Friends & Belonging
The Game Already Started
A yellow chalk line ran from the fence to the drainpipe. Teddy was It. He came tearing around the corner, arms out like a crab. The girl with two buns shrieked and leapt onto the line, half a second too fast for him. “Safe!” Teddy skidded. Looked around. Who next?
Priya stood by the fence with her jump rope over one shoulder. Every time she shifted her feet, the handles went knock, knock against her arm. She had been standing on exactly this spot since the whistle blew. Exactly this one.
Teddy shot past so close his sleeve brushed the fence. He was chasing the boy in the red sweater. For one whole second Priya could have reached out and touched him. He didn’t look over. He was already watching where the red sweater would run.
By now Priya knew the whole game, every bit of it. The yellow line: safe. The drainpipe: home. And whoever was It had to shout it, loud, before they started. She could have been It in her sleep.
Over by the school, the lunch lady started stacking the orange cones. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. That only ever meant one thing: ten minutes of recess left. Priya knew that too. You learn a lot, standing very still by a fence.
Priya squeezed the rope handles. Let go. Squeezed again. Teddy was It again, turning back toward the middle of the yard. Any second now he’d be off after someone else, and the game would roll on without her. Again.
Teddy spun back toward the middle of the yard. And for one second, nobody at all was looking at the fence.
What does Priya do?
Every choice costs something. Let’s see what.
Run in and start playing
Priya let go of the fence and ran. Straight into the middle of the chase, straight onto the yellow line, a big jump, just like the girl with two buns. “Safe!” Same word. Same way. Teddy froze, arms still half out. “Wait. Who tagged you?”
Nobody had tagged her. The boy in the red sweater stopped too. All three of them just stood there on the blacktop, and the whole game stopped with them. “She’s not even playing,” said the girl with two buns. Not mean. Just a fact.
“I wanted to play,” said Priya, out loud, into the middle of three faces looking at her. It came out smaller than she meant. Teddy looked at the other two. Nobody said anything for one second. It felt like about forty.
“Fine,” said Teddy at last. “But it’s four now, so home only counts if two of you get there together.” He said it like an old rule. It was a brand-new rule. He’d made it up right there. Priya nodded fast, before anyone could change their mind.
The chase started again, and this time Priya was in it, really in it, racing for the drainpipe with the rope still banging on her arm because she’d forgotten to take it off. For a round or two the other three kept half a step away from her, just in case she shouted Safe again. Then Teddy forgot all about it and came tearing after her like a crab, arms out, the same as after anybody.
Stay at the fence and wait to be asked
Priya stayed exactly where she was. Both hands back on the rope. The game went on without her. Teddy ran past. Then the red sweater. Then Teddy again. Neither of them looked over. Not once.
The lunch lady came along the fence with her cones. Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. Three more, right by Priya’s feet, and she didn’t even look up. Out in the yard the chase swerved, doubled back and swerved again, the way it had all recess.
The whistle blew before anybody in the game said a single word to her. Teddy shouted that the red sweater had made home. He hadn’t! He was one whole stride short of the drainpipe, and Priya was the only person in the entire yard who knew it. She didn’t say so.
In the last few seconds, Priya unhooked her rope and jumped along the wall by herself. Whip, whip, whip. On the third try she got the double-turn. “Do that again,” said the girl with two buns, stopping on her way in. “I can’t do that one.”
Ask if she can play
“Can I play?” Priya called. Loud. Loud enough to carry right across the blacktop. Teddy stopped running and stared at her, both feet planted. Hmm. There was no rule for what to do when somebody asked.
“We’re already three,” said Teddy. That wasn’t a no. Not exactly. He looked at the other two. They shrugged, the kind of shrug that means you decide. “Fine,” he said. “But you’re It first. Because you’re new.”
Being It first was hard. Really hard. You had to catch someone before you could be safe, and the red sweater reached the drainpipe laughing while Priya was still miles away. But the whole time, Teddy kept yelling, “Line’s there! Home’s the pipe!” So at least she knew where everything was.
By the whistle, Priya had made the yellow line twice and been caught once, puffing and pink from being It the whole first round. “You’re terrible at catching,” said the boy in the red sweater, cheerfully, already heading for the doors. “Playing tomorrow?”