Not Today

Johnny swung on the swing set, watching his classmates play in that awful sandbox. How can they? He thought to himself. That box is filled with dirt and mud and cat s**t. At least that’s what mom says. I can’t play in cat s**t. What if mom ever saw me playing in cat s**t? Would she hit me? She would probably hit me. Yea, she would definitely hit me. I won’t play in the cat s**t. I’ll just swing more. 

The swing rose higher and higher until Johnny nearly touched the sky. He kicked his feet, attempting to break that blue barrier. So close. He kept kicking. His last kick sent his shoe flying 30 feet into the air above, and it landed another 50 feet away. Vince caught site of the spectacle and rushed over to Johnny.

“Hey, how did you do that?” Vince asked. His curiosity struck Johnny, who meant not to be spoken to that day. Johnny looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out who this kid was. 

“I just kicked my leg. I was trying to break the sky.” He said back. Vince looked up at the sky, the puffy Simpson-clouds strolled by, making their way across this dreary, random day. 

“Can I try?” His head still pointed upward. 

“I guess.” Johnny jumped off of the swing and chased his shoe down. He slipped it back on. When he turned around his swing was occupied by Vince. The swing next to it had also been taken by the beautiful, the divine Marissa. Johnny dared not to speak to her. She could destroy with him a look, a gesture. But he couldn’t stop looking at her. He tried to do it subtly. God save him if he be noticed. 

“Why are you staring at me?” The words came out in broken tones, matching the pendulum dance Marissa played with the swing. Johnny only looked away. He made his way to the side of Vince’s swing, and leaned on the pole of the swing set, looking out onto the box of cat s**t. The kids through sand at each other’s faces and laughed and screamed with joy. Disgusting, Johnny thought.

“Why don’t you ever talk?” The question came again with a strange sway to it. Johnny looked at Marissa with terror. Why? Why on this day? He thought. Today is surely not the day she is to talk to me. This can’t happen today. He stared, trying to think of a word to attempt to say to her, but none of them were good enough. He would never be good enough. 

“I almost got it!” Vince screamed as he wailed his legs. Every time Marissa would hit the highest point of her back swing, she would look down onto Johnny, her glowing tomato hair flying high behind her. It followed her gracious swing, a burning flame flickering against her alabaster skin. A goddess, maybe a witch. To Johnny, it didn’t matter. Today was not the day. 

“Yer weird.” The words broke him. He turned his face to look away from Marissa, away from the sandbox, away from everything. 

“I got it!” Vince yelled and his shoe punctured flew high above the swing set. He slowed the swing to a stop.

“Did you see that?!” He exclaimed, addressing Johnny.

“No.” Johnny said. Oh no. She heard. Beyond Vince, Marissa stopped her swing, and made her way to Johnny. He shuffled in his spot, unsure of his situation. Marissa put her hands on her hips, noticeably upset. She looked down at her shoes and kicked at the mulch.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” She asked. He couldn’t answer. He wouldn't answer. No, this was not the day to be doing something like this. He looked back over at the sandbox and thought disgust, disgust, disgust. Was she gone yet? No, there she stood, hands on hips, waiting for an answer. Vince chased his shoe. He picked it up and examined it, like he was seeing it for the first time. 

“Huh-Low!!” Her question was filled with impatience. She tapped her foot on the stinky mulch again. Why does she have to do that? Johnny thought. Why is she here? Why today? Is Vince back yet? He looked for his savior to come, but to no avail. Vince was gone, though his shoe lie unattended. Dread-filled Johnny looked at Marissa dead in the eyes. He shrugged: a quick, almost undetectable shrug.

“What does that mean?!” Marissa’s eyebrows shot up in confusion, her hands with them. She towered over Johnny now. She was no longer the divine, but a terror amongst him. His infatuation was replaced by total fear as he cowered in his mind. I can’t do this, Johnny thought. I can’t, I won’t. What if they hear about this? What if they see me? What will they do? Today isn’t the right day. 

“I’m gonna tell on you!” Marissa said it. He heard it. Johnny would face an ultimatum. On a day like this, who could have thought such a thing would happen. He could feel his heart beating deep in his stomach. Marissa bolted, her feet flying across the blacktop to the nearest lunch lady. Instinct struck. Johnny raced behind her, his enormous shirt flapping against the clammy April air. 

“Wait! NO!” Johnny yelled at her. Anything but this, please not this. Anything else. The words caught Marissa and she stopped, 20 feet short of the evil Ms. Miller. Johnny dodged one nightmare, though he was about to fall into his next. He trotted the last little distance between the two and stood at a distance far enough to make the situation awkward.

“You have to talk to me, or ah’ll tell on you” She made her point clear. Johnny didn’t want to think of anything to say, so he let his body take over while his mind laid rest.

“Can’t you just go away?” He whined. 

“Why are you being mean to me?” Mean? He thought. No, never mean. I can’t be mean. If they find out if I’m mean, what will they do to me? Me, Mean? No, I’m nice. But still, he let his body do the talking.

“I don’t know.” His voice was still whiny. How could it be this day? I never wanted this to happen today. This isn’t how the day was supposed to go. Not today.

“Yer so weird!” Marissa yelled at him. She stuck her chest out when she yelled. She meant it. And Johnny knew it. The nightmare was over but the grief was yet to strike. The day came too early. He would regret this forever. He knew after the first words she said. Marissa walked away with an angry pace, her arms folded inside of her. Johnny watched as her pink hoody bopped away with grace. She turned her head and looked back with hatred. And maybe a hint of curiosity. 

Johnny lowered his shoulders and his head and made his way back to his swing. Vince was in the sandbox. Johnny watched him as he picked up what at first appeared to be a rock, but was much more sinister. Johnny’s stomach chuckled. He plopped down at his swing, and loosened his shoe to be ready to burst that blue wall. 

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I love stories with kids in them, and this one is great. I'm pretty sure I know Johnny. He is me, in fact. It's well-written, but wish the text was larger for the sake of my old, weak eyes. Wrong word here--"The kids through sand..."