Dim Lights and Butterflies

one

The sound of trainers squeaking against polished wood of the gymnasium echoes along the walls, where children yelling over the top of each other bounces as much as the balls in their hands that gets thrown to and from the middle line.

A whistle blows, piercing the ears and the shrieking, laughter, and chatter from the kids comes to an abrupt stop.

"Right," Louis begins, letting the whistle drop from his mouth from where it hangs around his neck, slapping his chest. He spins a dodgeball along his finger, striding back and forth at the length of the hall, the kids trailing his movements.

"Orange team, good team work. Purple team, what happened out there?" he questions, directing his question to the children wearing the purple sport bibs.

He's so glad he doesn't have to wear them again. The smell alone makes his nose scrunch up.

"We need teamwork, guys! We can't hog the balls, Calvin, and don't exclude the girls, Timothy." He eyes the two boys who squirm a little under his gaze. "Do I gotta split you two up?"

"No, Mr Tomlinson," the young boys mutter in unison, heads bowed low in shame.

"Show me that, then. Orange, as you did win, you're gonna be against me! Behind the line!" He sorts out the dodgeballs to lay in the middle line that strikes across the gym hall.

The purple team sit out, sulking that they lost their last game. Louis blows the whistle, and the orange team charges for the middle, screaming in battle.

But Louis is quick. He's got skills. He's fast, he's agile, and he has a good throw. So when he brings half the balls to his side of the hall, he uses his tactics to dodge the balls flying his way and throws the rest, tagging out kid after kid.

"This isn't fair!" Isla cries as she stomps off to the side of the hall. "You're a lot bigger than us!"

"There's eight of you, and one of me! The favour is on your side!" Louis argues, tagging out Isla's twin, Lisa.

There's only two of the eight orange team left standing. Cameron, and Zach.

Zach lobs the ball, and it almost hits Louis's knee, but he's quick to hop over it. He lobs his own ball.

Thwack.

"Shit," Louis hisses, watching as his dodgeball hits the side of Cameron's temple and the small kid collapses to the floor.

He jogs over, heart hammering in his chest. He doesn't want this kid to be properly hurt, but by the way his eyes are closed shut, he notices how much this child is hurt, a bruise already forming on the temple.

"Savannah, Freya, go get Miss Windsor!" he orders, referring to the school nurse and receptionist.

The two girls run out of the hall and out of sight.

"Cam, love, can you hear me?" Louis gently voices, tapping lightly at the boy's freckled cheek.

Please wake up, for God's sake, wake up!

"What has happened in here?" Miss Windsor asks, scurrying into the room with a first aid kit.

"Mr Tomlinson," some of the kids cheep up, pointing an accusating finger at Louis.

"It was an accident! The dodgeball went too high. I'm so sorry, Cameron!" he weakly gives, feeling like the world around him will just crumble. His heart hammers loudly in his chest, and he has this awful feeling of just sobbing. But he keeps himself strong, if not for himself, then for the scared kids surrounding them.

Cameron's eyes flutter open, and he stares around himself. Louis feels relief flood through him instantly.

"Wh-what happened?" Cameron mumbles, wincing at his sore head.