Page 101 of Choose the Bears

There was playing games, and then there was dodgeball. I grinned as I waved everyone over, the kids already hyped. Imogen looked considerably less so, but that would change.

“OK, we need to go through the rules again to make sure we’re all on the same page,” I said. “What do we not do?”

“Throw a ball at someone’s head,” one of the kids said. “If you do, you’re out.”

“And where do you go if you’re out?” I asked.

“Against the wall or picking up dead balls. You can’t go back on the field,” the group answered, their responses well practised.

“That’s right. If me or Miss Imogen say you’re out, you need to go instantly. If someone else reckons you’re out, you need to tell us, and we’ll make a ruling and…”

“Your word is law,” the kids said.

“That’s right.” I blew into my whistle. “What does that mean?”

“Stop on the spot,” one kid said.

“Don’t throw any more balls.”

That was Scott, his expression a little rueful, because he’d been ruled out for doing just that.

“Alright, let’s play nice so everyone has some fun. Green team, we’ll have a little team meeting.” I shot Imogen a look full of theatrical menace. “We need to crush the reds, so we’re going to talk strategy.”

“Crush the reds!” my kids chanted, and I left a somewhat bemused Imogen to deal with an equally martial group of kids. She recovered quickly, making clear she had her eyes on me with a gesture of her fingers. That was OK, as long as I had her attention. That was what mattered.

It was tempting to think about it, this morning, last night, yesterday. My mind was still trying to grasp it. Imogen was my mate, I’d adapted to that, but… She said yes. I glanced at her with a triumphant look backwards, knowing now that no matter how this game went, I’d won. Every day I spent around her was some kind of victory.

But I didn’t mind complementing that with a win on the gym floor.

“OK, huddle up, huddle up,” I told the kids, and they clustered closer with conspiratorial giggles. “We need to wipe the floor with the reds.”

“Crush them!” one of the girls said, pounding her fists on her chest. I’d have to have them running laps after this to burn through some energy, but this was why I did this. Not to inspire blood thirsty rage in children, but… to give them a chance to play, have fun, be kids and provide them a safe space for just that.

“So, we can’t actually crush them, remember?”

The kids all nodded dutifully, remembering the rules of play, because the first time I’d taken a bunch of children for a game, it hadn’t gone well. I’d underestimated the sense of justice in some kids. Kept stuffed down by their home environment it’d comeroaring back in the gym and several kids got into a dust up over it. Elodie was forced to have a long talk with me about how to manage the situation.

“It isn’t about removing all risk,” she’d said when I admitted defeat and wanted to cancel the whole thing. “These are kids that are hurting, but they still are children. What they need is what was lacking when their dads were around. Calm, predictable, but also expert adult supervision. One that anticipates the problems that will absolutely crop up and has a response prepared for them.” She shot me meaningful look. “That’s your job.”

“This is about having a good time and working together,” I told the kids now. “So we need to play fair and not hurt anyone. Alright, what’s our strategy?”

The older kids moved in then, providing advice and discussing the various strengths of our team members. One of the little kids was like a weasel, not able to throw especially hard, but no ball would ever land on her. An older kid would shadow them as the smaller one grabbed the ball, then toss it to the thrower who would try and get someone else on the other team out.

This is why we played the game. It was simple, raucous, and allowed the kids a chance to run around and howl like animals if only for a little while. It was the collaborative play that was the best part of the whole game, though. They learned quickly that by playing as a member of a team, they could succeed, and that was the most important thing.

“Red team, are you ready?” I asked, and Imogen shot me a determined nod. “Miss Imogen and I are going to put the balls out and then we can get started.”

The kids started to shout, but I only heard her voice when she joined me by the pile of balls.

“What do we get if my team wins this?” she asked me with a sly smile.

“Satisfaction,” I replied. “Bragging rights. You, of course,” I tugged her closer, “get anything you want, but you don’t have to win the game to get that.” I liked the flush in her cheeks so much I was always thinking of new ways to inspire that. “And if I win?”

“I’ll do something you’ll really like.”

Her teasing tone, her lingering look made me suddenly uncomfortable. I was in a gym full of kids, so thinking naughty thoughts was totally not appropriate, but they came anyway. I had a lifetime of fantasies stuck in my head and had just been waiting for the chance to act them out, though now was not the time. I tucked them back inside my head and then walked across the court. Red balls were lined up on one side of the centre line, green ones on the other.

“Everyone ready?” I asked, watching the kids form lines on either side. My team fell into a loose pattern based on our plan, so I turned to Imogen and raised an eyebrow. She nodded and then we stepped free of the playing field, and I blew the whistle that unleashed hell.

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