Subtitled: An Attempt To Recap the Unexceptional
Apparently it's been a month since I last updated the blog. To be honest, there's not been anything all that noteworthy to cover -- hence the radio silence on the home front. But since certain children have been hounding me to blog, I'll do my best to scrape the bottom of the barrel here and come up with some content to recap the last few weeks. Without further adieu, here is the latest...
Broken-armed Cinderella
October 30th, 12:32 PM, St. Louis, Missouri. The sun shone bright, enveloping me in heat as I walked out the doors of my school, following the path to the playground as many others were. It was a strange feeling - being hot and sweaty in the month of October - but I didn’t put much thought into it. The only thing on my mind at that moment was making my way across the notorious monkey bars that hung high in the middle of the playing area.
I had been practicing for months on the easier sets, preparing for the day when I would gain the courage to do what hardly anybody else had dared to try. My fingers had many calluses and my legs were covered in scratches and bruises from falling onto the wood chips countless times. My arms were weak from exhaustion everyday, though I could tell they were somehow getting stronger at the same time. Along my journey of preparation, I wondered often if I would ever even accomplish my goal. Months passed by like clockwork as I practiced and practiced. But finally, I was ready.
I swear I could hear whispers all around me as I walked a straight line to the monkey bars. “She won’t do it! She’s only a kindergartner!” some said. “This will be funny,” others laughed. Some kids could only stare, their mind wandering around the concept of somebody actually making it across. I noticed a boy in my class who bothered me quite a bit smirk mischievously as he stood there, arms crossed. I wondered what that meant. I shook my head and focused back on the goal at hand. I was at the ladder. Looking up from here, the bars looked more daunting than ever, but I was determined to make it across. I looked once more at the crowd of kids and turned back to the ladder, their gasps audible as I began climbing up to the top.
That’s the October temperature I know, I thought as I reached the top rung of the ladder. It must be the altitude. Looking down made me dizzy, but peeking at all my fellow classmates was such a temptation. As I allowed myself to take a quick glance at the kids, I soon after lost my footing and toppled forward. Luckily, I was able to grab onto the first of many monkey bars before I could take a swan dive into the wood chips and dirt below me. The students below me gasped and oohed and aahed, a few shushing the others so they could watch me. I smiled as I realized I could still do this. I smiled because I had a chance. Full of confidence now, I reached my right hand to the second bar, my left quickly following after. The third and fourth bar were easy to get the hang of, and soon enough, I was on the fifth. This is easy! I thought.
As I was taking a breather, hanging from the sixth bar, I heard a cry of pain. I looked over in the distance to see a kid - first grade, maybe second - sitting on the ground, wood chips stuck to her shirt and pants, appearing to have fallen off one of the swings. A shiver ran down my spine, feeling for the girl. I know what that’s like. As I turned my head back to where it originally was, my eyes were blocked from the end of the monkey bars by the same boy who had so strangely smiled at me while I was walking to the ladder - Nicholas, a boy in kindergarten with me. He was hanging on the other side, where the main playground equipment and the bars combine. His arms had already reached the second bar.
“What are you doing?!” I asked, worried, “I won’t be able to get past you!”
“Oh, I know.”
What does that mean?
Quickly, and most effortlessly, Nicholas put one hand in front of the other and soon enough, we were face-to-face, only one bar between us. The students below, who had been making exaggerated noises and dramatic gasps almost this whole time, had suddenly gone quiet, wanting to hear every word as I glared at Nicholas. He started laughing.
“I’m gonna ruin your day,” he chuckled darkly.
What does THAT mean?
Before I could even ask that out loud, his feet shot in front of him. He wrapped his legs around my waist and yanked me down.
THUMP! I fell to the ground, landing on my right arm with a crunch. A sharp pain surged through my hand and wrist. It’s probably nothing. I winced in pain as I tried to stand up, failing horribly. I slumped back down and looked around to see all the kids, wondering why nobody was helping me up. They were nowhere to be seen. I guessed recess had just ended. A hand blocks my eyesight and I shift my eyes up to see who offered it. Nicholas. I wanted to look strong and not need him to help me up, but I was really struggling down there. I reluctantly took his hand with my left and stood up.
“Tssst, that looks bad. You should really get it checked out,” he said sarcastically, letting go of my hand - which made me fall back down to the ground. He walked off and I watched him until he went inside the school.
“Jerk,” I whispered under my breath. But he was right - my right arm had already started bruising. It hurt so bad.
Luckily, a teacher came out of one of the doors and noticed me. She helped me up and took me to the nurse’s office. While we were walking there, I told her what happened. All she did was smile and nod. I could tell she wasn’t really paying attention. Oh well.
“Hi, sweetheart! What brings you here?” the nurse said as the teacher opened the door to let me in. She walked off right after.
“Some kid pushed me off the monkey bars and I landed on my arm,” I responded.
“Monkey bars?”
“Monkey bars.”
“Well, let me see it,” the nurse took my hand and flicked it three times, “I think you’ll be fine. Just don’t use it too much.”
What? It felt broken. It looked broken. How could she possibly think it’ll be fine.
“But-” I started.
“Nope, you’ll be okay.”
I sighed.
“Go back to class now,” the nurse shooed me away.
I sulked out of the room. She could’ve at least given me a mint.
----------
After getting off the bus, I walked to my house, the full 10 minutes. Why’s the bus stop so far away from our house? Soon enough I was at my front door, still lost in my thoughts about my arm and Nicholas and the nurse. My mom said hi to me and I told her about what happened. She felt sorry for me but told all of my siblings and I that we still have to go to the Halloween party our family friends invited us too. I was excited to get dressed up in my Cinderella costume, but I had some trouble getting it on. My arm just hurt so bad. I winced through the pain as I put it on. Nothing would stop me from going to the party I had been looking forward to for weeks.
After getting in the car, we drove to the house of the friends. My parents parked on the side of the road in front of their house and unbuckled. However, when I was attempting to get out of the car with everyone, my right hand hit the side of the car and I bent over in pain.
“What just happened?! Are you alright, Sophie?” my mom asked, concerned.
“I’m fine, I promise,” I responded, though I knew I was lying. I’m sure she did too.
We walked inside after my little episode and beelined to the food. I played with some of my friends and the other kids there. My mom interrupted us.
“Sophie, this is Mr. Cutler. He’s a doctor. He’d like to take a look at your hand,” she said, gesturing her hand at a man standing next to her.
“Oh, sure,” I replied, happy somebody actually wanted to check my hand correctly, unlike my school’s nurse.
I held my right arm out and he inspected it carefully for about a minute.
“Yep, that’s broken - fractured, maybe but I’m betting on broken,” he confirmed my theories, “I suggest you take her to an ER or hospital right now to get it checked out and put in a cast.”
My mom called my dad over and told him the news. He offered to take me to the hospital. I was sad to leave my friends, but I really needed my hand to be fixed. It still hurt so bad, maybe even more so considering what happened at the car.
My dad and I got in the car and drove to the hospital. We had to wait so long. I didn’t know what to do while waiting so I just thought, looked around, and thought some more. The fish in the tank in the center of the waiting room looked so bored swimming around, tired and exhausted, I thought. I feel you buddies, I feel you. To be honest, it did start to feel more and more like my head was underwater. I was tired, exhausted, and just worn-out. It was so late. But soon enough, the doctor’s called me in. They gave me an X-ray, and I was later in a cast.
“There,” my dad said as he finished writing the last letter of “dad” on the purple cast.
I signed my own name with a heart around it.
The next day, Nicholas went up to me in class.
“Hey, Sophie,” he said, regret in his voice, “I’m so sorry for breaking your arm, I was really just playing. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Well, you did,” I said matter-of-factly, turning my back to him.
“Well, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, quickly softening his face, “I did it because… well… because I like you.”
I immediately wanted to punch him in the face.
“YOU BROKE MY ARM BECAUSE YOU LIKE ME?!?!?!” I shouted, not caring that everyone in the class turned around to us.
A few kids shook their head at Nicholas and my best friends gasped and booed him.
Nicholas’ face turned red and looked back at me.
“Here, take it,” he shoved a card and a stuffed animal into my hands and sat down at his seat. I glanced at the presents and put them into my cubby carelessly, not caring if they get lost or fall to the floor or get stepped on or anything.
When I got home from school, I got dressed in my costume, too excited to care that we weren’t going trick or treating for another hour or so. I walked down the stairs and walked into the kitchen, modeling my costume for my mom and dad and the rest of my family.
“You’re a broken-armed Cinderella!” my mom exclaimed, laughing.
I laughed with her, “Yes, I guess I am.”
