It was a great day to play outside. The sun was shining, the clouds were present, it wasn’t humid and it wasn’t too hot. Mike didn’t feel like playing a board game like he always did. There is a certain kind of boredom associated with doing the same activity, over and over again. This particular boredom did not afflict Mike. When others would squirm and fidget under the pressure of staying still, Mike would sit still, staring off into space and wondering what his life could have become. This oddity in his behavior, this anomaly in his mind, was embraced by Mike. He knew that this would be a single solace in a hard time to come, when he would have to endure the monotony of a 9-5 white collar job. Was Mike a regular 3rd grader? No. But today he wanted to play outside.

The sun glared upon his eyes and body, blinding him since he was not being used to outside. Staying inside the school the entire day had weakened him and as he walked only a couple steps, Mike immediately regret his decision. But he squinted his eyes and peered over the hazy fog of bugs covering the grass, for today, he would be more outgoing and play outside. He saw a group of boys shouting and screaming over a game of basketball, jostling each other with the ball and jumping to heights that Mike didn’t know was possible. But this wouldn’t interest him; it looked too hard.

Deciding to finally uproot himself from the doorway, Mike walked along the brown wall, cracked and abused over the years of harsh weather and lack of care. Wandering around with an acute lack of direction, Mike glanced upon the burnt playground. It was surrounded by the stereotypical yellow police tape, and the ashes and remains rested upon the ground. It had been here for weeks now but he still hadn’t come to see it, but all his friends had. It was an odd feeling looking at it. When it was still up, it was the sole motivation in forcing Mike out of the building and into the sun, it was a fun place to be. To see it abandoned and decimated induced an odd feeling in Mike, beginning in his stomach and expanding to his chest. Was it pain from losing a precious memento or a childish inability to deal with loss? Mark didn’t know and didn’t like it and walked towards the field.

They were playing soccer on the field. Mark didn’t mind this game though, it was quite fun. He would even watch it at home sometimes with his parents. He walked even closer to the field when he heard them shouting. Why? It was outlandish to him, to see a group of tiny third graders involve themselves in a heated argument, jabbing their fingers towards their peers’ chests and muttering profanities. Curious now, he moved closer, wanting to know what overcame these normally peaceful children. It seemed to be focused upon Jordan, an athletic, handsome boy who usually held the adoration of his friends and admirers in the palm of his hands. But today, now, he seemed to be afraid. His eyes darted back and forth from person to person, unable to hold their furious expressions in his sight more than a second. Holding the ball, putting it down, picking it back up, he took all the abuse and stood there, lame like a dog. Even now, Mike walked, ever more slowly, but deliberately, not wanting to disturb the curious sight before him.

It seems that Jordan seemed to have made a grave mistake. Instead of passing the ball to an open teammate and then creating a goal, instead kept it and unsuccessfully attempting a solo goal. It was a grand attempt alright, supposedly. He pivoted around an unsuspecting defender, pushing the ball through his open legs and continuing from there, but then stumbled, unable to keep up with his own vigorous pace. All of this culminating into a loss for the team, Jordan faced the repercussions of his ambition and greed. With the sun beating down on their necks, Jordan began to walk away from the mob. They followed him, and continued to hurl verbal abuse.

Mike began to wonder, why didn’t the teacher do anything? She stood there, watching gravely, listening to the words that could scar a man for life, yet she did nothing. Nodding for one second, shaking another, she seemed to have a moral dilemma. To intervene or to not intervene? Jordan looked at her pitifully. It was clear to see that the scruffy old teacher with a jacket on during the summer would not help. She looked back at him with her serious eyes, but they offered no respite to his troubles.

So Jordan began to run. He ran as far as he could, thinking that his enemies, once friends (weren’t they?) would see his sheer desperation and remorse and let him reflect upon his mistakes. But they didn’t, they followed him, hunting him down, making sure to scream at him during all of this. Mike slowly walked towards the way they ran, wanting to keep himself informed of what was happening. His romantic idea of playing soccer with his friends were shattered but they were now filled with a more interesting debacle.

Then all of a sudden, they stopped. Mike didn’t know why, so he inched closer. The mob slowly dispersed and Jordan was left lying on the ground. He had come to be on the home plate of the baseball field, laying in a fetal position. Mike walked closer and closer, now ignoring the heated whispers and conversations between the assailants. They had no remorse for their crime, they simply left and continued their game of soccer, wanting to have a rematch.

Mike finally came upon Jordan, looking upon him plainly, without anyone near. He breathed haggardly, unable to catch his breath. Jordan looked up to Mike, looking to see a final chance of forgiveness, not knowing that Mike had not even played. Instead, Jordan dropped his face, unable to keep it up any longer. His breathing did not become normal, instead it became worse and worse. Making noises akin to a pig being taken away, Jordan struggled to find the basic ability to breath. Mike, finally knowing how this event had ended, walked away and joined the others playing soccer.