Artwork by Nezariel
RIGIL‘s first day of school is recess…
Thursday, October 21, 2021
On our first day at Saimre Joseph Prep, Gus sends us on our way from the Lone Avenue GTube station. Arriving at the blackened brick school building, having missed our first three classes, I’m put in the seventh grade, and Remi’s good enough for the ninth. I eat alone for 25 minutes and later instructed to leave with this kid screeching the polished cafeteria floors with the bottoms of his rubber soles. He does this all the way to the blacktop, never looking me in the eye or asking if I appreciate his behavior.
I’m immediately approached by three curly-haired girls, one brunette, and a boy, asking, “Rigil, are you Rigil? My friend thinks you’re hot!”
“What?” I ask. “Why do you say my name like this?”
The kid, who I presume is the group’s leader, responds, “You don’t talk like you’re not from here.”
They each gaze, mesmerized by my corduroy blue and white collar that’s halfway popped. The brunette steps closer, covering her mouth. “Oh my gosh,” she says, “Can I feel your hair?”
And I let her.
Annoyed for not knowing which girl says I’m cute, I accept their invite anyway to play a hopping-in-the-box-like game. The boy instructs me by pointing toward my feet as I step and hop. “You’re not doing it right,” he says, grabbing my arm. “You have to hop two times, step into this square, and then jump with one foot to finish inside the lines.”
“Okay. I’ll try again.”
“Back in line and wait your turn—again.” With his finger in which I wish to snap, he points it past five kids to the end of the line.
The last kid standing in line, the floor screecher, eagerly waiting his turn, looks to my neckline and asks, “Do you play basketball?”
“I’ve never touched one.”
“Why not? They have extra balls—and then we can play.”
The kid looks onward to the blacktop courts, jumping back and forth—maybe indecisive about hopping or shooting. So, I ask, “Do you know how to play?”
“Yeah. Me and my dad watch the boys play the other schools, and they try to win. They’re the tall boys.” He then points, looking down at his buckled shoes, and shuffles his feet as he did in the cafeteria, making skid marks on the concrete in a spinning motion.
“I think we lost him…”
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