Page 102 of Choose the Bears

Kids came streaming onto the court in a great mass and my whistle was back at my lips when I saw a few from the same team squabbling over balls. For a moment, I thought I was going to have to intervene. Games either went awesomely or the same patterns of behaviour cropped up. Fears that they would never get their chance to play if they didn’t push others out of the way, that there was only enough fun to be had and you had to snatch yours or get none. But the other kids shouted out instructions and advice, counselling some of the potential malcontents out of their mindset and got them playing.

“Jenny is out!” I shouted as a green ball hit someone from the other side.

“Um…this person is out?” Imogen said, pointing to one of my boys.

“Peter, you’re out!” I jerked a thumb at the sidelines and while he looked pissed initially, he brightened up when I clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, mate.”

From then my focus narrowed down, trying to follow every pass of the ball, every attempt to recover them. Kids names were called out each time they were out, leaving a skittish handful.

“C’mon, green!” some of my team who were already out cried from the sidelines, and that got the others up and doing the same. Their own misery about getting out was set aside as they became part of something more.

Little Ava was sliding across the floor to avoid the trajectory of a red ball and one of the older kids dove forward, deciding to risk a catch. He held the ball up triumphantly when he succeeded, his face flush with victory. The red team member that threw the ball turned and marched off the field to join the rest, but it was close. We were down to three team members each when Imogen came to stand beside me.

“This is insane,” she said with a wild grin.

“Better than geeks playing with swords?” I asked.

“Different,” was all she would say, her eyes on the children. “But they love it, all of them. They’re having a ball…”

Her voice trailed away as a member of her team lobbed the ball high, like a volleyball serve and then it came spiking down. Ava was right in its path, darting to one side, then the other to get away from it, but she ended up lunging to the wrong side. The ball was going to hit her, and her mouth opened in a silent wail, right as one of the older boys leapt forward. He scooped her up and dropped her to the side, as the ball slammed into his chest.

“George is out!”

I didn’t want to say the words, but I had to. Any diversion from the rules created a seething web of jealousy and resentment, though if I had any concerns, I lost them as Georgejogged to the sidelines. One look from him made clear he’d sacrificed himself for the girl. I nodded back, the boy a teenager now, so too old for physical displays of affection, but a man’s regard? Yeah, he soaked that up. It was something I saw over and over, something we worked hard to grow, a protectiveness in the older boys in the group.

Because they knew exactly what would happen if they didn’t.

Each one had seen what damage a man could do if he chose to use his strength against those he cared about rather than to help them, and what we worked hard to present was another way. One where we men helped, supported, and protected the women and girls in our care, not hurt them. George held my gaze for some moments, then went and joined the other older boys, the lot of them conferring on the game, and I felt a warm flush of pride.

“And so are you,” Imogen added belatedly. “This is more than just having fun. This is a lesson.”

“The two things aren’t mutually exclusive, no matter what Asher will tell you. Kids learn best through fun.”

I stared at the court, dismissing another couple of children who got out, leaving only two remaining. Ava and one of the bigger boys from the red team, which had me stiffening.

Both stood as close to the centre line as they dared, but Ava’s fingers sank into the ball. She shifted restlessly, but I wondered at what she saw.

“C’mon, Ava!” my team cried from the sidelines, trying to encourage her, but I saw the shake in her arms when she raised the ball.

She was bracing herself to get hit, and that’s what had me marching forward. I hated to intervene in the game, but this… I couldn’t just stand by and watch her get taken down, but the other boy, Harry, did something I never would’ve expected, making my heart clench in my chest. Rather than usehis superior strength and reach, he held his arms wide. The red team shouted out theatrical boos, but there was no real animosity. We really had created a safe space, I realised, right as Ava lobbed the ball at Harry’s chest. He stepped into the throw, catching it square in the chest.

“Green wins…” Imogen said under her breath, but she rallied quickly. “Green wins!”

All the kids came rushing onto the court, sweeping up Ava and carrying her around on their shoulders. Her smile was everything, more surprise than anything. Her eyes were wide, not from fear, but that she couldn’t believe that’d just happened. I made Harry my focus, though. I cut through the kids and found myself offering him my hand.

“Good job, mate.”

My voice was all raspy, a big lump of emotion threatening to choke me there and then. All the while, he grinned.

“It’s just a game, right?” he said, shaking my hand firmly.

“Just a game,” I agreed, pulling him into one of those rough hugs we men excel at.

Sometime later, the kids were all gone to the next activity. When we were picking up the last of the balls, Imogen turned to me.

“You’re trying to break the cycle with this place, right?” She dropped a ball into the bag. “That’s what everything here is about. Not just providing a safe space for women and children, but?—”

“A place for men to learn to be strong without hurting others.” I nodded slowly. “Most days it feels like a drop in the ocean, but… the more time I spend around young men, the more I learn.” I carried the ball bags over to the storeroom. “Boys are actually more likely to cry when they’re really young than girls. Men are just as innately emotional as women, though perhapsin a different way. The trouble is they’re given so few legitimate means to express it.

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