Playing The Fool

Goggles, hairy monster hand, birdsong whistle. Michael looked at the objects in his school bag and nodded. This plan was going to work; he just knew it.
He knew the odds were high, but he had to do something because last week had been a total disaster. It was like everything he tried to do to make things better, just made it worse.
The worst part was that he didn’t even know how it had started. He’d been happy at school; his Mum had even taken him out for a treat after parent’s evening because she was so proud of him for what he’d achieved. Mum said his teacher, Mrs Brown, had commented how nice it was to see him settling down with a group of friends and how hard he was working. Mum had said how nice it was that school finally realised how awesome Michael was, like she did.
Then, when he’d got in on Friday he’d seen that all his friends had a birthday party invite. They were all stood in an excited cluster looking at their printed papers, and even from a distance Michael could see that they were for the local Go-Karting place. Michael had felt a whizz of excitement start in the pit of his belly, he was already imagining the fun he and his friends would have, how he’d whizz across the finish line in first place and maybe win a trophy.
The smile faded from his lips really quickly when Dan told him that he wasn’t invited.
‘I could only invite four friends,’ Dan said, but there was something mean about the way he said it.
Michael had nodded, because there were so many feelings in his head that he couldn’t get any words out. He was disappointed of course, but it also hurt like a paper cut. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but if he had to guess who Dan’s four best friends were, he would have thought he’d be number 2 or 3 at least.
The thoughts worried at Michael all morning. He kept thinking about all the things he’d said and done, trying to work out why Dan didn’t think he was best friend material any more. It wasn’t fair! Michael knew he was a good friend. Why had Dan invited Simon and not him? Simon had made Dan cry last term by telling him they weren’t friends any more, and he was always bossing Dan about. Simon was mean.
Michael stormed down the corridor on his way to the playground, he needed to get outside and run around until his legs ached and he could hardly breathe. He needed to play a loud, rough game and let out all the thunder that was rolling around in his belly. Then, somehow, he was tripping, finding himself on his knees and hearing someone crying behind him. Confused, Michael looked back and saw one of the younger kids glaring at him angrily.
‘You pushed me over!’
‘I didn’t!’
‘You did! I’m telling!’
Michael felt dizzy, he clenched his fists but all those feelings were swirling around in his head again and he didn’t know what to do or say. Before he was ready, Mrs Brown was in front of him with a cross look on her face.
‘Did you push Jamie over?’
‘I don’t know who Jamie is!’ Michael complained. It was no good, no matter how hard he tried to keep his anger inside, it was spilling out.
‘This is Jamie,’ Mrs Brown said, pointing to the boy Michael had seen crying.
‘Oh. Well. I don’t know. I just tripped over.’
‘It was an accident?’ she asked.
‘It wasn’t!’ Jamie protested.
‘It was!’ Michael roared. His cheeks felt hot and he was digging his fingernails into his hands in frustration.
‘Enough of that. What do you say, Michael?’
‘I’m. Sorry.’
‘Alright, off you both go. And Michael?’
Michael paused, already halfway to the door. He didn’t look back, he could see the green grass and the blue sky outside and he just needed to be out in it.
‘I’m watching you.’
Michael burst out of the door and streaked across the playground, he didn’t look left or right or backwards, even when he heard people yelling his name. Ahead of him was an empty bench and he went to sit on it, sucking in a great lungful of air that felt beautifully cool.
What was going on? Today just didn’t feel right at all. First the party, and then Jamie…and the shouting? Maybe he’d run through the middle of someone’s game? Michael wasn’t sure and he didn’t feel like he could turn around right now and find out.
There was a warm pressure at the back of his eyes, and Michael screwed them up tight because he knew there were tears ready to fall and he didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of everyone. He wished that he was at home, cuddled up on the sofa with his Mum. There was just the two of them now Dad had gone but it was nice, anyway. Safe.
‘You can’t sit there.’
Michael opened his eyes to see Daisy Jones stood in front of him.
‘Why?’ he asked, coughing because his throat felt tight and itchy.
‘Because we’re playing here.’ Daisy put her bag down on the bench, right next to Michael.
Michael looked Daisy deliberately in the eye as he slid her bag to one side. Then there was a whooshing noise, and the clattering of all her things emptying out into the mud below.
Wincing, Michael didn’t dare look. He could tell from the expression of horror on Daisy’s face that something precious was now covered in muck. He opened his mouth to try and say something, but Daisy was already running across the playground to Mrs Brown.
Michael watched, but he felt like he was made of concrete, or that he was frozen. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. He sat there, wondering if he was actually going to throw up on his shoes, as Mrs Brown came over.
‘Michael, did you throw Daisy’s stuff on the floor?’
‘No.’
‘And he ruined our game, Miss!’ piped up someone else.
Michael didn’t even bother to look who it was, he just started at his shoes.
‘Did you?’
‘NO.’
‘He did Miss!’
Well so much for having lots of friends! Michael thought. Why were they telling lies about him anyway?
‘Michael, did you?’
Oh, what was the point? thought Michael. Everyone had already made their minds up about him. All his so called friends had been lying, no one liked him really.
‘Yes.’
‘And did you throw Daisy’s things on the floor?’
‘Yes.’
‘And did you push Jamie over?’
‘YES.’
‘Alright. That’s four strikes, Michael. You need to go to the headmaster.’
‘FOUR?’
‘You get another one for lying to me about Jamie,’ Mrs Brown said, pointing without any sign of pity to the school building. ‘Go and wait for Mr Daniels.’
As he walked away, he heard Daisy say, loudly, ‘Four strikes! Now we don’t get our extra playtime. Thanks a lot MICHAEL!’
Michael had to bite his lip, hard, to stop himself from saying anything in reply.
The rest of the day had been a blur. Mr Daniel’s had talked at him for ages, making him write a stupid apology letter for stupid things that he hadn’t even stupid done! Then at the end of the day Mr Daniels had come and found his Mum and told her all about it.
The worst part had been seeing his Mum’s face crumple, like it did when someone mentioned Dad leaving.
‘Did you do that, Michael?’ she asked, and he wanted more than anything to tell her that he hadn’t but he’d spent all day telling Mr Daniels that he had, so he wouldn’t get into any more trouble, and now he just felt stuck!
‘We’ll talk about it at home,’ his Mum had said, taking tight hold of his hand and giving his fingers a squeeze as they walked back. No stop at the sweet shop today, though.
He’d poured all his feelings out to his Mum later. First he’d shouted, and then he’d cried, and then they’d had a big cuddle and he felt that her cheeks were wet with tears too.
‘I love you,’ she said.
‘I love you.’
‘I’m so sorry that you had a tough day, Michael. I know that you wouldn’t ever do anything mean to anyone. You’re not a bad person, you’re the best boy that I know.’
Michael let out a shuddering breath, feeling a little bit of the pressure that had been pushing down on the top of his head ever since he’d realised he wasn’t going to the party, go away. He still felt bad, but at least now he didn’t feel alone.
‘I believe in you,’ Mum said. ‘So we’re going to just write today off as a bad one, alright? And on Monday morning you go into school with a big smile on your face and just be yourself. Because yourself is awesome.’
Now it was Monday morning; Michael had been thinking all weekend how to win his friends over. He was leaving angry Michael at home; he was going to make sure that they smiled at him when he got into the playground today.
Slipping the goggles over his eyes, Michael quite liked the blurry way the world looked. He admired the black hairs on the back of the green monster hand glove that he had worn at Halloween. It was pretty funny, and pretty cool. Lastly, he stuck the duck whistle in his mouth and blew; grinning around the instrument as it quacked loudly.
Standing by the school gate, Michael imagined himself running into the playground, flapping his arms wildly as he hopped and danced around his friends who were all laughing and thinking how awesome he was.
Goggles, hairy monster hand, duck whistle.
This plan was going to work. He just knew it.