My Fic (on Tumblr)
I’m twelve years old and two boys in my class have broken arms. I sign both their casts on different days and wonder if the ace bandage I have at home will be long enough to make my own cast. It isn’t, I learn, so I throw it in the laundry.
A week later, two more boys at my school have broken limbs, one a wrist and the other a leg. They have casts too. I don’t sign there’s. But I’m angry now as I look at my cast free body. It’s not fair.
So I devise a plan to get what they have. I tell one of my friends what I’m thinking and all he says is, “It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”
“I know,” I say. “But I want one so badly.”
He only shrugs and eats his lunch while I scope out the playground and try to figure out the best way to jump off something the wrong way. In between bites my friend offers suggestions: the monkey bars or the jungle gym, even the top of the slide if I angle myself just right.
I try them all within the next week. Nothing works. I get bruised and bloody, but never broken. And more boys come to school with cast, making me angrier every day. Eventually I step up my game and jump off parked cars and roofs. Still nothing ever breaks.
So one day, I just give up. Cause even if I don’t have a cast for someone to sign, I’ve got battle wounds that’ll become scars. And someone once told me that every scar has a story and every story is worth telling so long as you find the right audience.
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