Tic Tac Toe

We were running, eight of us in total, lost in an imaginary world fueled by the latest episode of Power Rangers. To anyone who watched we were just a pack of unruly kids sending clumsy kicks into the summer air. We, on the other hand, were saving the planet from the nefarious Dr. Ooze with our rudimentary martial arts skills.

With the battle won, the game ends and we slowly descend back into reality. Sweat seeps from our foreheads and our shirts double as rags. The air hangs thick. Breathing comes hard but it is accompanied by a sense of achievement. This is not our normal playground but I fail to remember why we chose to venture here for the day. It is small, probably meant for preschoolers, but it serves our purpose. My oldest brother rests at the top of a slide, his legs already more than halfway to the bottom. The equipment burns so my remaining brothers lie in the threadbare grass and stare up at a cloudless sky. My sister crawls into the tunnel out of the sun’s reach. She is the only one of us who can lay in there without arms or legs hanging out of either end. My cousin and I, separated only by six months, decide to play a game of tic tac toe. We spin the tiles into place, play a short game of rock, paper, scissors for the right to be X, and begin playing.

Games fly by, we are not keeping track of total wins. Our laughter and the occasional car driving by are the only sounds to be heard. Roger, the son of my dad’s new wife, leaves his resting place and joins us. “I want to play,” he demands.

“You can’t, it’s a two player game. You can play winner.” I explain quickly and turn my attention back to the game.

At the time it seemed like the fair thing to do. I mean isn’t that how things work? Everyone has to wait their turn; even at the arcade we set a quarter on the game to reserve next round for ourselves. Then it happened, I didn’t even have time to take my next turn. I caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye and then a pain that snapped my head to the side. Warmth spread along my jaw and up to my lip. Anger rose, hands balled tightly into fists, tears were subdued, and my tongue began swimming in a pool of warmth. Pushing past my cousin, I run down the steps, and release the foul red liquid from my mouth. The initial pain is gone and a dull pulsing has taken its place. With no first aid kit my only choice is to return home. I leave to the sounds of boys arguing and one sister crying. Careful not to stain my clothes, I leave a trail of russet droplets on the white sidewalk behind me.