"Recess" A New Flash Fiction Story by Me

 

Recess 

by Tamworth Grice 

“I think they’re trying to poison me,” Joe said. 

“Who,” Matt asked. 

“Somebody. The parents. Somebody.” Joe looked across the playground and sighed. “I don’t know.” 

He stood up from where they were sitting on the end of the bike rack. The rack was filled with boys’ and girls’ bicycles, mostly Schwinns, mostly in good shape. Here in there was one with rust, or a bent basket, or missing fenders. 

But Joe and Matt were in sixth grade and had stopped riding bikes two years ago. 

Matt stood up, too. He had glasses and freckles. He was “husky”—a polite word for a child who overweight. Sometimes the other boys called him “Porky,” but never when Joe was around. 

Joe was tall and slim. 

Joe looked out at the playground and began walking. 

Matt hesitated, then hurried to catch up, sneakers crunching on the gravel. “Why would your parents want to hurt you?” 

“I don’t know. Forget I said it.” 

At the far end of the playground, in the grass beside the chain-link fence, a group of boys was gathered. Some were standing, some were squatting. All were looking down. 

“Let’s see what they’re doing,” Joe said. 

“Okay.” Matt paused. “But think about it.” He held up his hand to shade his eyes from the noonday sun and gazed at the boys by the fence. “It makes no sense. Why would you even say that?” 

“Because my stomach hurts. All the time. Especially after dinner. Maybe they’re putting something in my food.” He turned his head to look at some girls and boys on the swing sets. “I said I don’t want to talk about it, moron.” 

Matt cringed. 

 Joe sped up his pace. Matt, with shorter legs, walked faster. 

Noticing this, Joe slowed a bit. “Do—do you parents ever fight?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Matt grinned and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “One morning Mom said ‘You put on the coffee,’ and Dad said, ‘No, you put on the coffee,’ and Mom said, “No, you put on the coffee.’ And finally Mom put on the coffee.” 

Joe frowned. “I mean like hitting and shouting and stuff.” 

Matt said, “No,” shaking his head. “Why? Do yours?” 

“No. ’Course not. I just saw it on TV.” 

They were silent until they reached the cluster of boys. On the other side of the fence was a neat row of white houses. The structures all looked alike, except some were mirror images of the others. All had black driveways and garages at the back. 

Joe and Matt craned their necks to see what the boys were watching. 

A praying mantis perched on a small flat stone in the grass, chewing a cricket it had captured. The cricket was still alive and struggled, but the mantis held it firmly. The boys were hushed, staring at it, but Matt broke the silence and whispered, “Cool.” 

The insect turned its wedged-shaped head to look up at him, then went back to devouring its prey. 

Matt pushed his glasses up on his nose again. 

 Joe moved aside and raised his head to look at the houses beyond the fence. He stepped away from the crowd. 

Matt stepped away with him. 

Joe pointed. “Sherry Blake lives there.” 

 Matt nodded. “My sister takes piano lessons from her mother.” 

One of the boys turned and scowled and said, “Shhh.” 

Joe grimaced and turned his back on the boys. Matt did the same. They both stared at the brick school building beyond the swing sets and the bike racks and the children playing tag and hopscotch and jump rope. 

“I’m sorry I called you a moron.” 

 “It’s nothing. Forget about it.” 

 The bell rang to end recess. Joe looked behind him. 

The boys still huddled around the praying mantis didn’t budge, as if oblivious to the sound. 

“Let’s head back.” Joe walked slowly this time, head down, and Matt trudged at his side. 

Everyone but the boys around the mantis was already inside when they reached the rear entrance. 

 Joe stopped and moved his hand to his abdomen. He bent forward a bit and winced. 

Matt peered into his face curiously but without speaking. 

“My stomach hurts,” Joe said, not looking at Matt. He straightened, moved his hand from his stomach, and pressed his palm on the bar that opened the school door. 

He muttered under his breath. “I feel awful.”

--end--