At the playground, Nobody swings higher and higher. “One, two, three!” she counts as her shoes pass over the light sand. The chains go creak-swish, creak-swish. The pushy child comes running toward the swing and grabs one of the chains.
With a strong tug, the pushy child shoves Nobody off the seat. “Screeech!” cry the chains. Nobody slides to the side, her hands open in the air. The child steps in front of the swing, as if it had always belonged to him.
Plop. Nobody falls onto the sand and sits there for a moment. Light grains cover her knees. In front of her, she can see only the pushy child’s big green shoes. “Hey...” she says softly, looking at them without standing up.
Nobody dusts off her knees: pat, pat, pat. Then she points to the empty swing beside him. “Can we take turns?” she asks. She keeps her finger pointed at the second seat, waiting for an answer.
The pushy child turns his face away and sits down. He pushes himself forward with his legs straight out. “Creeeak, creeeak,” the swing groans in a long squeak. Nobody looks at the slide on the other side of the sand.
Nobody gathers wet sand with both hands. She presses it into two curving banks. A track winds between a low tunnel and a little castle. Her fingers stay full of grains, but she fixes one more curve.
A shadow covers the longest curve. The pushy child plants one foot right on the sand track. Crunch. The banks collapse in a beige cloud, and the tunnel disappears beneath his shoe.
Nobody finds a blue marble half-hidden in the disturbed sand. She picks it up and closes her hand around it. She looks at the flattened castle, then at the broken groove. “I didn’t want you to do that,” she murmurs, her voice almost covered by the wind.
Nobody climbs up to the slide’s steps, where the pushy child is passing by. She waves to him. “Wait,” she says. He keeps climbing without slowing down, tapping his feet on the metal steps. Nobody remains there with her hand raised.
Near the slide, Nobody points to the half-rebuilt track. “That’s my track,” she says, speaking each word clearly. The pushy child clings to the net and laughs, “Ha-ha-ha!” then goes on past.
The pushy child grabs the yellow bucket. Nobody takes a step toward him. “Please stop,” she says. He grips the red handle and smiles broadly.
He lifts the bucket over the sand track. The grains are already sliding over the edge, tick, tick, tick. Nobody looks at the new curve she has just fixed.
The pushy child laughs even louder and gets ready to throw the bucket. Nobody is sad and angry.
Nobody places the blue marble in the center of the track. She straightens her shoulders. Then she steps in front of the castle, planting her feet firmly in the sand. The bucket stays high in the air, just beyond her reach.
The pushy child reaches out his other hand to push her again. Nobody does not move. She raises an open hand between them, high and steady. The blue marble waits motionless on the track.
“NO! Don’t push me. Don’t touch my things!” shouts Nobody. Her voice crosses the playground like a train whistle. The pushy child freezes. The bucket slips from his hand and falls upside down: “Plop!”
The pushy child looks at the overturned bucket, then at the squashed track. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. He points to the broken banks. “Can I help you rebuild it?” Nobody hands him a shovel, but first she points to the swing: “After you say you’re sorry.”
Nobody returns to the swing and pushes herself gently, then higher and higher. “Creak-swish, creak-swish,” go the chains. The pushy child waits beside the track with the shovel in his hand. Nobody counts: “One, two, three... now it’s your turn.”