"You can't catch me!" Amelia shouted as she darted away, knowing by this point, the other kids had grown tired, and some had quit. She was much faster than Toris, and she believed firmly that she'd get away, and that somehow when they were called in from recess, she'd be the winner.
Whether there was a winner in tag or not could probably be highly debated, but Amelia didn't care about how the argument would be favored, she just wanted to count herself the winner. Jumping over the see-saws, bouncing almost unsteadily on her over excited toes, swinging past the jungle gym with a well placed hand and a quick turn, nearly running into the slide; it was all in good fun. Amelia just knew that she wouldn't be caught, because surely, she was the only one on the playground that could run like this.
Amelia didn't pause to consider that the tortoise won against the hare by being smart, not by getting distracted or arrogant. She didn't even see Toris as he slid beneath the jungle gym, running full on beside the slide, didn't know that he was almost on her, until she felt a gentle pressure by her shoulder, "Tag, you're it." And then, Toris was off, quick as could be on his little legs, while Amelia stood there, dazed. How had he got her?
The seven year old spun around on the heels of her feet, and was off like a rocket. She had to catch him before the teachers called them in. She refused to lose as she watched his mainly straight path, mirroring it perfectly until he turned and circled around the other, forcing her into a skidding stop before she could dart after him, diagonal, the way that her mother had taught her to catch people when they were running away in tag. It's how her mother always caught her father anyway. He may be decently quick on his feet, but her mother was faster. Besides, her dad always went after Amelia in tag; it wasn't quite fair. They were older and had longer legs then her, though her mother told her that her dad's legs were not much longer than hers.
Amelia didn't stumble or stagger as she poured on the speed, ignoring how fast her heart was racing and how breathless she was beginning to feel from running, and just barely had she caught Toris, tagging him with a half-panting, "Tag, you're it." She barely even ran when he caught her that time. She was exhausted. How fast could he run?
Then the teacher called them in, and Amelia followed Toris without fail, trudging behind like a little duckling, before an excited gleam hit her blue eyes, and she whispered, hand on his back, "Tag, you're it." They had to face ahead, but she wondered if he'd tag her back anyway.
When his hand found hers and he tagged her back, without even a whisper, so that they wouldn't get in trouble by the teacher, she couldn't tag him back. His fingers had curled around hers, and the idea of using her other hand didn't even cross her mind. There was something special about fingers warm in hers anyway, and she kind of liked this, though she was positive that this wasn't the correct way to end tag, unless you're like her mother and father after a long day, then they merely held hands.
Amelia smiled, because wasn't this a sign of how close they were? She and Toris, best friends, close enough to hold hands in line, even if it likely made his arm ache just a little bit. Amelia was happy.