
“He grabbed my arm.”
The boy’s face scrunches. “I was just—”
“He grabbed my arm,” Sara repeats, and her voice is firm, steady. “Uncle said if someone touches me without my permission, I can protect myself.”
Killian, he told her to do this. Well of course he did.
I turn back to the boy. “Silas, did you grab Sara’s arm?”
“I just wanted to talk to her. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”
“Silas, listen to me. If you want to be friends with someone, you use your words first. You ask. You don’t grab. Friendship is two-way. Both people have to want it. Okay?”
He nods, wiping the dirt off his shorts. “Sorry, Sara.”
“Okay. Go wash your elbow.”
He shuffles off, glancing back once at Sara—who hasn’t replied and still looks irritated—before he disappears into the crowd.
“That was quite a move.”
“My uncles are teaching me.”
“Your uncles?”
“Uncle Kilian, Uncle Ronan, and Uncle Soren.” She counts them off on her fingers. “They do self-defense with me on Saturdays. Uncle Ronan says I’m the best student he’s ever had.”
A small, almost invisible smile appears when she says it. The first I’ve ever seen on her face. And I’m surprised by how freely she’s volunteering information. Not the usual one-word answer. This is more than I’ve gotten from her, ever.
I want to keep her talking.
“They must be good teachers.”
“They’re really strong.” Sara looks down at her forearm and turns it over. A bruise, similar to the one I saw on my first day, faded now but is still visible. “Sometimes it hurts because they forget I’m small. But they all get into trouble with Uncle Kilian when that happens.”
Self-defense. Uncles who are too strong and forget she’s small. A guardian who holds everyone accountable when she gets hurt.
The bell rings, the sound so sharp it’s supposed to signal urgency, but my feet are bolted to the ground. Sara turns and walks toward the building without saying anything else. Kids scatter around me, and I’m left standing alone in the middle of the playground.
I already know I misjudged him. I already know I was wrong. But somehow, today, that realization hits me in a whole new way.