First Grade Agony

Capture the Flag

    "Guys, there's an opponent on our field!"
    "Get him!"
    My classmates and I were playing Capture the Flag during lunch to celebrate the last month of school. Everyone had agreed to play except for my friend, Nathan, who normally would never pass up the chance to play his favorite outdoor game. He was nowhere in sight, and everyone was worried, especially me. Who knows, I thought, hoping my hunch wasn't true. Maybe the quartet has found another victim.
    Seeing that the fool who ran into our defenses was caught, I slowly walked back to my position, my watchful eyes looking over my shoulder, expecting to find a psycho group of bullies following me.
    "What's wrong, Diya?" a voice called out from behind me. I spun around, my legs squatting into a defensive position.
Seeing that it was just my friend, Sydney, I relaxed, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.
    "Nothin'. I'm just peachy," I mumbled, my eyes staring at the grass, not wanting to meet Sydney's stormy grey-blue eyes as they narrowed, picking up the words that I would never use.
    "What's going on? You've been so - so paranoid lately. You haven't even told us if there is a reason or not. And then I can't help you, because you're keeping us in the dark!" she replied, her voice rising by the second.
    "Sydney, I-" I started.
    "No! I don't want to hear it. Either you tell the people who care about you what's going on, or we can't be friends anymore. This just isn't how friendship works," she said, cutting me off, turning on her heel and walking back to her post.
    I wanted to talk to her, to all of my friends. I wanted to tell them my situation so badly. But I never did, 'cause I was an idiot, wanting to 'tough it out' instead.
    I was still traumatized from my recent attack, and being guarded had just grown to become part of personality. Now that I look back on the ordeal, my lack of conversation and emotion was kind of like Emma Swan's red leather jacket in my favorite show, Once Upon A Time. She used her jacket to protect her deepest secrets, as if it was an invisible barrier from those she didn't trust.
    I was standing at my post in front of the bench overgrown with trumpet creepers. The flowers were a soft sunset color, the bell-shaped blossoms leaning towards the sun, yearning for energy and life.
    I heard a soft rustle, from behind me.
    From the vines.
    Before I could turn around, something, or rather, someone grabbed the collar of my T-shirt and pulled me behind the bench. Oh no, not again, I thought, frantically shaking and battling the hands that pinned me to the fence. Staying calm wouldn't work this time, I was still too mortified by the last ambush.
    I opened my eyes, finding that the whole group wasn't there. Only Brian was there, snarling and glaring in my direction, an order to stop fighting and accept my fate. I desperately searched my surroundings for an escape, stopping only when I noticed the figure standing to my left.
    It was Nathan.
    Emotions were suddenly hurled into my heart: anger, shock, and most of all, betrayal. Spots of red colored my vision, a sign that I had to calm down or I would go out of control.
    "Why are you, of all people, doing this? I thought you were my friend!" I screamed, my eyes wide and bloodshot from endless, constant, rage, the source of my strength.
    Brian, seeing that I was starting to become a challenge, pinched me, hard. In my opinion, it was more of a high-pressured grasp, 'cause it hurt a lot.
I bit my tongue to hold back from screaming, clawing my way out of Brian's hold. The bell had already rung, and I galloped back to the classroom, desperate to be safe under the watch of my teacher.
    Ms. Allen, my amazing mentor, had been waiting for me in the doorway, scanning the playground for my tall and scrawny figure. As I neared the classroom door, her head spun towards me, her eyes narrowing as she took in the few stray tears sliding down my cheeks. Deciding to not ask questions outside, she simply nodded, angling her body to allow me in.
    The moment I stepped into the room and took my seat, my friends bombarded me with questions.
    "Where were you?"
    "Why are you crying?"
    "Tell us what happened."
    And so I obliged them.
    I told them every bit that had happened that day. Ms. Allen, quietly listening from the far corner, picked up the phone and called Brian's teacher, seeming to understand who my attacker was from the description I had given.
    Three hours later, Brian was called to the office and expelled.
    Three hours later, my problems of first grade bullying had stopped.