Lunch Money

"Lunch Money”

Mose
Desmoulins

Years later, I can still remember that cold December afternoon like it had
happened yesterday. The memories were still crystal clear, seemingly
unspoiled by the test of time. I could still feel the pain, the
adrenaline, and the humiliation that passed through me on the old
rusty playground, nine years ago today.  I can still hear the metal
chain-links of the swing-set singing with the sharp winter air. I can
still see the mess of limbs, the body sprawled out at the bottom of
the slide, his saliva pooling around his thick chin. I could still
feel the smooth metal coins jumping around in my pocket like animals
in a cage, yearning to be set free. 

It’s the subtle things that bring me back, like hearing the satisfying
crack of breaking glass under one’s foot, or the cold winter
air that bites at your nose when you’re not looking, but
usually, it’s the loose change. The
loose change still haunts me to this day.
Cha-chink, cha-chink, cha-chink.

Even the tiniest tease of the sound can send me back. It’s a rush. I
live in this twisted reality where I find pleasure in my pain. I’m
always waiting on the next time I get dragged back into my
nightmares, dragged back to the pain, dragged back to that fateful
day on the rusty old playground outside of St. Boniface Secondary. 

This is the first time in many years that I’m walking by the school.
Ever since I buried the memory deep into the crevices of my brain
where nobody would dare venture, I tried to avoid the school at all
costs. It was a coping mechanism that cascaded into a greater effort
to bury this day from ever resurfacing. I would never be able to bare
that kind of pain again. 
Instinctively,I raised my fingers to face, probing for the evidence. Like always, I 

start just below my ear, and then moved down to the chin, until I

find the scar that rests beneath my jaw and above my adams-apple. A
painful image flashes in my head. The jagged edge of the playground
slide hisses and groans as my chin meets the frozen metal. A violent
surge boils inside; starting from toes and works it’s way to a
throbbing tantrum underneath my chin. I begin to lose my breath.

I wince, close my eyes, and let it happen. Here it comes again.
It’s a Friday, shortly after twelve, just before lunchtime. My gym class

finished earlier than expected, so I sneak out before the bell in
hopes that I’ll beat the line at the local convenience around
the block. I never understood why the
place got so busy on Friday, their only claim to fame was their
greasy burgers that tasted worse than the grub the serve at the café,
but somehow I always found myself suffering in line for an extra
thirty minutes every Friday. I promised myself not today. 

On my way to the store, I always pass by the rusty old town playground,
and it always amazes me how it hasn’t fallen down yet. I spent
many days here as a child. Those were the good old days, where I
could waste away my time having fun with my friends from around the
neighborhood. This is where I met my best childhood friend, Charlie,
or, as everyone else knows him: Pudge.
Pudge was one of a kind; everywhere he went he was always the biggest

person in the room. He had the biggest heart, and biggest belly of
anyone I’ve ever met. We were both fairly timid, me more than
him, and that’s what brought us together. For all of elementary
school, we were inseparable, but then high-school came along, and
that was a much different story. We drifted apart, and eventually
there came a time when he needed to make a decision on who he wanted
to be friends with, and he didn’t chose me. 
During the winter, you wouldn’t find a soul near the playground. The

structure was old and brittle, and nobody trusted it on the best of
days. So it struck me when I saw two boys arguing in front of the
slide. This peaked my interest, and while something in my stomach
warned me of the grim outcome, another part of me drew me closer,
step by step. I used the rusty red metal structure for cover as I
approached, treading carefully to ensure I would be undetected. As I
got closer, I recognized Pudge, but the other figure was a mystery.
He wore a pair of scruffy blue jeans, an over-sized jet-black leather
jacket, and matching flat brim cap that hid most of his face. From
what I could make out he was old, much older than Pudge, and he was
irritated. 
With each passing minute, it seemed like he became more aggravated. He

looked like a pit-bull, gnashing his teeth at an intruder, and it
wasn’t long before Pudge’s jacket was covered in the
man’s saliva. I watched Pudge’s face turn a ghastly shade
of white; I could see the desperation, the fear and the helplessness
in his eyes. It was like his eyes were searching for something, but
every time he reached out, he fell flat on his face.
Then, Mr. Pitbull lost his temper. It all happened so quickly. His hand

clenching Pudge’s shoulder, his other curling into a fist, then
the crack that Pudge’s jaw made when it met the man’s
fist, and lastly the resounding clang that the frozen metal slide
made when it announced Pudge’s fall. From my vantage point, my
eye’s met his momentarily, and I watched as they rolled into
the back of his head. 
Pudge’s fall didn’t satisfy Mr. Pitbull violent needs. Displeased with

the punishment he calmly walked over to Pudge’s slumped figure,
pausing only once, when he stepped onto Pudge’s glasses. They
broke with a satisfying crack. The man lifted him up, and watched
Pudge’s head bob back and forth, limp and absent of control.
Like a nurturing mother, he delicately braced Pudge, cradling the
back of his head in one arm. Then without warning, he delivered a
vicious punch that caught the motionless body in between the nose and
the mouth. Pudge’s body sank into the slide, a heap of limbs,
as saliva and blood pooled beneath his thick chin.  
I’m not sure where it came from, but it was hot, it was raw and it wasn’t about to let its best

friend get pummeled by this stranger. A reckless courage swallowed
me, causing me to leave my position of safety. I took a step, then
two from behind the slide, until I was in full view of the attacker.
The coins danced in pocket, singing louder and louder with each step.

That’s enough,” I cried out, trying to sound as assertive as I could. 

My confidence got lost in my throat and my voice betrayed me. The

stranger looked up. He said nothing, but a smug smile crept onto his
lips. He took one step towards me. I could see the fire in his eyes,
but what really bothered me was the lack of any sign of remorse for
his actions. My expectations of guilt were met with a blank stare.

As he moved closer, I felt this gripping panic seize control of my body.
The fear was overwhelming, and it caused me to stumble and I lost my
balance. Before I had a chance to brace myself, my body toppled
forward. I was now at the whims of gravity. The light bounced off the
slide in front of face, it was blindingly bright, and it forced me to
close my eyes. Darkness. Just before I’m about to hit the edge
of the slide, I think that I hear a snicker; this must be hilarious
to watch. 

The jagged edge of the playground slide hisses and groans as the top of
my chin meets the frozen metal. A violent surge boils inside;
starting from toes and works it’s way to a throbbing tantrum
underneath my chin. The last thing I remember, before everything
fades to blackness is the sound of the coins in my pocket, screaming
in joy as the bounced off the slide.
Cha-chink, cha-chink, cha-chink

"It’s nice to see someone brought their lunch-money.”