"Toss me the damned ball!"
The shout tore through the dusty afternoon air, followed immediately by a burst of laughter. A boy dashed across the open field, bare feet slapping the dry, hard earth.
"You've been scoring since the start—give me a chance to score too!"
That was Zit. Everyone knew him. Everyone liked him. He was loud, bright, full of noise and life — the kind of boy whose presence filled every space around him.
The boy sitting beneath the crooked tree didn't move. Not because he wasn't capable, but because he had somewhere better to be: in the shade, observing. His knees were drawn up, arms draped loosely over them as he rested his back against the rough bark. The shade didn't do much to fight the heat, but it did wonders for keeping him out of the chaos. And, frankly, he liked the chaos better from a distance.
The children's laughter carried across the field like sunlight — too bright, too warm, impossible to ignore. Zit's voice always stood out above the rest, loud and careless, confident in a way that irritated and amused him at the same time. He could hear the boy laughing at the same joke three times over and rolling in the dust with the others. And he would have thought it ridiculous if he didn't secretly admire it.
The ball bounced hard against a rock and rolled toward the tree. The boy under the tree blinked at it. His first instinct was to let it sit there, perhaps to watch Zit trip spectacularly over it. But the ball seemed to stare back at him, round and expectant. With a resigned sigh, he nudged it forward with a light tap of his foot.
Zit caught it mid-run, grinning the kind of grin that made everyone like him without even trying. He didn't know why he allowed that grin to bother him so, but it did. Somehow, it was infuriating, yet faintly hilarious.
The boy tried not to smirk. Tried. But then Zit tripped over his own feet, landing face-first in the dust with all the grace of a sack of flour. The others erupted into a roar of laughter. Some clutched their knees; some wiped tears from their eyes. One of the girls even pointed at him, giggling.
He had to admit, there was a certain rhythm to it. Zit's pratfall, his laughter, the rolling in the dust—it was like watching a badly choreographed dance, except the dancer had no idea it was bad. He could almost hear a drumbeat in his head: "thump, tumble, roll, guffaw."
It made him shake his head, smiling despite himself. Honestly, Zit had no right to be so ridiculously normal. It was unfair, in a way. How could someone trip over nothing and make it look fun? How could someone laugh so loud and still seem like they belonged anywhere, with anyone?
From his perch under the tree, he started cataloging the absurdities in his mind, one after another. Zit had fallen in a way that made dust rise like smoke rings. His shorts were now streaked with brown, but he didn't seem to notice. His hands were smeared, his hair a mess, and yet he jumped up immediately, brushing off the dirt like it was nothing, grinning the same infuriating grin.
It was almost heroic, in a tragicomic sense. He imagined himself narrating the scene as if it were a grand epic: "Behold, Zit of the Dusty Field, master of pratfalls, bringer of laughter, terror of his own feet…"
He snorted quietly at the mental image, catching himself before anyone noticed. That would have been a laugh out loud moment, and he was far too dignified for that—or at least he liked to believe so.
The ball rolled past him again. He let it sit for a beat, just to watch Zit chase after it, kicking it back into the group with theatrical precision. He noted the way the dust clung to his skin, how his hair stuck in tufts, how his grin never faltered. He could almost imagine someone writing a story about him, all heroic and dramatic, and it would be completely ridiculous because Zit was just a kid, nothing more, nothing less.
He leaned back against the tree, shaking his head, secretly pleased at the small amusement the field had brought him. It was funny, really. Funny in that way life could be when you observed closely enough: a comedy of small mistakes, of unselfconscious confidence, of ordinary people being spectacularly themselves.
A cricket chirped somewhere nearby. He rolled his eyes at it, muttering under his breath. Really? You too? But even the tiny insect had its own rhythm, adding layers to the absurd symphony of the day.
He watched the others run, stumble, shout, and kick up dust. He imagined each of their movements as part of a carefully improvised play. No one would call it graceful, but it had its own charm. Even the way the dust swirled around their ankles was vaguely poetic if one squinted hard enough.
The sun was high, and heat radiated from the dirt in slow, visible waves. He noticed the patterns in the ground, the faint footprints, the little divots where a ball had landed. Most people would pass by without a thought. He didn't. He cataloged everything, silently commenting to himself: "Ah yes, the left foot drags slightly, a classic move. And there, the heroic tumble of Zit, perfectly executed. Magnificent, really."
Despite himself, he grinned. Not outwardly, but in the way that only happens when something is quietly amusing. No one could see it, which was perfect. The day stretched lazily around him, filled with ordinary chaos, and he felt entirely entertained by watching it unfold.
The ball bounced near his feet again. He tapped it lazily toward the group, smirking at their over-the-top reactions. Then he leaned back again, surveying the field like a critic at a theater, privately delighted at the spectacle of human folly. He imagined the commentary he would give if he were narrating it to an invisible audience, delighting in the absurdities no one else bothered to notice.
And for a while, he allowed himself to simply watch, quietly, amused, unbothered by the heat, by the dust, by the endless noise. The chaos belonged to them. He belonged to the shade, to the quiet observations, to the mental footnotes that chronicled a perfectly ordinary afternoon with extraordinary attention.
It was simple. It was ridiculous. And it was endlessly entertaining