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Remidius Adelaide is a boy who has always found a deep hatred for un-orderly things and poor choices. There is something so very ugly about those two things that drive him to the point of absolute irritation. Of course, no other third grade minded such a small problem when they had other things on their mind, like video games and robot toys and what not. Remi stares warily at the scene of the two boys in the distance, laughing and tackling each other down into the grass as if they have gone mad.
He sighs and picks at a strand of grass by his hand. Tilting his head to the sky, Remi stares at the muddled pink and grey skies, fascinated by the amount of sadness the clouds emitted. As the only third grader who is rather fluent in three languages, read books exceedingly well at a high school level, and finds that typical third grade activities were time consuming and useless- even he is too young to understand the strange sinking feeling he had felt in his heart as he looked at the beginning of the sunset. There is nothing, no specific vocabulary word that he could find to describe such an emotion.
The boys are crying. Remi shifts his attention away from the sky and brings himself to stare at the childish mess that they have created. A scraped knee and a bruised arm is all it takes for a game to become a disaster. He doesn't bother to get up from where he was sitting. Instead, he continues to watch as the smaller boy begins to sob at the sight of the little bleeding cuts on his knees. The larger boy looks upset, worried even.
The larger boy stares at the little kid's wounds and begins to apologize, his eyes wide and filled with absolute sorrow. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, I swear! Remi's brows furrow in confusion and he pulls at the piece of grass. It feels cold and slippery beneath his small fingers. Other pieces of grass poke through his jeans and brush against the bottom hem of his blue t-shirt. He doesn't understand why the bigger boy would apologize for hurting the smaller boy, and nor can he comprehend why the smaller boy would cry over an injury that he had agreed to from the beginning. If the little boy had not agreed to play in the first place, he would not have gotten hurt; what is the point of apologizing when the harm has already been done?
Remi's curiosity broadens as he watches the little boy shove the larger boy's body away in anger. The larger boy staggers back, shocked, and now angry that his apology has been denied. Fragile tears fall from the little boy's face as he waves his head around, hands scrambling in the air. Go away, get away from me! Get away, he seems to say, although the wind seems to swallow up his each of his words from the distance.
The larger boy's face twists into a mad expression, his once caring eyes now hardening into a foul glare. You asked for it! It's your fault you can't handle a little hit, he snarls, but Remi can hear the sliver of hurt heard within the whistle of the breeze that carried around the grassy area. I said I was sorry! Why are you crying so much?
Was this what having a friend was like? If so, Remi believes that it is completely ridiculous as to why others bother having a useless companion that can only do damage oneself. That is why he has always found peace in solitude, where he can roam freely in his thoughts, free from petty fights and scrapes and bruises. Which brings him to his next thought; should he consider his only cousin as a friend?
