Palm to Palm

"We were playing two games that lunchtime. Everyone could see the one across the playground. Only Jamie and I knew about the other."

The schoolyard hummed with anticipation.

A palpable energy crackled through the air as dozens of children gathered for what had become the highlight of their lunch break. The sun beat down with the particular intensity of a South Australian winter noon — bright and insistent despite the season's chill, turning the asphalt into a shimmering mirage and casting stark shadows across the playground.

What had started weeks ago as a simple game of chase with just six participants had evolved into something else entirely. A sprawling, complex affair involving nearly fifty students from across all grades. It was more than just a game now. It was a phenomenon. A daily ritual that brought together the entire school in a thrilling dance of pursuit and evasion.

The air was thick with the scent of sun-warmed grass and the acrid tang of sweat. The usual cacophony of playground noise had died down to a tense murmur. Bodies coiled with potential energy. Ready to explode into motion at a moment's notice.

Eyes darted nervously from face to face. Alliances forming and breaking in the blink of an eye as each child tried to gauge who would be their pursuer and who their ally in the excitement to come. Yesterday's friend could be today's hunter. Today's partner could become tomorrow's predator. That was the nature of the game. That was why it thrilled us.

"One. Two. Three."

Tarlee's voice rang out, clear and steady. Each number sent a jolt of electricity through the assembled crowd. Her words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with promise and threat.

Tarlee stood at the centre of it all. Her eyes closed. Her face a mask of concentration as she counted. She was both ringmaster and executioner, her count marking the last moments of freedom for those gathered around her. The countdown to chaos.

"Quick, run!" Bethany shouted. Her voice tinged with both fear and exhilaration.

The words were like a starting pistol.

A multitude of legs scrambled in every direction. The stillness of the moment before shattered, replaced by a chaotic flurry of motion and sound. Bodies collided. Sneakers scrabbled for purchase on the unforgiving asphalt. The air filled with a cacophony of shouts, laughter, and the thunderous pounding of dozens of feet.

"Four. Five."

Tarlee continued. Her countdown inexorable. Each number bringing us closer to the chaos about to unfold. Her voice seemed to echo across the playground — a countdown to destiny that sent shivers down my spine.

I turned to Jamie.

My heart was already beginning to race. His presence beside me was a comfort. A constant in the whirlwind of motion around us. Our eyes met for a brief moment — a silent communication passing between us. In that instant, I saw my own mix of fear and excitement mirrored in his expression.

"Come on," I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along as we started running with the crowd.

The feel of his skin against mine sent a jolt through me. A reminder of the unfinished conversation that still hung between us. The words he'd started to say on the trampoline, six days ago now, that Paul's arrival had scattered like startled birds. The mystery of it had been nagging at me ever since — a splinter in my mind that I couldn't stop touching.

"Six. Seven."

Tarlee's voice faded into the distance as we ran. But its echo seemed to follow us, spurring us on. Each number was a heartbeat. A breath. Bringing us closer to the moment when the hunter would be unleashed.

As we ran, following the scurry of the crowd, I felt a sudden urge to break away. To carve our own path. The press of bodies around us was suffocating. The panic in the air almost tangible.

I tugged at Jamie's arm, pulling him closer so I could be heard over the commotion.

"Let's go this way," I said, pointing towards the back of the school grounds. My voice was barely audible over the pounding of feet and ragged breathing, but Jamie nodded. Understanding my intent without need for further explanation.

It was a risk, going it alone. But I was hoping for some quiet time.

The memory of our interrupted conversation on the trampoline still nagged at me. Luke, you are my best friend. But there's something that... I mean, sometimes I wonder if... And then nothing. Paul's voice booming from the doorway. The moment evaporating before I could grasp it.

I was determined to find out what Jamie had wanted to tell me. Even in the midst of this chaotic game. This might be my only chance — a few stolen minutes hidden from the world, just the two of us.

Besides, there were some thick bushes at the back of the oval that would give us plenty of time to hide out. They also made it clearly obvious when someone was approaching, giving us a strategic advantage. We could watch the whole game unfold from a position of safety, emerging only when necessary.

As we changed course, I couldn't help but marvel at the scene unfolding around us.

Bodies continued to scramble in all directions. A chaotic ballet of flight and pursuit. Some were headed to the buildings on the far left end of the school, seeking refuge in the maze of corridors and classrooms. Their figures grew smaller as they ran, disappearing into the shadows cast by the looming structures.

Others made for the playground on the right, knowing that the equipment would make it more challenging for a chaser to catch their prey — especially if they climbed to the top of the monkey bars. The metal frames gleamed in the sunlight, a jungle gym transformed into a fortress of last resort.

And yet others were headed toward the maze of single classroom buildings scattered more centrally, backing onto the edge of the oval. These squat, prefabricated structures offered a labyrinth of hiding places. Their identical facades created a disorienting landscape perfect for losing pursuers. The spaces between them were narrow and shadowy, promising concealment but also the risk of being cornered.

The game had evolved far beyond its humble origins.

What began as a simple game of chase had morphed into the extreme madness of gang-up chase. Once a person was tagged as 'it', the tagger also remained 'it'. Small groups would form and work collaboratively to trap and tag others. This continued to build until ultimately, one person would be left trying to outrun and outsmart fifty students.

It was a test of endurance, strategy, and sheer will.

The rules of the game mirrored the complexities of the world we were growing into. A world where alliances shifted. Where the hunters could become the hunted in the blink of an eye. It was a microcosm of society, played out on the unforgiving stage of the schoolyard. And like the world beyond the school gates, it was a game where the stakes seemed to grow higher with each passing day.

Jamie and I ran through the middle of a small soccer match. The players barely spared us a glance as we disrupted their game. The ball rolled away, forgotten, as the players abandoned their match to join the larger game unfolding around them.

We made a beeline for the thicket of bushes at the far end of the oval. Our feet pounded against the grass in perfect sync. The rhythm of our steps matched the frantic beating of my heart — a percussive soundtrack to our flight.

As we reached the bushes and ducked inside, I felt a rush of exhilaration.

The centre was getting rather hollowed out from the many times the bushes had played the role of disguising hiding students. Perfect. A sanctuary carved by the bodies of previous refugees, now waiting to shelter us.

The leaves closed around us, shutting out the chaos of the schoolyard and enveloping us in a world of green-tinted light and the earthy scent of crushed vegetation. We huddled closer together, our breath coming in short gasps as we tried to quiet our panting.

I pulled back one of the branches slightly. Just enough to peek through.

The schoolyard stretched out before us like a battlefield of laughing, running children. From our vantage point, the chaos took on a strange, dreamlike quality. Figures darted back and forth. Their movements jerky and unpredictable, like marionettes controlled by an unseen puppeteer.

"There's Tarlee," I whispered, spotting our initial pursuer. "She must be finished counting already."

Jamie leaned in close. His breath warm against my ear as he asked, "Is she chasing anyone?"

The proximity sent a shiver down my spine. A reaction I couldn't quite explain but that seemed to heighten my already razor-sharp awareness of our surroundings. Of him. Of the space between us that felt simultaneously too large and not large enough.

I squinted, trying to make out the details of the chase unfolding before us. The sunlight glinting off the asphalt created a dazzling, disorienting effect, making it hard to focus on any one point for too long.

"Yes. I think she has just caught Amy!" I said, watching as Tarlee tagged one of our classmates.

Amy's face fell as Tarlee's hand made contact. Her shoulders slumped in defeat before she turned — transformed in an instant from prey to predator.

"And now they've got Ryan too!"

Jamie's body tensed beside me. The sudden rigidity of his muscles communicated his alarm more clearly than words ever could.

"We're in trouble now," he warned. His voice low and urgent. "Ryan knows this spot well. He's bound to head this way soon."

The fear in his voice was contagious. Sending a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I considered this for a moment. Weighing our options. The sanctuary of the bushes suddenly felt less secure, as if the leaves themselves might betray our presence at any moment.

"I'm not so sure about that," I argued. My mind racing through possible scenarios. "He knows we'd be able to see him approaching. It's too wide a space. I doubt he'd come here without reinforcements."

Jamie nodded. Accepting my logic.

His trust in my judgment sent a warm glow of pride through me. Tempering the cold edge of fear. He believed me. Believed in my ability to read the game, to assess the threats, to keep us safe. That trust felt like a gift I hadn't known I wanted until it was given.

"Let's hope so. Maybe we should head towards the buildings," he suggested. Always ready with an alternative plan.

"Wait a little longer," I prompted. Not quite ready to give up our sanctuary.

The idea of venturing out into the open — exposing ourselves to the hunters that roamed the schoolyard — made my stomach churn with anxiety. But more than that, I wasn't ready to leave this moment. This closeness. This opportunity.

"Okay," came the agreement. Jamie's trust in me evident in his quick acquiescence.

We hadn't done much running yet, but our hearts were beating fast nonetheless. Our breathing had picked up pace. The adrenaline was setting in — a heady mixture of fear and excitement coursing through our veins. We would need it if we were to survive to the end.

The air in our leafy hideout felt thick and close. Heavy with the scent of crushed vegetation and our own nervous sweat. Green light filtered through the leaves, dappling Jamie's face with shifting patterns. Making him look like something from a dream.

As we crouched there, hidden from view yet acutely aware of the game unfolding around us, I felt a sudden urge to broach the subject that had been playing on my mind.

The relative quiet of our hiding spot. The intimacy of our shared concealment. The way we were pressed together in this small space, our shoulders touching, our breath mingling. It seemed to create the perfect opportunity.

"Jamie," I began. My voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember the other day, when Paul and I came over your place?"

Jamie's eyes were still fixated on the gap in the branches. Ever vigilant for approaching threats. His profile was etched against the green-tinted light filtering through the leaves. His features sharp and focused.

"Yeah, of course I do," he replied. His tone casual but with an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite place.

There was a tension in his jaw. A tightness around his eyes that belied his nonchalant response. He remembered. Of course he remembered. The question was whether he would finally tell me what he'd been about to say.

I took a deep breath. Steeling myself.

The air seemed to grow thicker. Charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the game raging beyond our hiding place. My heart was pounding again, but not from the running. From something else. From the weight of the question I was about to ask.

"You were going to tell me something," I paused. Searching for the right words.

The silence stretched between us. Fraught with the potential for misunderstanding. The sounds of the playground seemed to fade — the shouts and laughter becoming distant, irrelevant, as the world contracted to the small green space we shared.

"Do you remember what it was?" I asked cautiously. My heart rate picking up for reasons that had nothing to do with our current game of chase.

Jamie looked at me then.

His gaze was intense and unreadable. His eyes, usually so open and expressive, seemed to hold depths I'd never noticed before. Brown eyes in green light, watching me with an attention that made me feel seen in a way I rarely felt seen. Not by teachers, not by parents, not by anyone except Jamie.

"Yep. I still remember," he said. His voice soft but charged with an emotion I couldn't decipher.

My heart leapt. He remembered. He was going to tell me. Finally, I would know—

"What—" I began.

But before I could finish my question, we were interrupted by Ben. He forced his way to the edge of the bush, bursting through the leafy barrier like a charging bull. Leaves and twigs caught in his hair and clothes. He was panting heavily, his face flushed with exertion, his eyes wild with the thrill of the chase.

I jumped at the sudden intrusion. Raising my arms instinctively in defence.

The moment between Jamie and me shattered. The opportunity for revelation lost in the chaos of the game. Again. Just like on the trampoline. Just like every time we seemed to get close to something, someone or something intervened.

"Are you 'it' yet?" I asked. My voice sharp with surprise and a hint of frustration at the interrupted moment.

The words came out harsher than I'd intended. My disappointment at the lost opportunity bleeding into my tone.

Ben shook his head. Gulping air. His chest heaved with each breath, his words coming out in staccato bursts between gasps.

"No. But Melanie is now. Her and Graeme were after me. I managed to sneak away and ran along the side fence and across behind the cricket fences," he explained.

His eyes darted nervously over his shoulder, as if expecting his pursuers to materialise at any moment.

Before we could respond, a shout rang out from the other side of the oval.

"Run! They're coming!"

The voice was getting closer. Panic evident in its tone. It cut through the relative quiet of our hideout like a knife, shattering any illusion of safety we might have harboured.

"Run! They're coming!" it shouted again. The words echoing across the schoolyard like a clarion call.

Jamie reacted first.

He rolled out from under the bush and stood up in one fluid motion. His reflexes, honed by years of sports and outdoor play, never ceased to amaze me. While I was still processing the shout, he was already on his feet, already assessing, already preparing.

"It's Naomi," he announced. His voice tight with tension.

Ben and I followed suit. Scrambling to our feet and standing next to Jamie. The relative safety of our hiding spot was compromised. It was time to move.

The sudden exposure left me feeling vulnerable. My skin prickling with the awareness of unseen eyes watching us from every corner of the schoolyard.

"Naomi, what are you doing?" Jamie yelled as she approached.

His voice was a mixture of confusion and annoyance. There were about six kids close on her heels — a pack of pursuers gaining ground with every step. They moved as one. A single organism driven by the primal urge to chase, to catch, to conquer.

"They're coming!" Naomi continued to yell. Her eyes wide with panic.

Her face was a mask of terror. All rational thought seemingly driven out by the fear of capture. She ran towards us blindly. Heedless of the danger she was bringing to our doorstep.

"Well, don't bring them up here!" Jamie shouted back.

But it was too late.

Naomi was now only ten metres away. She'd led the host of chasers right to our hiding place. The thundering of feet grew louder. The excited shouts of the pursuers filling the air with a cacophony of triumph and threat.

I felt a surge of determination course through me. Pushing aside the fear that threatened to paralyse me. We'd been flushed from cover. So be it. We would run. We would survive. We would find another moment.

"We can do this," I said defiantly. My mind already racing with potential escape routes.

The odds were against us, but I refused to give up without a fight.

"Oh, and don't get too close to Naomi. You never know, she could be 'it' too."

The warning came automatically. A product of years spent navigating the treacherous waters of schoolyard games and shifting alliances.

Jamie and I both began taking small steps back. Our bodies tense and ready to sprint. Every muscle coiled, ready to explode into action at a moment's notice.

Ben, in a moment of misplaced bravery or sheer stupidity, stood his ground. He faced the oncoming horde like a soldier preparing for his last stand. His chin lifted in defiance.

"Naomi, are you 'it'?" Ben called out. His voice wavering slightly.

The question hung in the air. Unanswered and almost comically irrelevant in the face of the approaching mob.

"They're coming!" was the continued response.

Naomi's single-minded focus on escape overriding any sense of strategy or cooperation. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. Fixed on some point beyond us as she ran blindly towards what she perceived as safety.

Ben didn't move. Seemingly paralysed by indecision.

I couldn't help but let out an audible snicker. Some people were so thick. The adrenaline was making me uncharacteristically judgmental. In that moment, Ben seemed to embody every foolish decision I'd ever witnessed on the playground.

As the pack of chasers bore down on us, I knew we had only seconds to act.

The world seemed to slow down. Each heartbeat stretching into an eternity as I weighed our options. The thundering feet. The shouting voices. Jamie beside me, coiled and ready. Ben frozen in front of us. Naomi bearing down like a herald of doom.

In that moment of crystal clarity, I made my decision.

"Now!" I yelled, giving Jamie a firm push to the right as I turned and faced left.

We bolted in opposite directions. A pre-planned manoeuvre we had perfected over countless games. The chaos would be our cover. Splitting up would divide their forces. It was our best chance.

The sudden burst of speed was exhilarating.

The wind whipped past my face as I sprinted away from the approaching horde. I could hear the shouts of surprise and frustration behind me as our unexpected move threw the chasers into momentary confusion.

My legs pumped furiously. Each step carrying me further from danger and deeper into the heart of the schoolyard.

Behind me, I heard it happen.

Ben stood there, confused, as Naomi reached him. She outstretched her arms as far as possible and, before he had a chance to react, shoved Ben in the chest.

"Tag! You're 'it'," she shouted triumphantly.

Her relief was palpable in the air. The words rang out across the playground — a death knell for Ben's freedom and a reprieve for Naomi.

That was the last I heard as I sprinted away. My legs pumping furiously as I put distance between myself and the chaos behind me. The gang had stopped when they reached Ben, catching their breath and considering their next strategic move. I used this moment of respite to push myself harder.

The schoolyard blurred around me as I ran. Familiar landmarks distorting into a surreal landscape of colour and shadow. The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears, drowning out the shouts and laughter of my classmates.

In that moment, the world narrowed to a singular focus: survive, evade, escape.

I continued to run along the back fence. My lungs burning with the effort. The metal links of the fence flashed by in my peripheral vision — a reminder of the boundaries that hemmed us in, even in our wildest moments of freedom.

Risking a quick glance back, I saw Jamie doing the exact same in the opposite direction. A flicker of pride surged through me at the sight of him. His lanky form eating up the distance with long, graceful strides.

I sighed.

A mixture of relief at our successful escape and frustration at another missed opportunity to learn what Jamie had wanted to tell me. The mystery of his unspoken words nagged at me, even as I focused on the immediate challenge of staying uncaught.

It was as if two games were being played simultaneously. The physical chase unfolding across the schoolyard. And a more subtle, emotional pursuit that existed solely between Jamie and me.

As frustrating as that was, I was in a stubborn mood.

Sport wasn't really my thing. My body was small, still carrying the legacy of those early years in hospital — the thinness, the lack of muscle development, the general sense that my physical form was something I endured rather than inhabited. But I was competitive at pretty much everything I did. And I wasn't about to let myself get caught.

Besides, I wanted to show Jamie that although I was a lot smaller, I was still capable of keeping up with his athleticism. The desire to prove myself — to show that I was worthy of whatever secret he wanted to share — drove me forward with renewed determination.

Reaching the far corner of the schoolyard, I turned right and continued jogging down the school fence line. The change in direction brought a fresh wave of air to my burning lungs. A momentary relief that spurred me on.

This would lead me past the smaller rectangular oval, where I knew I could find respite at the spot where it connected with the building that ran along the length of the smaller oval.

My eyes scanned the area ahead. Searching for potential threats and escape routes. The playground had transformed into a battlefield. Each piece of equipment, each shadow, holding the potential for either sanctuary or danger. The usual carefree atmosphere of lunch break had been replaced by a tense, electric energy.

Finally, I was far enough along to make my move.

I cut across the oval. My eyes fixed on the sanctuary of the building's wall. The expanse of open ground felt endless, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. Each step across the grass felt like an eternity, my body screaming for the safety of solid walls and deep shadows.

As I reached it, I halted a little too quickly.

My momentum carried me forward, causing my shoulder to scrape against the rough surface. I winced. Massaging my shoulder and lifting my short sleeve to check for any damage.

It looked red, but at least it wasn't bleeding. The sting of the scrape was a small price to pay for the relative safety I'd achieved.

Focus returning, I crept along the wall until I reached the corner.

I peered around. My heart pounding as I checked for any nearby chasers. This was always one of the quietest places in the school, and this lunch period was no exception.

There was nobody in sight.

The absence of other students was both a relief and a source of unease. While it meant I was safe for the moment, it also amplified every small sound. Making me acutely aware of my own ragged breathing and pounding heart.

I pressed my back up against the wall and took a few deep breaths. Relishing the moment of relative safety.

The rough brick scraped against my back through my thin shirt — a tactile reminder of my tenuous sanctuary. I had learned that hiding right up against a building corner was one of the best strategies. A chaser would usually be too busy running to pay any attention. They'd run right past, giving me time to run in the direction they just came from before they even realised I was there.

As I stood there, catching my breath and gathering my thoughts, I couldn't help but reflect on the game and what it had come to mean to all of us.

It was more than just a way to pass the lunch hour. It had become a microcosm of our lives. A daily adventure that allowed us to test our limits, form alliances, and experience the thrill of both pursuit and evasion. In many ways, it mirrored the larger world we were growing into. A world of shifting loyalties, hidden dangers, and the constant need to stay one step ahead.

But even as I revelled in the excitement of the game, a part of me longed for something more.

The unfinished conversation with Jamie nagged at me. A mystery that seemed far more significant than any schoolyard chase. What had he wanted to tell me? Why did it feel so important? Why did the words but there's something that... echo in my mind at odd moments, pulling at me like a thread attached to something deeper?

I let a few minutes pass.

My mind torn between the immediate concerns of the game and the deeper questions that lurked beneath the surface. I hoped Jamie hadn't been caught yet. The thought of him still out there, evading capture, brought a smile to my face.

A part of me was tempted to turn the corner and sneak past the quadrangle that separated this building from its parallel neighbour. To head towards the small utilities shed near the sandpit.

But I resisted the urge. It was no fun hiding alone. And somehow, I felt that whatever Jamie had to tell me, we needed to face it together.

Instead, I decided to backtrack. To try and find my way back to Jamie.

The decision filled me with a mix of anticipation and dread. On one hand, the prospect of reuniting with Jamie — of finally uncovering the mystery of his unspoken words — sent a thrill of excitement through me. On the other, leaving my safe haven meant exposing myself to the dangers that lurked in the playground beyond.

I jogged back along the length of the building. Checking briefly for any sign of chasers before darting across the walkway to the safety of the first standalone classroom.

This was the German room. A place that held its own set of memories and associations. The faint smell of chalk and old books wafted from an open window — a scent that always transported me to another world of unfamiliar words and sounds.

I continued along its length until I reached the narrow dirt pathway that separated it from its adjacent standalone classroom.

As I made my way down the pathway, I felt a surge of anticipation. Something told me that Jamie would be nearby. That our paths were destined to cross again. It was more than just wishful thinking. It was an instinct. A pull that I couldn't explain but couldn't ignore.

Reaching the end of the pathway, I paused.

My eyes scanned the area beyond the overgrown garden that separated me from the main playground. The foliage provided a green veil, obscuring my view but also offering protection from prying eyes.

And there he was.

Jamie. Sprinting at the far end of the playground with chasers hot on his heels. His trajectory would bring him straight past me on the other side of the garden.

In that moment, I knew what I had to do.

I couldn't let Jamie face this alone. We were in this together. Not just in the game, but in whatever lay beyond it. The unspoken words. The interrupted moments. The feeling that something was building between us, something that needed to be said, something that kept getting pushed aside by the intrusions of the world.

I had to do something.

The decision crystallised in my mind. Pushing aside all thoughts of self-preservation. This was about more than just winning a game. It was about loyalty. Friendship.

I jogged to the end of the garden. My mind racing as I calculated the timing. It had to be perfect. Everything depended on this moment.

The world seemed to slow down around me. Each second stretching into an eternity as I waited for the right moment to act.

"Now!" I instructed myself.

My legs exploded into action before my mind could second-guess the decision. I sprinted as fast as my short legs would carry me. Pushing myself to my absolute limit. The ground flew by beneath my feet. The air rushing past my face as I hurtled towards Jamie's path.

As soon as I left my place of safety, I realised someone had been watching me from the other side.

When I reached the edge of the garden, I sidestepped as Brett launched himself at me. His fingers almost grazing my shirt as I narrowly escaped his grasp.

My heart was pounding. A mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through my veins. The near miss sent a jolt of adrenaline surging through my system, sharpening my senses and spurring me to even greater speed.

Jamie had caught sight of me from the corner of his eye.

His face lit up with recognition and something else. Relief, perhaps. Or a deeper emotion I couldn't quite name. We were on a collision course. Our paths converging in a moment that felt both inevitable and fraught with possibility.

The chaos of the playground faded into the background as my world narrowed to Jamie's approaching form.

As we drew closer, I saw the trust in Jamie's eyes.

He knew I wouldn't betray him. That my presence here was an act of solidarity, not competition. He stretched out his arm as I approached, and I slapped his hand as he passed in front of me.

In that brief moment of contact, I felt a surge of connection.

A wordless communication that went beyond the simple rules of our game. It was as if, in that fleeting touch, we had reaffirmed a bond that transcended the schoolyard, the game, even our own understanding. Palm against palm. The warmth of his skin. The solidity of his presence. A promise given and received without words.

I passed behind Jamie and continued running.

My legs burned with the effort but my spirit soared. I glanced back, feeling a mix of triumph and trepidation as I saw three of the chasers break away from their pursuit of Jamie and start coming after me.

The thrill of successfully diverting attention from Jamie was tempered by the realisation that I was now the prime target. But it was worth it. He would escape. He would stay free. And maybe — just maybe — we would find another moment. Another hiding spot. Another chance for him to tell me what he'd been trying to say.

I was now in the centre of the playground. The heart of our little world.

Chasers seemed to materialise from every direction. As if the very air around me was conspiring to bring about my capture. I was exhausted. My lungs heaving as I tried to gulp down air. My muscles screaming for respite.

The fatigue of the long chase was beginning to take its toll. Each step becoming an act of sheer will.

In that moment of extremity, as I considered my dwindling options, fate intervened.

In the form of an untied shoelace.

My foot came down on the trailing lace, and suddenly the world was tilting. The ground rushing up to meet me. I found myself sprawled across the bark chips. The rough texture biting into my palms and knees.

The fall seemed to happen in slow motion. Each second stretching out as I watched the ground come closer and closer. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. Scattered my thoughts. Left me gasping on the playground floor.

Without hesitation, Becky's hand came down on my shoulder.

"Tag! You're it," she announced. Her voice ringing out with a mix of triumph and sympathy.

The touch of her hand felt like a brand. Marking me as captured. As one of them now.

I lay there for a moment. Defeated but not broken.

I had put up a good fight. Had shown what I was capable of. Had diverted the chasers from Jamie. Had proven — at least to myself — that despite my size, despite my history, despite all the things that marked me as different and weak, I could run with the best of them.

As I sat up, brushing bark chips from my clothes, the siren rang out.

Its shrill tone informed us that lunch had now come to a close. The sound cut through the playground noise, bringing an abrupt end to our game and snapping us back to the reality of school life.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me.

If only I had hung on just a few more seconds before I tripped. Then maybe I wouldn't have been caught. The 'what ifs' played through my mind — a torturous loop of possibilities and missed opportunities.

But even as I felt the sting of defeat, I realised that something had shifted.

This game, this chase, had been about more than just winning or losing. It had been about connection. About proving to myself — and to Jamie — that I was someone who could be relied upon. Someone who would take risks for those I cared about.

As the loud, excited chatter of the group began to disperse, I felt a hand reach down to me.

Looking up, I saw Ryan. His face flushed from the chase but wearing a kind smile. The gesture surprised me — a moment of sportsmanship that stood out against the backdrop of our cutthroat game.

"Come on. We'd better get to class," Ryan said. Pulling me to my feet with surprising gentleness.

I nodded. Brushing the last of the bark chips from my clothes.

As we began to make our way towards the German classroom, I scanned the dispersing crowd for Jamie.

I spotted him a few metres away. His eyes already on me.

He gave me a small nod.

A gesture that spoke volumes. There was gratitude there. And something else. A promise, perhaps, that our interrupted conversation wasn't forgotten. That whatever he'd been trying to tell me on the trampoline — and again in the bushes, before Ben had burst through — was still waiting.

Still there.

Still ours.