The slide

It was an unusually warm Spring Friday. I was just finishing up my reading workbook
when the recess bell rang. Everyone piled out of the classroom toward the playground.
The scent of green grass growing on rich, dark soil tickled our noses with that pungent,
country smell. I usually played on the merry-go-round, or on the big dirt pile behind the
swings, but today I wanted to go on the slide.

I don't know why I had the sudden urge to play on the slide. Usually the line for the
slide was way too long for the small amount of pleasure it brought. The moment when
you got done counting the thirty-two steps to the top. The moment when you stood on
the top rung, feeling like a queen looking down at her kingdom. Then, the quick inhale
of breath as you sat down awaiting the feeling of falling, breeze in your face, gaining
momentum down the silver chute, like a bullet being discharged from a gun. You were
sucked downward, your body slicing through the air at a hundred miles an hour.

There wasn't time to think about anything, it was just a few seconds of sheer
excitement, with the wind rushing through your hair. Then, as abruptly as it started, you
were at the bottom. Snapped back to reality. Just like that the ride was over.

Usually the slide had a line of about thirty to fifty kids. This meant about a five
minute wait time for one short, but fun slide. In playground time, that was an eternity!
The pleasure did not outweight the wait time, so the slide was never an option for me.

But, this one day it was just pulling me toward it, like a huge magnet whose force I
could neither ignore, nor escape. There I was, waiting for my turn, so many kids ahead
of me waiting for their turn also. The line for the slide was always eerily quiet. Like
everyone was transfixed on the slow drum-like rhythm of bodies moving closer to the top.
Step...wait...step, step...wait...step. One spoken word would mess up the entire beat, and
the line would erupt into chaos. So, we just stayed quiet, eyes fixed straight ahead, feet
moving with the constant flow of motion.

I was making headway through the line. I caught a glimpse of the ladder! I counted the kids
in front of me, one, two, three four. In no time I was going to begin my journey to the top! I
had just gotten to the ladder part, my hands felt the cool metal as my foot stepped on the first
rung. Yes! Not too much longer now! I was concentrating on the ride down. My second foot
had just barely grazed the next step when, from out of nowhere, some dark haired, short kid
pushed in front of me. He pushed me so hard that I let go of the ladder with one hand. He looked
at me with a sneer as if to say "watch out, I'm cutting you, and there's nothing you can do about it!

For a moment I just stood there in shock. I couldn't believe the injustice that was taking place
before me! I was the victim in a horrible, line-cutting mess! I spoke up and said "hey, what the heck?
You can't just cut in front of me like that!" and he said "Oh yeah? Well I just did, whatcha gonna do about it?"
Then he climbed the rest of the rungs to the top and just disappeared down the chute.

I felt violated. How dare he just cut in front of me like that! After I waited for at least five minutes!
The nerve! And then reality began to set in. What WAS I going to do about it? Punch him? Tattle on him?
Trip him the next time I saw him walking by? No, no, and no. I wasn't going to do any of those things. The
fact of the matter was, I was going to do absolutely nothing. He won, just like that, no fight, no argument, he
just won.

The ride was over for me right then and there. I completed my climb to the top and pushed off. I slid down,
deflated, not even wanting to be on it anymore. It felt like the longest ride of my life, and I wasn't enjoying one
single minute of it. One kid took away my pleasure like that, with the snap of a finger. I was never going on that
slide again, and that was final!

At the time I was more mad at myself for not saying something to him. For not doing something to him. He
got away with it. I lost, he won. I remember feeling angry the whole rest of the day. I was angry at myself. This
was who I was. Someone who was going to be pushed around and actually take it. I was the one who was never
going to stand up for myself, and that realization made me more angry at me than anything. I couldn't wait for recess
to end. I just paced back and forth, looking at the ground, waiting for the bell to ring, not wanting anyone to look at me.
Not wanting them to peer into my eyes and see the truth. The girl who would not stand up for herself. When it finally
rang, I ran to class so fast I got a dizzy feeling behind my eyes. I grabbed my books and held my breath waiting for the
dismissal bell.

At dismissal, I walked soundlessly down the hall, not looking at anyone. I made it to the bus, climbed the huge steps
and slunk down in the first empty seat I could find. I didn't talk to anyone the whole ride home. I don't know why I was so
angry, I just was, and there was no one I wanted to see or talk to that could make me feel better. I don't remember much
about the rest of that day, but the thing I'll never forget happened a few weeks later.

It was a Saturday morning, and my mom was drinking coffee while she read the paper. I was sitting, playing with my
cereal. I saw my mom look at the newspaper and then pull it closer, I guess so she could get a better look at whatever
she was reading. She turned to me and said "Michelle, do you know this boy? It says here he attended Scott Township
Elementary School." She handed me the paper, and when I glanced at the picture, I couldn't believe my eyes! There, right
in front of me was the boy who so brazenly pushed ahead of me on the slide at recess! I said "yeah, I know him, why?" and
then my mom said "Well, it looks like he had leukemia, and he died yesterday." WHAT!? I couldn't believe my ears! This
couldn't be happening! How could he have died? I JUST saw him not that long ago!

I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach. I pushed away from the table and ran upstairs to my room. I fell face first onto
my bed and just laid there, lost in my own thoughts. Is that why he cut in front of me? Because he knew he was dying and didn't
have time to wait in that long line? Maybe if I didn't get so angry at myself for letting him cut me he would still be alive. For the next
few weeks I didn't want to go to school. What if I left for school in the morning and my mom died while I was gone? What if I cut in
front of someone and then I died? I don't think my family realized the profound effect this boys death had on me. It consumed me.
It was all I thought about. What does death feel like? I wonder if I'll die soon? I would walk down the hallway and just stare into the
faces of kids and teachers, wondering if they were going to be next to die.

It took a long time for me to stop obsessing about death. I kept thinking about that day on the playground when I thought I'd lost and he'd
won. What a horrible thing to think! I had my whole life in front of me. Ironic, isn't it? Looking back at the whole situation I see he didn't win.
He didn't even come close.