Bullying
Ralph looked away from me to another guy.
"What do you think, Scott—a seven?"
Scott looked me up and down.
"Seven? Maybe."
"Maybe on a good day," said another guy.
"A really good day? Like last Friday?" Ralph replied.
They were all laughing again.
"You guys are pigs," I said.
The girl was still there, on a swing, pumping hard, so high the chain slackened before letting her down. Then suddenly she stopped, digging her bare feet into the sand. She kicked herself in circles, tightening the chain until it wouldn't turn anymore. Then for a second she stared across the night between them, right at Zoe, until she let go, spinning into a dark fast blur.
The third scroll was dropped onto her binder as she rushed between classes at mid-morning break. The halls were crowded, she hadn't seen anyone of note beside her—the scroll hadn't been there, then suddenly it was...To her left, she spotted an open maintenance closet, full of cleaning solutions and wet mops. Stepping in, she closed the door and fumbled for the light switch. Frantically she tore at the ribbon and the wax seal, not caring if the paper ripped...
As her eyes reluctantly returned to the black message scrawled across the page, the light bulb's electric after-image danced across her retinas, confusing her vision, but the third scroll's contents had already been seared deep into her memory.
Congratulations! You are this year's lottery winner.
I can't resist tossing a few simple tricks—rock the baby, elevator, tidal wave. My hands whir, my arms loosen up. I've only practiced at home, but this feels pretty fine. I take up more of the sidewalk. People weave around me, staying clear of the yo-yo as it extends and then glides back. There's only me and the yo-yo working with the noise and confusion of the street corner.
