The playground didn’t deviate too dramatically from her dream. Gray skies huddle together, looming, cavorting, plotting the best moment to ruin the lowly half-hour the kids get. Sally watched her peers careen about, chasing after one another, laughing and shoving. Past the jungle gym and swings, across the grass field where the evil coach made them run wind sprints during PE, there was an old backstop from when the school used to sponsor sports. It’s bent at odd angles, a vestige of missed baseballs and frustrated bats. This is where she gathered with others that had tired of slides, of tiny pebbles in their shoes. The Moira triplets were already there playing Knucklebones, trying to entice others to join their game of Trinity. Sally heard as Cathy, the oldest, tried to tempt one of the seventh graders to join.
“C’mon, just fifty cents to join. A dime a bone. Just call before the bounce, take what you call, and before you know it you’ll be knee deep in coin, kid.”
“Except for the part where you have to pay per knuckle before you bounce, and if you miss even one, you lose it all. Feeling brave?” Sally interjected.
The kid looked from Cathy’s grin to Sally’s raised brow and took off toward the swings.
“Ugh, Sally, you unlicked cub. Why would you ruin our fun like that?”
“Or do you perhaps plan on inserting yourself for the trouble?” chimed Lesly.
“Look at those eyes,” hissed Morty. “Someone hasn’t been too sleeping good.”
“You can all go suck an egg. Have you seen John?”
“Poor Johny doesn’t come see us anymore.”
“Not after what you did.” Cathy twirled a couple bones between her fingers.
Lesly and Morty started circling Sally as they spoke. Lost in the grass at her feet and whirling memories, Sally lost track of who was speaking.
“Besides, I don’t know that he has it in him to pay any more of your gambles, Miss Sally.”
“Oh, yeah. We heard you made him keep his eyes open,” they cooed.
“Can we not talk about it?” Sally felt a piece of the ham sandwich had hidden itself somewhere.
“We thought we charged interest, but you’ve gone and made forgiveness a commodity. Color us impressed.”
“Got another big wager in ya, Sal? I’m sure we can find you another sucker. All it’d take is that pretty little trinket around your neck.”
It wasn’t the worst suggestion of the day. The kid that had taken off hadn’t made it very far. In fact, he had only gotten a few feet before gettin winded and slowing down to a walk. One silky word from Cathy, a flash of Sally’s roll, and the web would begin to take shape. You throw the first few rounds, win small, he gets a nice taste for the thrill. The adrenaline hits the finger tips; he gets greedy. Every now and then, Sally likes to feign an empty tank. A little pinch of the skin just inside the elbow crooks is all it takes to bring the tears. The slower you can take off the medallion, really make them stare at it, the better. It captivates them, hypnotizes, soothes. The web has a nice bounce to it that makes it seem as if the fly has only encountered a breeze.
He pushes the pot, starts calling more bones than he can possibly pick up at once, ignorant of Sally’s steady hand that is wrapping him in silk for dinner later. He’ll run out of cash well before he runs out of thirst, and it’s at this point that he’ll either ask the triplets to stake him, or for Sally to take other forms of payment, which she’s more than happy to negotiate for.
The fly never feels the prick of the sting. The struggle makes the venom work faster.
Eventually, the numbing agent wears off. The spider breathes in the spicy aroma of fresh insect juices, ripe and warm. It carries off its prey to be had at the arachnids leisure.
Sally turned to get the kid’s attention, but he was already staring at her. In fact, he had been standing right behind her the entire time.
“Jesus Christ, kid, what the fuck is wrong with you,” she shouted as she jumped back.
“Sorry, it’s just I overheard you were looking for John,” his voice wheezed out.
“Yeah, and?”
“Well, he’s over there by the swings talking to Miss Herringhorn,” he said, a pudgy finger in the air.
Sally’s eyes flashed across the field, past the slides, through the jungle gym, onto the swings to discover that her vision was entirely too poor for the distance. She pushed past the kid and triplets in a huff, never taking her eyes off John and Miss Herringhorn. Her legs burned before she crossed the field. She took a tumble when she tripped over the metal slide she failed to notice. When she managed to gather herself off the ground, she saw John had left, but Miss Herringhorn was still there by the swing. Her pink lips were pursed, her arms crossed. The white streak feathered in the light breeze. Sally’s nose whistled as it wheezed in air. Her exhales flapped flatly out of her gaping mouth.
“Sally, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Miss H. Have you seen John?”
“He went inside to grab some chalk. I told him he could go into my class to grab it.”
“Thanks.”
Sally walked into the building. There was no other path out, so she didn’t have to worry about John giving her the slip. She found him rummaging around in her desk.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he spat back at her.
“I came just to—”
“To make sure I hadn’t said anything to Miss H?”
“No, not exactly—”
“I’m looking for what’s mine.”
Sally walked over to him and pushed him away from her desk. He stood and stared at her. He took a step forward and shoved her back. She planted a foot and slapped him. He lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. She turned her head left and right, arms and legs flailing. She managed to give him a knock on the hips that made him fall over. She got on top of him and grabbed hold of his hair. Once she had a grip, she started bashing it on the ground. She only got a couple in before he pushed her off and against the legs of the desks surrounding them. They slid back with a clatter.
“What is going on here.” Miss Herringhorn barreled through the door. She rushed to get between them.
Neither child wanted to make eye contact.
“Someone better tell me what’s going on before you both get ISS.”
“Nothing, Miss H. I tripped. John was just trying to help me up, but then he tripped over my foot.”
“John, is that what happened?”
John stared at the ground.
“John?”
“No.” John, answered.
“John—”
“No, Sally. I can’t do this anymore. Miss H, Mr. Fuzzles’s death wasn’t because he was old. It was me.”
“John, you shut your stupid face. Miss H, I think he just feels guilty because his class found Mr. Fuzzles,” Sally said as she walked past Miss Herringhorn and attempted to push John out of the classroom. He knocked her arms away and stood in front of Miss Herringhorn.
“I did it, Miss Herringhorn. It was me. I killed Mr. Fuzzles.”
“John, there’s no way I can believe that, honey.” She placed a hand on his shoulder as she crouched to his level. “I know you might think it was your fault, but I promise you these things just happen, sweetheart. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”
“It’s true. I took him. I grabbed him by the neck. And I twisted. He cried and made the worst scream. I felt him twitch in my hands. I heard the snap. I watched his eyes go blank. I felt him stop moving.”
“No, it isn’t, John,” Miss Herringhorn said as she stood.
“It was me. I’m sorry, Miss Herringhorn,” his eyes flashed briefly in Sally’s direction. Miss Herringhorn caught the knowing glance.
“Sally, what happened,” she asked.
“He told you, Miss Herringhorn. He did it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sally, don’t lie to me. You know what happened. So tell me.”
“I don’t know, Miss Herringhorn.”
“Sally…”
“Miss Herringhorn, he did it. I don’t—”
“Salome you stop lying and tell me what happened!”
Sally’s chest was tight. The air felt heavy around her. Her entire body tingled with sweat. The bitterness from earlier in the day had returned. She looked at John. John was looking at the ground. She looked at Miss Herringhorn. Miss Herringhorn looked at her. Sally blinked.
“Sally.” Miss Herringhorn’s whisper seemed a plea to not admit something they already knew.
“He did it because I told him to.”
“What?”
“He did it because I wouldn’t give him a way out. Because I won and he lost. He didn't want his mom to find out, so he begged for anything to get his money back. Because he had taken my medallion. I wanted him to hurt.”
“Sally, why?”
“I knew how much he cared about the stupid thing. I could’ve done it myself. That would’ve been too easy. I wanted him to do it to himself. I saw an opportunity to make him hurt. I took it.”
The sound of children outside echoed about the room.
The bell rang signaling the end of recess.
“Sally, I’m sure you didn’t mean to—”
“I did. I knew what I was doing. And I do it again.”