In the middle of the huge grass covered field the villagers used for their cattle, 20 weary children circled a couple of trees. The old man guarding them looked half awake at best. His hat was drawn low, and his back bent to the side looking like it would fall off the tree any second now. Yet, despite all of this...
“Annie Thompson, 20 push-ups. Andrew Finn, 50.”
The old knight had eyes at the back of his head. If he caught you stopping, and he always did, you had to do push-ups. If you stopped doing pushups, he added sit-ups. And, if you didn’t do them all...
“Andrew Finn, you stopped at 14. Crawl on all fours, now!”
‘I was behind the tree, so how the hell did he count?’ While crawling on the wet grass and choking on crickets, Finn began his master plan.
“You can do it,” he whispered to Annie as he passed her by. He gave his best smile and even a thumbs up.
“Eat grass, Mchoo.” The girl was not impressed, but the day was still young.
“Great form, Tommy. Just a bit more, Michael. Don’t give up, Natalie.”
Finn’s words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. The responses ranged from “Leave me alone” to “Boo hoo Mchoo.”
At the end of the day, he had earned a new nickname and gained minus five percent progress. However, this was sports class and they were still angry.
‘It’s within expectations.’
On Monday, Finn stopped answering Martha’s questions and passed the info to his colleagues instead. He scribbled the ground a little to his sides, made notes out of leaves, anything he could to help his fellow students.
“What does the law on lethal force say?” asked the teacher.
“Miss Martha,” someone raised her hand. “Finn is cheating.”
‘Natalie, you snitch!’ For his efforts, Finn was rewarded with 20 laps around the trees.
Day two was a failure. For Tuesday and Thursday, he tried to make small talk instead. In the few precious minutes they had for recess, Finn had accumulated more outright rejection than in the past 30 years combined.
‘Damn, these brats,’ he chewed on his sleeve. ‘I hate you. I hate you all!’
Days three and four were failures.
Stolen story; please report.
On day five, Finn brought in the big guns: A basket full of boiled eggs from his father. He would have to clean after the chickens for a month and pave a path of 100 feet from the house to an artificial lake Joe was working on, but it was worth it.
“Thank you, Finn.” These words were like honey to his ears.
“Thanks.”
“Thank you.”
For a solid five minutes, everyone was smiling and friendly. However, by next recess, they started ignoring him again.
One liners like “Did you enjoy math class?” or “Can I help you with something?” were completely ignored. The kids would much rather play with sticks than give him the time of day.
Frustrated, angry, and dejected, as soon as class ended, Finn fell on his back in the grass. Even the clouds above seemed to mock him.
‘Why is that shaped like a dog? You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? A-hole God!’
Suddenly, a shadow fell on his face.
From afar, someone shouted “Tommy, are you coming?”
“In a bit,” the boy shouted back. He had soft eyes, a perfectly symmetrical face, and was the tallest in their group, Tommy Carlstone.
By Finn’s evaluation, he was strong in body, not so much in mind. But, for some bizarre reason, everyone liked him. If there was a popular kid in class, it was him.
Annoyed by the thought, Finn scoffed. “I’m out of eggs, Tommy. What do you want?”
The boy hesitated. He clenched his teeth along with his fists making Finn flinch. ‘He’s not going to punch me, is he?’
“You... You know math, don’t you Finn?”
“Huh?” Finn jumped to his feet. “That worked? I mean, of course I do. I’m the best at it.” ‘I know more math than your teacher’s teacher!’ Seeing Tommy hesitate, he added. “I can teach you if you want.”
“Really?” the boy’s face lit up.
“Yes, anytime anywhere. And all I ask in return is...”
After a long round of negotiations, a deal was struck. Finn would help the boy with his studies, and Tommy would help him “not be such a weak-legged, stick-in-the-mud, fuddy-duddy.”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the boy was second in class at language, so they spent the rest of the day working on his math.
'This is it,’ Finn told himself Friday morning after washing his face. Combat training was tomorrow, so this was his final shot. ‘If I can’t get them to like me now, they’ll hate me forever.’
Finn’s specialty had always been numbers. Perhaps, if he had studied psychology instead, he would have realized that his panic and thought process were unbecoming of an adult. Despite all of his grown-up memories, his body was of a five-year-old, and his mind was part of that body.
He arrived early at school determined to grab hold of any opportunity he could. Surprisingly, Tommy and most of his classmates were already there.
“Finn!” the boy waved towards him. “We’re making teams. Let’s go.”
Although the other kids looked at him funny, they did not oppose Tommy’s decision. His smile was so bright it could cover the entire grass field, and not even the bruise on his cheek could hide it.
“Hey,” Finn almost stumbled forward. “Are you ready for class?”
“Grab a stick. We’re playing pirates.”
“Huh? Shouldn’t we prepare for class?”
“No!” Natalie shouted while clenching her fists. “Party pooper, Finchoo Mchoo!” She showed him her tongue and Tommy pulled her back.
“Pirates now, school later.” He handed Finn a stick with his trademark smile. “If you don’t want to be tied to a tree, you should play the mute.”
“But, what about...”
“Shut up.”
“But, …"
“Mutes don’t talk. That’s the... the defff... the...”
“The definition."
“Yes, so shut up and listen to your captain.”
By the end of the day, Tommy would prove himself one hell of a captain, and Finn would learn the value of silence.