Illiterate [Discontinued]

Third Grade

SUMMER CAME TO AN END a week ago, but to the dismay of my sweaty peers, the sun continued to beat down on us. According to the radio, the heat wave would continue to swallow our town whole for a few more days.

The final bell rang and clusters of kids left the playground to begin the long walk home. I overheard a group of girls saying they wanted to race to the ice cream shop down the road, then some boys who wanted to go to the arcade. Maybe I could catch up to one of them.

However, I lifted my backpack from the pavement and all my hopes drowned. It was so heavy with homework and library books that I would struggle to make it home, nevermind to the arcade. Video games could wait until tomorrow.

As I began to walk away, I heard a strange sound come from the playground. It rang like a whimper, but I didn't see anyone standing around. I took a few steps in the direction of the noise and my eyes widened; a boy was laying face-down in a pile of woodchips behind the swings. I walked until I was close enough to stand above him and cleared my throat.

"Hey, didn't you hear the bell ring?" I asked.

He lifted his head and stared at me. His eyes were full of tears, his hair was out of place, and his arm sported a yellow-ish bruise. Even his neck had a little red scrape. The boy was a rumpled mess.

"I'm sorry," he said with a soft voice, "I just..."

I kneeled down on the splintering woodchips and examined his body, "What happened to you?"

The boy wiped a tear from his eye, "It's nothing."

"Hmmm..." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" He asked.

"I think you aren't telling me the truth."

He wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his shirt and sat up beside me. His eyes looked red and welled-up with tears, but kept a steady gaze on me. His voice trembled as he spoke.

"One of those boys pushed me off the swing and beat me."

My jaw dropped. I imagined that some albino, buck-toothed, milk-loving bully punching him and stealing his lunch money like they did in the movies.

"Why'd he hurt you?"

The boy sighed, then stood from the ground. He sat on the swing, but never let go of his bruised arm, and continued in a shameful tone. "He said I was an idiot because I can't read."

I put on a confused look and stood up alongside him. The boy looked at me with a pout on his face and clutched the chains of the swing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I wrinkled my nose, knowing my response was less than he expected. I didn't know what else to say.

He pressed his mouth into a thin line before he replied. "No, it's okay."

Both of us shifted our eyes back to the schoolyard. All the other kids fled to their homes and the local shops, leaving us in the dust of the playground. A light breeze kicked up, cooling our skin and rustling the trees above us.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"It's Jenna. What about you?"

"My name is Steven," he said, "and I'm kind of glad you didn't come here to hurt me."

He looked to me again and I forced a smile. "Yeah, it's too hot for that."