Serious Play
The bench seat's metal lattice support did anything but support Sara's little bum. She was sitting on a particularly poorly painted part of the bench, and paint bubbles brought about by sloppy, uncaring craftsmen (or more probably, bored community volunteers) could be felt beneath the thin cotton material of her pajama pants. If she'd have worn jeans like her mother had instructed her to, perhaps she would be a bit more comfortable, but she wasn't going to complain. She'd picked the outfit herself, and her fashion choice was based solely on the fact that she wanted to look down at any point during the day and see her favorite cartoon character's face smiling his crooked, buck-toothed smile back up at her.
But Sara wasn't focusing on the unpleasant numbness of her gluteus maximus or the cheer her pants brought her. Her brow was scrunched. Her lips were pursed. Her eyes were squinted in complete focus as if on the defensive in a game of chess against a player far better than herself. Her gaze, unblinking, never shifted, transfixed on one specific part of the playground: the sandbox.
Sara watched as her sister tossed a handful of sand at one of their friends, their neighbor, a little girl a year younger than them named Christina. Tegan's aim proved faithful and the flying sandy wad hit an unsuspecting Christina square in the back of the head.
More from shock than force, the sitting girl let the momentum of the older girl's ammunition transfer into her body. She fell forward, face-first into the small sand castle she'd spent the last forty-five seconds constructing. She stood up, flabbergasted. Her master piece was splayed and streaked across the front of her pink T-Shirt.
Angry tears welled up in her eyes. Feverishly, she spun around to face the laughing brunette behind her. "You'll pay for this, Tegan!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Tiny, sandaled feet were kick started into action, and the smaller girl launched herself at her tormentor. Tegan sped off in the opposite direction. Christina chased her for a solid three minutes. They'd lapped the sand box four times and even made a go around the swing set and the monkey bars before the younger girl ran out of breath. She slowed her pace and eventually came to a complete stop. She panted and rested against the swings' pole for support. Her regained breath she used for shouting instead of chasing. "That's not fair, Tegan! You're faster than me!"
The small girl pouted, but Tegan paid no mind to her. She raced around the tetherball pole and dodged behind it. "Nanananabooboo, you can't catch me!"
One last shrill cry escaped from the blonde's lips, "Tegan!" She fumed, defeated and exhausted and sat. She let her anger consume her and plotted the perfect revenge. Should she not let Tegan play with her toys anymore? Or maybe she should threaten to stop being her friend all together. That would make her really upset.
As it seemed Christina lost interest in their game, Tegan realized that maybe she had taken it too far. The other girl had a scowl on her face and looked like she was about to cry. Tegan felt guilty for making her friend so upset. She walked towards where Christina was sitting and offered her words of comfort. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Christina crossed her arms over her chest and twisted her body so that she was no longer facing Tegan.
Tegan sat down next to her and tried to apologize again. "I'm sorr-"
Next thing Tegan knew, Christina had lunged at her, pinned her to the ground, and started them both rolling down the park's steepest hill. Tegan screamed as she seemed to fall ten stories. After a matter of seconds, she was too dizzy from the spinning to tell if they were near the bottom or still close to the top. The hill might has well have been Mount Everest. They seemed to tumble forever, picking up speed as they went. After an eternity the slope became less steep and eventually evened out. Their moment ran out and their bodies finally stopped moving, but Tegan's world was still spinning. She felt sick.
Christina detached herself from the lethargic body next to her, sat up, and let out a hearty chuckle. "You fell for it! Haha!"
Tegan sat up too, slowly so as not to make herself any dizzier or queasier. Christina continued laughing, and Tegan tried to collect herself. The stars behind her eyelids disappeared as if the sun were starting to come up on the horizon. Her vision cleared up. Her world stopped spinning. Her stomach settled back into its place inside her torso. Only then did her brain pick up on what Christina had said and fully comprehend what it meant. Christina had just been pretending to be mad at her so that she could get revenge on her. The older girl was upset that she fell for it, but relieve that she hadn't really upset her friend. Plus, she had to give the blonde brownie points for being so clever.
Once Tegan had recovered from her vertigo and Christina had recovered from her laughing fit, the two girls stood up and began the treacherous climb back up the hill. By the time they reached the top of it, Tegan was as fatigued as Christina had been chasing her. She felt like it was a conquest, an achievement, like she should have a big backpack with supplies and a flag in it. She would stick the flagpole into the playground's bright green grass and fertile soil, claiming the hill's conquering in the name of the great country of Canada like the Americans did with the moon. Her name would be in all of the textbooks at school. She smiled and felt proud of herself.
They made their way back to the sandbox where this all began. They were friends turned enemies turned friends again, so it only seemed natural that they return to the last spot at which they had gotten along.
Christina had begun reconstructing her masterpiece, and Tegan plopped down next to her. She was too tired for art. A break was what she needed. She wasted time by righting her wrong. She bushed the sand off her neighbor's shoulders and tried to dust some of it out of her hair.
Sara had watched this whole scene from her spot on the electric-blue park bench. At first the situation had seemed like no big deal to her. There was nothing she could do to stop Tegan's antics, and Sara could even forgive her sister for momentarily adverting Christina's attention on to her. What unnerved Sara was the bond displayed between them by the end of it all. Tegan picked sand off of Christina like the monkeys in a nature special she'd seen picked bugs off of each other. Allowing such an intimate act between the two as unacceptable. Christina was her best friend.
Anger bubbled up inside of her like the brew in a witches cauldron. Her body tensed up. As the brew bubbled over, lukewarm liquid dripped onto Sara's right hand. She hadn't realized she'd been squeezing her half-full juice box, balled up in her right fist. The unpleasantness of the overly-sugared, apple-flavored drink against her skin caused Sara to drop the pint-sized container and its accompanied tiny, transparent bendy straw to the ground below. Good riddance with it. It made her hand sticky. She already had one problem on her hands. She didn't need another.
She bent down, wiped her soiled hand in the grass, and left her juice box to the ants. She marched to the sandbox with fervor, a soldier on a mission. She wasn't aggressive, but she made a point of walking directly between her sister and her friend, breaking Tegan's contact with Christina.
"Why don't we play house?" the younger twin suggested. She was here now. She wanted to take control of their play, therefore stealing Christina's attention.
The blonde put a dead leaf on top of her sand castle and pretended it was a seashell. In her imagination she was on the beach, building a magnificent castle that a washed ashore mermaid would one day find and li ve in.
"I like that idea," Tegan stated, blissfully unaware of how serious Sara was when it came to the game of cat and mouse that surrounded Christina.
As the architect, Christina's job was finished, and she didn't expect her mermaid to come so soon after construction. She had time for a game of house. "OK," she agreed. "I'm the mommy."
"I'll be the daddy," both twins said in unison.
They made glaring eyes at each other.
"But you always get to be the dad," Tegan protested.
Of course Sara was always the dad. Whoever claimed this role got to be married to Christina. Sara wouldn't let anyone else - someone less deserving of the young blonde's attention - play this part.
"I'm tired of being the dog," Tegan complained, arms akimbo.
"Then you can be the son," Sara compromised.
"But I want to be the dad!" Tegan whined.
Christina butted in, knowing that the twins were prone to fights and the matter was sure to escalate without a third party intervention. "Why don't you play Rock, Paper, Scissors? Winner gets to be Dad."
The game of chance was their only solution.
The twins stood face to face, as if looking in a mirror. Four arms rested at their sides, waiting for one of their owners to make a move.
It was a western shoot-out.
Sara was the good guy, approaching her ultimate goal: affection. Tegan was the bad guy dead set against her.
Tegan was the good guy, fighting for equality and fairness. Sara was the bad guy, her oppressor.
A tumble weed rolled by.
In a flash fists pounded against outstretched palms. In unison they chanted, "Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!" On 'Shoot' they picked their fates. Two hands shot forward. Two sets of two fingers shot out in an inverted 'V.' They'd both picked scissors. It was a tie.
Round two commenced. A bead of sweat formed on Sara's brow. They chanted the four magic words again. Their fists slammed into their palms in synchronization with their words. 'Shoot' was yelled and both were afraid and anxious to see the outcome.
Tegan picked rock.
Sara picked paper.
Relieved, Sara smiled and let her ego boost. She'd won the girl again.