Behind Monkey Bars

“Somebody, stop him!”

           I glanced down at the loot I had just stolen and stuffed it in my shirt. After snatching it from the hands of an unsuspecting woman, I darted across the sidewalk away from Second Street. Pedestrians crowded the area, making a quick getaway difficult. I peered over my shoulder only to see a police guard right on my tail.

           “Stop, thief!”

           My meticulously organized robbery was now in full swing. Darting past dozens of bystanders, I whipped out my cell phone and fumbled with it momentarily.

           “Where are you?”

           “Ninth Street,” my driver responded, “and I am outside the warehouse.” I hung up. Speed is key. If I could make it to the warehouse, I’d be in a car, speeding out of the city. Speeding away from this police guard who was persistently screaming at me to halt.

           I can’t mess this up. I can’t go back to jail. I have to make it to Ninth Street. Sweat beads rolled down my face. I scurried down the sidewalk, dodging people as if I were in a football game. The guard’s face twisted into a scowl as he sprinted after me. I glanced behind my shoulder, oblivious to my surroundings, and collided with a hot dog cart. Sausages were launched every which way, tripping some people and merely amusing others. Quickly getting to my feet, I wiped chili off my shirt.

           “Aye, watch where you’re going!”

I vaulted over the tipped cart and continued my pursuit down the sidewalk. The guard had gained tons of ground. I lunged out into the road, barely missing a taxi, and made a sharp turn down Fifth Street. Adrenaline pumped through my veins.

The guard was nowhere in sight. Leaning against the wall to catch my breath, I pondered my next move. What now? A souvenir cart stood half a block away, and I needed a disguise. It was a mediocre stand at best, but it did have some clothing that I snatched eagerly. Sunglasses. Hats. Scarfs. Anything to hide my painfully obvious orange jumpsuit. I was not prepared for a foot chase downtown with a police guard, or changing clothes would have been added to the schedule. The owner of the stand stepped out from behind a rack of tacky keychains.

“Oui, give those back!”

My speed quickened. Skidding across the pavement, I slid onto seventh street, losing my left shoe.

Ninth street, ninth street, I have to make it to ninth street. My heart was pounding loudly, but my feet were pounding louder.

The city sidewalk felt rough against my sock foot. Little pebbles stuck in between my toes. Sirens blared behind me. Someone must have called the cops. I was running out of breath. I dodged person after person, but still the guard was gaining on me. The sound of jackhammers unpleasantly roared in my ears, but a construction site was a perfect place to hide. I darted past the orange cones and into a back alley. A cop car screeched to a halt beside me, and three men exited the backseat.

“Stop and put your hands up!”

The overwhelming smell of smoke and garbage scorched my eyes, sending a stream of hot tears down my cheek. I can’t go back to prison. Despite the ever-increasing number of police officers chasing me, I refused to slow down. I felt invincible. Pounding footsteps grew closer behind me. I could almost feel the guard’s breath on the back of my neck.

“I gotcha!”

He ripped off my scarf, his fingers just slipping over my shirt collar. I reached in my pocket and desperately felt around. I needed something. Anything. A chunk of gravel, perfect. With a twist and a grunt, I launched the rock at the guard and hit him right in the face.

“ARGH!”

Run, run, run. Get to ninth street.

I ducked behind a building to the right. Where now? Nervously scanning the area, an apartment building with windows scaling the building caught my eye. Perfect. I began to climb, hastily securing the loot that was stuffed in my shirt.

           One story. I grabbed hold of the next windowsill and pulled myself up. Two stories. Three stories. I wiped the sweat from my brow and stuck my fingers between the crevasses of the brick wall. Four stories. I could still hear the crowd of people screeching below me, “Somebody get him!” An increasing number of bystanders were surrounding the bottom of the building. A guard dashed through the front door of the building. I heaved myself up to the next floor. Five stories. My fingers began to slip on the bricks. As I attempted to pull myself up to the next ledge, I felt my feet slip below me. I was dangling by my fingers. The noises of police sirens and screaming people filled my head. I slipped half an inch further. How did I get myself here? I squeezed my eyes shut and braced for impact.

           “Mason!”

           I was jerked out of my thoughts by my teacher.

           “Can you come here please?”

           The mulch felt prickly on my legs as I fell from my post on top of the monkey bars. I retrieved my left shoe from across the playground and put it on my dirty sock foot.

“We are waiting!”

Despite my teacher’s sudden sense of urgency, I took my sweet time walking to the front door of the school, kicking pebbles and crunching dead leaves with my red sneakers as I went across the field, up the steps, and down the sidewalk. I sulked up to my teacher.

           “Mason, do you have anything you’d like to tell me about?”

           I remained quiet.

           “Madeline told me you stole her diary, and Johnny says you hit him in the face with a rock. Did you do those things?”

           I nodded. Johnny had a large red mark on his forehead, precisely the size of the rock that had been in my pocket.

           “No more recess for you today, Mason.”

           Although my teacher was upset, I knew she’d be pleased with me when I save her classroom from that bright green, fire-breathing dragon waiting in the parking lot. But unfortunately for all of us, he would have to wait until tomorrow.