You’re It

There’s nothing like a crisp spring breeze to wash away the shards of a broken heart. As a kid, my feelings were expressed with a much poorer choice of words.

“Well, this stinks!” I exclaimed to my friends, small in both population and stature.

“I think you tagged her too much” my friend submitted. We called him Wolfy for short. Fat chance we’d take the time to spew out that practical joke his parents called a name.

I briefly contemplated this accusation but soon cast it aside as implausible. I knew I timed my tags expertly. I tagged her once halfway through first recess, twice consecutively at lunch, and once just before the last bell: a well-executed farewell in my book.

“Nah,” I stated, while my mind re-wound its “What went wrong?” soundtrack. I peeked my head out from our tire headquarters: my true love stood too close yet so far. Her chestnut hair bounced softly in the light wind. I dared a feat I never thought possible, forcing myself to pull my gaze away from her heavenly being, where my eyes fell upon what pained me most. Lucas, a fourth grader best described as a young Edward Cullen (annoyingly handsome with more secrets then I could count, which is at least twenty). My face fell in horror realizing that he did not tag her. Not once. He simply stood there talking for what seemed like minutes, an achievement unimaginable for most. Unfortunately, this was not the case for Lucas. He stood there cockily with a sickening smirk on his face. Eleanor stared back at him. It was obvious they were in like. I knew there was nothing I could do about it. My dear Eleanor had deserted me. There was no way I could go on looking at her without feeling what was left of my heart ache. I knew I would never ever think about liking someone again.
I turned away to face the opposite side of the playground. My watering eyes fell upon the swings, but more importantly what sat in one of them. There swung a girl, more beautiful than the night sky, and far brighter than the stars that illuminate it. There’s no doubt I would’ve traded in all my crayons to be hers for even a second. I ran toward her, arms outstretched, stopping just beyond the back-and-forth of her trajectory. She slowed her swing and looked up at me, freeze-tagging me with her eyes. Luckily, the freeze wore off. I swiftly threw out my hand, tapping her on the shoulder.

“You’re it.”