The Kick

The rubber toe of her turquoise All Star high tops scooped just under the burgundy rubber and popped the kickball into the air. The kick was a perfect toss back into the pitchers hands.

Lenore started to run to the first base anyway, a sight that was uncomfortable on its own. Her growth spurt had started but her weight hadn’t gotten the memo yet, so her scrawny legs seemed too thin to properly carry the rest of her body. A week ago, she and another shorter student had discovered they both weighed the same amount, a mere seventy-five pounds. Due to his height, Mikey looked well-rounded while Lenore resembled the legs of a baby ostrich. When she ran, one pictured a jigsaw puzzle trying to stand on its own. 

Stu stretched out both arms from his stance on the pitchers mound. His right hand was missing two fingers from a birth defect that had left him with the appearance that he was always hanging ten, though there were no surfboard options in Illinois. His rotund figure and abundance of dark freckles that somehow didn’t pop off of his beachball shaped head would have normally left him the subject of teasing by other students, but all of Lenore’s classmates seemed to have been given the same lecture by their parents, and Stu had managed to make it to fifth grade without being bullied. Unfortunately, this had not caused him to be a sweet kid. He grinned as Lenore’s kick plopped neatly into his arms. 

Stu’s pinky and thumb webbed the edge of the ball as he arched his shoulder and pivoted to Lenore’s direction. It whacked out of his grip like a paddle had struck it. The rest of the class could have heard the air whistle as it stalked after her. There was unnecessary rage behind Stu’s strike. 

Lenore’s ear immediately started to ring at the moment of impact. The ball struck directly at it, and the pain was hot and searing all the way to her collarbone. Horrified, she immediately stopped running and took a sharp turn off of the field, in an attempt to quietly return to the bleachers. As she started toward the rest of her class, the tears were unstoppable and clouded her vision. 

“Hey!” Mr. K gently pushed another student out of the way as he hurried to Lenore. He struck an angry pointer finger in Stu’s direction and his eyes seemed to turn a darker blue from his anger. “Don’t you move from that mound! Not an inch!”

Lenore’s height made it awkward for her teacher to meet her face to face. He couldn’t squat and he couldn’t stand, so he bent over with both hands on his kneecaps, though he focused his weight into the right one. He had gone through extensive knee surgery over the summer and his physical therapist wouldn’t be pleased if he ruined his progress by helping a student, again. 

“Do you need to go to the nurse?” Lenore refused to make eye contact. The heat from embarrassment had reached the same temperature as the skin where the ball had landed, and her cheeks were already soggy. She inhaled with three hitches as she shook her head. 

“You’re sure?” He continued. “Because if I get a call from your mom tonight it’s going to ruin my date night.” His humor made Lenore more comfortable, and she smirked. “I’m okay,” she nodded.

Mr. K stood up and touched Lenore’s shoulder. “Okay. Good. Now we have to make it right.” He applied pressure to her shoulder to move her in Stu’s direction. They approached him at the mound. 

“The rest of you stay there,” Mr. K yelled to the rest of the class as he moved his hand around to address all of them, including those in the outfield. He turned his attention to Stu as Lenore wiped her face.

“That was on purpose,” he said. “This is a game, Stu. We don’t hit anyone like that, especially girls, and we don’t aim for anyone’s head.” Stu remained silent but his head began to droop. 

Mr. K bent down again to reach Lenore. “You can get him back. Kick him the same way you kicked that ball. But below the knees only.”

Lenore’s eyes shot up to meet her teacher’s. “Really?” She asked, shocked. “Really?!” Stu repeated with equal surprise. “I’ll tell my mom!”

Mr. K pointed at him for the second time. “Go ahead. I plan to tell her anyway. She should know she has a son that is letting out rage during recess and refusing to play nice.”

Despite the parent lectures to their kids, this wasn’t the first time Stu had lashed out at another student without instigation or justification. Mr. K suspected it wouldn’t be the last incident to come from Stu either. 

He turned to Lenore again. “Below the knees only,” he repeated. He shook his finger to emphasize his point as he backed up. 

Lenore clenched her fists into balls at the end of her skinny wrists. She looked back and forth between Stu’s beady brown eyes as she marched a few steps closer to him. She struck her right toe into him harder than she had the ball. She felt her foot smush sharply into the thickness of his shin as he attempted to quietly wince. It felt good. The pain and embarrassment Lenore had been feeling crumbled away as her foot planted back into the ground. She smiled.

The rest of the class stared in astonishment. The field was silent. 

Mr. K and Lenore quietly exited the field and returned to the bleachers. Stu hung his head with humility as he quickly rubbed his shin. He had thrown the ball the way he did on purpose, even though Lenore had never done anything to him. 

Mr. K made himself a mental note to call Stu’s mother during lunch. He resumed his seat and Lenore went back to her classmates. “Play ball!!” he screamed.