“I hate you!”
“I hate you more, so there!”
“No you don’t! Liar!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
The tiny girl swung a fist at the offending toddler, smacking him in the nose with all the strength her five year old arm could muster. He howled in pain, falling to the ground sobbing. Alerted by the cries, two playground supervisors came running, grabbing hold of her before she could inflict more damage.
“Amy! What’s the matter with you? You know we don’t hit!” one scolded, trying to hide her surprise at the anger radiating from the normally calm child.
“He started it!” she yelled, struggling to free herself and smack him again.
“I did not! You wouldn’t share!”
“You grabbed it! There’s no grabbing allowed!”
“Did not!”
Despite the adults’ efforts, neither child could be reconciled. Ten minutes after their first meeting, it was clear there would be no friendship between the two.
At the end of that first day, after several near riots, hair pulling, pinching, and general playground warfare, it was time for the parents to meet each other.
Mrs. Hochberg arrived, as was her habit, in style; complete with limo and chauffeur.
The McNeils on the other hand, somehow managed on foot from their home a street away.
After a minute of mindless chatter, in which excuses were made, they reached the heart of the matter.
“I understand she’s only five, of course, but perhaps your Amy could be a little more … willing to share.” Mrs. Hochberg began, not unkindly, to the other mother. The woman shook her head, baffled.
“Amy’s usually fine with that. I don’t know what got into her. She’s never been in a fight before.”
“Finn does have a bit of a temper, I admit, but it’s normal. We adopted him, you see. He’s our little miracle child. We tried so hard to have some our own, but sadly it didn’t work out. So you see we do try to indulge him when he wants something.”
Mrs. McNeil blinked in confusion, trying to reconcile the contradictory and irrelevant statement.
“I see. I guess … he came from a troubled family?”
“Oh I don’t know about that. We never met them. He came to us when he was six months old. In any case, as I was saying, your daughter could be a better sharer. Please, talk to her. We don’t want this happening again.” She gave a faint, mirthless chuckle, seemingly unaware of the incredulity in the other’s stare.
Triumphant, Finn stuck his tongue out at his rival from behind his mother’s back. In the split second it took for the parents to react, she’d smacked him again, prompting a fresh outburst. After that, civil conversations were thrown out of the window and both parties left a few minutes later deeply offended and never to speak again.
Things did not improve as the years passed, not until the enemies reached high school. It was easier to ignore each other amidst the endless drama and mountains of homework. For a while, things went smoothly. Until a few months into the summer holiday.
It was a glorious Saturday afternoon. The usual pack of wannabe delinquents lazed about the pool, only occasionally dipping in a toe. They were the offspring of the town’s richest families and therefore too cool to actually swim. Especially not in something as dirty as a public pool. They all had their own at home, but they were rebels. They couldn’t be seen actually indulging in their parent’s wealth. Besides, there was little opportunity to show off or make trouble with butlers watching your every move.
Finn lay on his back, head resting on his girlfriend’s lap, smirking at some rude comment made by his friends. He was their leader, the plan-maker and party-planner. Even at the pool he liked to maintain appearances. Sunglasses, white t-shirt, and of course not a hair on his head out of place. His parents were by far the wealthiest of all. It helped to raise his status in the group. Someday, he would take over his adoptive father’s business, and they would all work for him. Every boy there knew it.
Amy spotted them the instant she set foot outside out of the changing rooms. She groaned inwardly and almost turned around. Taken individually they were ok kids. Some, like Finn himself, could even manage to be pretty sweet at times. He’d improved somewhat since pre-school.
As soon as the pack formed though, they became a nightmare. Kids had been known to voluntarily stay behind after school just to avoid having to deal with the spoiled brats. She was not, however, frightened enough to let them ruin her afternoon. With a bit of luck, they’d stay on their side and not notice her.
It worked for about ten minutes, until they got bored with harassing the life-guard and started searching for new victims. Almost instantly there was a shout from one of the boys, and the pack, surged toward her.
Amy raced for the exit, not caring about leaving half of her things behind. Unfortunately the crowd was thick that day, slowing her progress considerably. Within minutes of getting outside they had her surrounded.
All became a blur of teasing, shouting boys.
“Aw, lookie, boys, little Amy’s trying to fight back.” One snickered.
“Yeah, trying.”
“No, no, she’s a real little tigress, ain’t she.”
They laughed stupidly, pushing each other around as much as they did her. She fought back desperately, snarling in frustration as they evaded her blows. A particularly hard shove sent her tumbling to the ground.
Amy let out a cry of pain as her head smacked hard against the concrete. A warm trickle of blood ran down from the cut. For a split second, she knew what real fear was.
As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Her attackers grew quiet. Slowly, painfully, Amy raised herself up.
“I hate you more, so there!”
“No you don’t! Liar!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
The tiny girl swung a fist at the offending toddler, smacking him in the nose with all the strength her five year old arm could muster. He howled in pain, falling to the ground sobbing. Alerted by the cries, two playground supervisors came running, grabbing hold of her before she could inflict more damage.
“Amy! What’s the matter with you? You know we don’t hit!” one scolded, trying to hide her surprise at the anger radiating from the normally calm child.
“He started it!” she yelled, struggling to free herself and smack him again.
“I did not! You wouldn’t share!”
“You grabbed it! There’s no grabbing allowed!”
“Did not!”
Despite the adults’ efforts, neither child could be reconciled. Ten minutes after their first meeting, it was clear there would be no friendship between the two.
At the end of that first day, after several near riots, hair pulling, pinching, and general playground warfare, it was time for the parents to meet each other.
Mrs. Hochberg arrived, as was her habit, in style; complete with limo and chauffeur.
The McNeils on the other hand, somehow managed on foot from their home a street away.
After a minute of mindless chatter, in which excuses were made, they reached the heart of the matter.
“I understand she’s only five, of course, but perhaps your Amy could be a little more … willing to share.” Mrs. Hochberg began, not unkindly, to the other mother. The woman shook her head, baffled.
“Amy’s usually fine with that. I don’t know what got into her. She’s never been in a fight before.”
“Finn does have a bit of a temper, I admit, but it’s normal. We adopted him, you see. He’s our little miracle child. We tried so hard to have some our own, but sadly it didn’t work out. So you see we do try to indulge him when he wants something.”
Mrs. McNeil blinked in confusion, trying to reconcile the contradictory and irrelevant statement.
“I see. I guess … he came from a troubled family?”
“Oh I don’t know about that. We never met them. He came to us when he was six months old. In any case, as I was saying, your daughter could be a better sharer. Please, talk to her. We don’t want this happening again.” She gave a faint, mirthless chuckle, seemingly unaware of the incredulity in the other’s stare.
Triumphant, Finn stuck his tongue out at his rival from behind his mother’s back. In the split second it took for the parents to react, she’d smacked him again, prompting a fresh outburst. After that, civil conversations were thrown out of the window and both parties left a few minutes later deeply offended and never to speak again.
Things did not improve as the years passed, not until the enemies reached high school. It was easier to ignore each other amidst the endless drama and mountains of homework. For a while, things went smoothly. Until a few months into the summer holiday.
It was a glorious Saturday afternoon. The usual pack of wannabe delinquents lazed about the pool, only occasionally dipping in a toe. They were the offspring of the town’s richest families and therefore too cool to actually swim. Especially not in something as dirty as a public pool. They all had their own at home, but they were rebels. They couldn’t be seen actually indulging in their parent’s wealth. Besides, there was little opportunity to show off or make trouble with butlers watching your every move.
Finn lay on his back, head resting on his girlfriend’s lap, smirking at some rude comment made by his friends. He was their leader, the plan-maker and party-planner. Even at the pool he liked to maintain appearances. Sunglasses, white t-shirt, and of course not a hair on his head out of place. His parents were by far the wealthiest of all. It helped to raise his status in the group. Someday, he would take over his adoptive father’s business, and they would all work for him. Every boy there knew it.
Amy spotted them the instant she set foot outside out of the changing rooms. She groaned inwardly and almost turned around. Taken individually they were ok kids. Some, like Finn himself, could even manage to be pretty sweet at times. He’d improved somewhat since pre-school.
As soon as the pack formed though, they became a nightmare. Kids had been known to voluntarily stay behind after school just to avoid having to deal with the spoiled brats. She was not, however, frightened enough to let them ruin her afternoon. With a bit of luck, they’d stay on their side and not notice her.
It worked for about ten minutes, until they got bored with harassing the life-guard and started searching for new victims. Almost instantly there was a shout from one of the boys, and the pack, surged toward her.
Amy raced for the exit, not caring about leaving half of her things behind. Unfortunately the crowd was thick that day, slowing her progress considerably. Within minutes of getting outside they had her surrounded.
All became a blur of teasing, shouting boys.
“Aw, lookie, boys, little Amy’s trying to fight back.” One snickered.
“Yeah, trying.”
“No, no, she’s a real little tigress, ain’t she.”
They laughed stupidly, pushing each other around as much as they did her. She fought back desperately, snarling in frustration as they evaded her blows. A particularly hard shove sent her tumbling to the ground.
Amy let out a cry of pain as her head smacked hard against the concrete. A warm trickle of blood ran down from the cut. For a split second, she knew what real fear was.
As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Her attackers grew quiet. Slowly, painfully, Amy raised herself up.