Three days later was the final day of kindergarten. There was no actual teaching done that day. Instead, we would be spending the day doing contests and having a picnic. Mom couldn’t come—she couldn’t miss work due to an important project she was working on. Instead, Grandpa Joe came along with Dad and his parents.

I got dropped off in the morning at the usual time. There was an air of excitement that permeated everyone and everything. I could feel the energy buzzing through my classmates as we went about our tasks to set up everything for the events.

My first task—along with three other classmates—was to carefully carry several plastic folding tables outside. It was not a hard task on its face, but it was made all the more difficult having been handed to four young children. As the tables were relatively heavy, it took all of us working together to move each of them, and that was where the problem lay. Coordinating efforts with them was impossible. Everyone wanted to be the leader and it devolved into a three-way argument—I stayed out of it, not wanting to make the situation worse. Eventually, we were able to settle on someone and get all of the tables outside, even if it took three times longer than it should have.

The next task was folding chairs. At least this time, they were light enough to be carried one-at-a-time by one person. This took about as long to do as the first task, but at least there wasn’t any arguing—I did end up doing far more than my share just to get it all done more quickly. Then it was on to putting a table cloth over each—along with more arguing. Finally, the teacher helped bring many boxes filled with small pies of various flavors for the pie-eating contest.

I looked over the field. There was our station for the pie-eating contest, lanes for sack races and three-legged races, and more tables and chairs for the picnic. There were even some coolers by the picnic tables that I hoped would be filled with ice pops and not soda pops.

Then the families started arriving. Dad arrived with Grandpa Milton and Grandma Rose a few minutes before Grandpa Joe. I welcomed them and we chatted for a while before the time for the contests to begin. I decided to do the three-legged race with Dad, but otherwise all of the events were me against my classmates. Just as I made my way to the first event—the sack race—I got a notification from the system.

A Day at the Races

Compete in all of the contests

Success: Experience gained based on placement in each contest

Failure: N/A

Expires: N/A

I shook the notification away with a thought and joined the rest of my class at the field. The teacher took a minute to go over the rules.

“Whoever’s participating, take one of the sacks and put both feet in it,” she said.

“And yes, Zack, that means you’ll need to hop,” she added when one of the boys raised his hand and asked the obvious question. “I’ll come around to help if you need it.”

I procured a burlap sack from the pile off to the side. I put my legs inside and held it in both hands so it wouldn’t fall down. The rough and scratchy material was rather unpleasant against my skin. I waited as the teacher checked over everyone’s preparations.

My family watched from the hill overlooking the soccer field where all the races were being held. I waved to them and they waved back—some more enthusiastically than others.

“Ok,” the teacher said. “Is everyone ready?”

“Yeah!” came the reply from many voices.

“On your marks. Get set. Go!”

I hopped forward as best I could. It was slow going, but I was doing alright compared with most of the class. Two of the girls and one of the boys absolutely ate grass before the half-way mark. And I mean mouth fully open when face-planting into the turf. That was a novel way to get a serving of vegetables. Good for the diet! I suppressed a chuckle and continued on.

One of the girls—Mia—cheated by only having the sack around one leg instead of both. She crossed the line first but was disqualified for it after several other finishers made a stink about it. I came in 8th—7th once Mia was disqualified. A little better than half of the class, but not the top either. I wasn’t overly athletic, but the training I’d done since I’d gone back in time had helped a bit.

I cheered on the stragglers until everyone had crossed the finish-line. It wasn’t so much that I actually cared, but I needed to act and fit in so as not to raise too many suspicions before I left them all behind. A little acting was less of a hassle than dealing with uncomfortable questions later.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Forrester said, “why don’t you go find the adult you’re going to run the three-legged race with?”

There was a mad dash as a bunch of kids scattered towards their families. I took my time as there was really no rush. I’d rather have the energy to run the race to the best of my ability and get the most points I could than get to the starting line before everyone else.

“Ready to kick some butt, Eddy?” Dad asked.

“You bet!” I smiled.

As Dad tied the strip of cloth around our legs, I considered balancing on one foot on top of his foot so he could run as fast as he could. I might win that way, but I also would risk getting disqualified. Like with picking up Dad for the race, I decided to be a bit more cautious. Experience was experience, and I’d rather have some than none.

Even so, there were a few things we could do within the rules and spirit of the race. The first was to act like there were three legs and not four by putting my foot on top of Dad’s. The second was for Dad to hold my right hand with his right hand. Despite having to cross over his body, that longer distance meant it would be easier for him to keep me steady as we ran.

The teacher explained the rules for the race while I peered down the starting-line at the other racers. Most of my classmates had their parents, but some had a grandparent or even a teacher for a couple of them whose families couldn’t make it. Then it was time to run!

I kicked off the ground with my left foot at the same time as Dad did so with his right. The shared central leg shot forward and I became a passenger sailing through the air on Leg Express. When the middle leg hit the ground, I was very glad to be holding onto Dad’s arm as he helped me stay upright.

We got the rhythm pretty quickly and crossed the finish-line in first place. Dad had always been fast and athletic, so he was able to more than make up for my shortcomings. I gave him a high five and bent to undo the knot binding our legs together.

“That was awesome!” I gushed.

“Yeah, it was,” Dad agreed. “What’s next?”

“Pie-eating, I think?”

“Good luck with that one. How do you think that one’ll go?”

“I’ve only done it maybe twice before so not great. You know how coordinated I am normally…”

Dad laughed and slapped my back.

“I also know how much you enjoy sweets so you’ll find a way.”

“Hmm,” I answered noncommittally.

I followed the crowd of other children to the tables I’d helped set up. I picked an empty chair to sit down in. Soon enough, a teacher came over.

“What kind of pie do you want?” the teacher asked. “Strawberry, blueberry, lemon…”

“Blueberry,” I answered.

Blueberry was not my favorite kind of pie—that was probably apple or maybe peach—but I did enjoy it the most of the options I’d heard. The teacher nodded and soon came back with a blueberry pie for me. It was rather small—perhaps the equivalent of a single slice of a normal-sized pie—but still round and looked like a miniature version of a whole regular pie.

“Welcome to the pie eating contest!” Mrs. Forrester exclaimed. “In front of each of you is a pie. Without using your hands…”

I eyed the pie and considered my strategy while Mrs. Forrester continued her explanation. I wasn’t sure the best way to go about it, but I figured the worst option was to just go ham at the middle of the pie. As such, I decided to go from the outside in—or at least one side to the other. I doubted I’d have much control once the contest started.

“…get set. Go!”

I dropped my head down so that it was level with the pie to take the first bite from one edge. The pie was average. I wouldn’t say it was amazing, but at the same time, it wasn’t terrible either. I didn’t pause to taste—I chewed just enough and swallowed before taking the next bite.

As I got deeper into the pie—while ignoring the commentary in the background—I found that I had to do less and less chewing. The soft inner filling went down easily with minimal effort, my mouth acting like a disassembly line.

The pie tin became more and more unwieldy the further I got into the pie. Past the half-way mark, I had trouble taking a bite without moving it. By the time I was almost done, I had to force my face into the mess to keep the remainder of the pie steady enough to take the next bite. Eventually, though, I finished as much as I could and raised my hand.

“Done!” I yelled.

One of the teachers—the same man who had given me the pie—came over to ensure that I was, in fact, done. When he verified that I was, he noted it and my time. I wasn’t in first place, but I had come in a respectable third.

I cleaned off my face with a towel and glanced at the notification that appeared in front of my face.

A Day at the Races Complete

Reward: 130 Exp

I didn’t see an explanation for why the number was what it was, but I hadn’t expected it either. I imagined that would be another feature or feature modification to purchase. Annoying, of course, but little I could do about it without derailing my plans too much. I stuck the idea in the back of my head for when I had more experience to spend and nothing else to use it for.

Following the competitions, I sat on the hill with my family and ate lunch. We talked about nothing important—I still hadn’t decided to bring Dad’s parents into the secret cabal—but it was pleasant and relaxing. Eventually, I had to wish my grandparents farewell and Dad took me home for the afternoon. We spent the rest of the day watching movies and hanging out.

As I climbed the stairs in the evening, I considered what I would face next. As it stood, school was over and I had the summer off. That meant I had plenty of time for testing the features I’d unlocked as well as some longer-term projects. First on that list was to do something with what I’d been writing. Grandpa Joe had given the ok on releasing it, but I was hesitant. It was just alright, but it might do better with a bit of marketing behind it—and if I was going to spend some cash on marketing, it’d be better to wait until I had unlocked the rest of the experience series of features so that I could take advantage of the extra experience.