Chet E 5 Ca

Jason and I

We had recently been dismissed from school and we had just started explaining the rules to our game “boys chase girls, girls chase boys” a very common game among us second graders.

            “Okay,” my best friend Jason said in a leader like way “boys chase girls first!” All the girls ran like a cop to a doughnut factory in the public P.S.87 yard. The boys whose jobs were to chase after the girls did, while the boys, whose jobs were to hide, hid. (The boys like to win.)

            After an about three hour chase with hurting legs, twisted ankles, and scraped knees It was hard to breathe. I felt like wanting to inhale my chap stick to grease up my lungs. After all those hours we caught all the girls except Grace. Grace was very agile, so she saved two girls. The sun was slowly going down, my vision became less clear.

            Every one left but Jason, the girls, and me, it was 6:00 the time of the big kids (the older kids always came in and reached havoc on all the smaller kids). A sixth grader with a buzz cut, coffee brown skin, and very round walked in. The taste of trouble in filled the air. His eyes watched the playground. His eyes like a tiger finding prey. His tiger eye looks on the main course, us.

            “Leave them alone!” He bellowed eager to be a hero. To save someone, not make chaos.

“Okay, we were just playing a game, fatty!” Jason wined. The sixth grader ordered his gang to chase after us. My heart jumps. I look at Jason. He smiles, and then I was reassured.
            “I ain’t fat are I?” He asked the right hand man while sucking in his gut.

            “Well boss-“the sixth grader hit him on the head for giving the wrong answer. The right hand man rubbed his head. I was laughing at that point they could be in a sitcom. I was I thought it was fun, the chase because his gang was nerdy and slow.

            The sixth graders right hand man had dirty blonde hair and he was tall and skinny and had snow cone from a Mr. Softies truck drip from his face (real intimidating). His boss tapped his shoulder and whispered in the right hand mans ear. He ran at me like a five-year-old finding presents under a Christmas tree. I wasn’t prepared so he got me. He held me, and then pushed me into his boss who grabbed me by the neck. I could not breathe, his B.O overwhelmed my nose. It smelled like garbage that dogs pooped in, and a skunk spayed puke, all that in his armpit. Eww!

            “Hey idiot boy! I got the Simpson kid!” he yelled in a nasty voice. I tossed and turned. My heart started to burn with anger. I hated that name. Jason shot at him with anger, then jumped up and kicked him in the stomach. He fell with no sound trying to act cool. His face was telling otherwise.

            “The Simpson kid!” Jason teased.

            “Shut up, idiot boy!” I said in a joke like way. We kept running. The right hand man ran after us. This time knowing his ability we split up. He swatted at Jason, but missed. He then punched and kicked like an elephant that saw a mouse. He captured Jason. At first I was too scared to get Jason back, but I remembered what he did for me. I spotted a bruise on his shin (I saw him get it while missing a kick to Jason) I kicked him in that spot. He let go of Jason and charged after me. Jason grabbed his leg and the big sixth grader fell giving me time to hide.

            “Come out or I’ll hurt you!” he bellowed angrily. When he bent down to find me Jason jumped on his back. He falls, we run to my dad.

            “Can we go?” we ask my dad who was sitting there and reading a book.

            “Sure” he replies getting up from his book.

            “I’ll get you later! And we’ll be back.” the right hand man said as we departed. It was a total bluff, I thought, but really I was scared, I swallowed a chunk of spit that wouldn’t go down, but Jason was by my side.