I broke my leg… i mean I ripped my pants

“What happened to you?” classmate
“I broke my leg” me
“What?!” classmate
“I broke my leg, see” me limping along stiffly as possible
“Hey, Carl look… Young says she broke her leg” classmate
A curious kid comes over lifting his glasses to make sure that my leg is, actually broken.
“Ahhh, I don’t think so, prove it” Carl
“see, it hurts so bad.” me lifting my leg, like a bag of bricks
“if you really broke your leg, you would be crying, you didn’t break your leg!” classmate

Moments later bored the boys finally left me to tend to my leg; I kept limping around the playground tightening my sweater of a bandage. Making sure that the rip in my pants was not exposed to anyone’s eyes, making sure I keep up appearance. Then no one would question my broken leg or my ripped pant leg.

Earlier that day I was running around after lunch, and all of a sudden I saw something that caught my eye on the floor. So like an old Korean man, I decided to crouch down to take a good look, when- rip! No joke two seconds flat, the inner lining of my amber colored corduroy split. I felt paralyzed, not knowing what to do I stood there, I wanted to cry and go home. But how with these stupid pants all ripped up everyone would laugh.
A scenario kept playing inside my head, my parents asking how my pants ripped, thinking for a moment then inevitably one of them squeezing my belly while nodding their heads side to side. As if anyone had to say why, and how the pants ripped. Poor chubby thighs, I’ll take good care of you, I thought.
After, my pants ripped, after the interrogation, after the imagined ridicule and lastly the self-pity a white knight came to my rescue. The beautiful nurse walked me over to her office. It was my first experience going into this fascinating place, where a kid can sit and rest, from bullies, sickness, or even imagined broken leg. The nurses will comfort you and ask how you’re doing and if you’re lucky they’ll let you sit there till your pride mends itself. When I ripped my pants in fourth grade, it was a big deal, because I understood it. When you’re a baby or a geriatric its expected nobody cares, if I saw a toddler or old grandpa rip their pants, I’d take a good hard look then shrug to myself, no harm no foul. But when a fourth grader rips her pants the whole world stops even if you didn’t break your legs.


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