There was a boy. Young, carefree, innocent, and pure. He had reached the age of six only a month before and found himself an entire world of opportunity. He had loving, devouted parents, giving him an idyllic and glorious childhood, with a strong sense of moral right. He had friends at school who admired his everyday delightful company. His first grade teacher, a hapy old white-haird, puffy-cheeked woman told his parents that he was like a breath of fresh air when he would enter her classroom. Intelligent, good-mannered, good-hearted and loved by all; this was a little boy who had a life many dreamed of having. No violence, no thoughts of anger or sadness pressed at him. He was free to grow, free to be a child, free to feel loved and good. What a wonderful child.
This little boy, one Saturday at a picnic with his family, ran to a quiet part of the park with a swing on a tree. He wasn't far from his parents, so he joyed at the pleasure of jumping on a swing and began to fly. With echos of giggles, the boy climbed as high as he could. His legs fell in when he fell; when he flew out, his legs pulled his weight up and up. The sun's light was filtered through the thick green maple leaves. There was a dance of bright and dims fluttering across his face, so happy.
A little girl walked towards the swinging boy. She looked about the same age as the boy, only a little taller. She had a flower in her soft, blonde hair and a beautiful baby face. Her curiousity perked when she saw him flying so high on the swing. Her family was having a picnic too, and she heard the loud giggling, which brought her to the boy. She stopped right in the path of the boy's flight. He stomped his feet on the ground, puffs of dust smoking all around. The boy didn't want to hurt the girl, so he tried hard to stop and just barely missed as she took a step back, out of his way. The boy finally came to a stop.
"Hey! What did you get in my way for?!"
She stared at him, smiling, "Can I use the swing now?"
He stared at her confused. He was on the swing first. The unwritten playground rules state that she would have to wait until he was good and ready to get off. "It's not your turn yet," the boy said, "You'll have to wait."
"I want to use the swing now, please?" the girl said, smiling. The boy began to feel uneasy, but she had said please and he wanted to be nice to her. He really couldn't, though, tell if the girl was smiling because she was happy or if she was being mean. So he sat for a moment, staring at her and trying to figure her out. His swing hung down because of his weight, but his feet on the ground pushed the swing back and forth. He really wanted to make a new friend, because he thought that everyone wanted to be his friend. Most importantly, he wanted to be friends with her because she looked so pretty. He wanted to hold her hand for a while like he does for all the pretty girls in his class.
The boy sat up straight and replied, "I have an idea. I still want to use the swing for a little while longer. If you wait here, when I'm done, I'll push you on the swing and we can play together." The boy waited, expecting her to say yes.
"No! I want to use the swing now! I don't want to wait!"
The boy became confused, "Why?"
"Because I want to," she said.
"But, I'm almost done...."
"No. I want to use the swing right now!" She stared at him, but she was still smiling as if nothing was wrong. The boy couldn't understand. She was smiling, but she didn't seem very happy. The little girl sounded angry and he didn't want her to be angry. He wanted to hold her hand and everybody should be happy.
Suddenly, the little girl walked up to the boy and pushed him really hard off the swing. As the little girl was getting on the swing, the boy hit the ground on his behind and didn't really realized what had happened at first. He stayed on the ground for a moment, to try to put the pieces all together. He got up and realized that a girl had pushed him off the swing. When he turned to argue with her, he decided that he really didn't want to play on the swing anymore or with her. The little girl, just sat on the swing but she wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, her eyebrows pointed downward towards her nose. Her mouth frowned. Her arms crossed. She looked at the boy with envy, "I hate you."
She got off the swing and walked back to her picnic. Her father was cursing for her to return. The boy couldn't understand, she didn't even use the swing. He never realized how mean people could be, but found no reason for her to be so angry at him. What did he do? What did he say? It doesn't matter anymore, because his mother was calling for her son to join his family for lunch.
