“You’re. Dead.” Tim brushed himself off as he stood up. Jeff hopped up from the nearby picnic table to back him up. I found myself boxed in.

Nehemiah used a rubber band to shoot a paper clip at Jeff. It hit him just above the cheek and left a bloody slash as well as the beginnings of a welt. Cupping his face, Jeff barked in pain. His face flushed red, as if caught in a steam blast. Jeff charged toward Nehemiah.

“You’re both dead!” Jeff wiped his bleeding cheek.

The two of them chased after us like twin lions about to pounce on a herd of sleeping gazelles. Nehemiah followed my lead. We ran from them, but not at full tilt, only fast enough for them to keep up. I wanted to lead them away from the girl. Once I thought back on it, I don’t think she was in any actual trouble. They simply teased each other the way boys and girls who liked each other do. But I’d already committed, even though I had no real plan for dealing with them.

On the other side of the playground, an area of wet, worn grass glistened. A glimmer of an idea formed.

Motioning to Nehemiah, I changed directions, Tim and Jeff close behind, and headed toward the muddy grass. As my lead foot hit the fringes of the mud slick, my traction gave. I silently cursed my cheap shoes. Nehemiah wasn’t faring much better. Tim and Jeff were dangerously close behind him, but he was locked into this gambit. We wobbled from side to side. Then I quit running. Instead I gave into the terrain and sort of slid across the top of the slick. Nehemiah reached out. I steadied him as he did the same thing. Sparing a glance to check our lead, the trailing duo never quit running. Greedy, Tim reached out toward Nehemiah, who had slowed down. His sneer gradually collapsed once he found himself slipping in the mud. His outstretched hand wavered, even grabbed after Nehemiah a few times before he went down. He latched on to Jeff. The more he tried to regain his balance, the more off-balance they became, until Tim pulled the two of them into the cool embrace of the mud. They flailed about in frustration. The rest of the class ran over to make fun of them.

The teachers came over to yell at us. I told them about them picking on me, on us, and the name calling (the adults were horrified by the words they called me). But we still got in trouble for instigating that fight. Tim and Jeff weren’t problems again. In fact, they went out of their way to be nice to us for the rest of the year. At first I thought that they were playing up their innocence for the teachers to let the heat die down and then really get even with us. Every day we got off the bus ready to be chased or ambushed.