Screams of laughter and chatter crowded the indoor park. Kids chased each other on trampolines, and another group of older kids, teenagers, bounced off the springy fabric with swift flips and kicks. There was a zip-line, two basketball goals, and two swings (one lower to the ground, and the other towering over the foam blocks).
I was standing beside those swings in front of a wall that curved up until it was completely vertical to the ground.
There were four boys, two of them around six or seven years of age, the third one was twelve. The other was around fifteen and the same height as me, despite his age. They were taking turns running up the wall and attempting to climb to the top.
One by one each boy disappeared over the ledge. Then I decided to jump in.
"Can I try?" I called to the oldest boy, who was a year older than me.
"Sure," he yelled back. He scooted out of the way, still sitting on the ledge. And he seemed ready to lift me up if I needed any help.
I stood there in hesitation for a moment, and then I ran up with awkward, pounding steps. My fingers were a hand's length away from the ledge, and then I felt myself slowly slide down with a squeak. I felt my ponytail loosen. My socks with rubber grippers at the bottom started to pull off and attach themselves to the wall.
The moment after I fell to the bottom I pulled my socks back on and tried again. I tried three times before I gave up.
After a while I left with my mom and sister, only to come back again a few weeks later.
YOU ARE READING
The Wall
Non-FictionA young girl of age thirteen faces a large challenge, in her eyes, of running up a wall. She eventually learns that confidence and belief are the steps to accomplishing challenges. You will also notice that sometimes a little bit of desperation can...
