Kody the Child Soldier
We were children, but we played as adults in our games. We were always very serious in them, whether we were politicians or parents or soldiers saving civilians. I never really liked to play imaginary games, though, and I liked tag more, but I think this is because I always felt like a soldier, so why would I have wanted to play one? I said, “Jess’ca, sorry, Jess’ca” and “Jess’ca, yes, Jess’ca” and prepared myself for long, stormy journeys. Her mom, Annaleen, would make me stand up straight with my hands at my sides in time out, and I couldn’t move or speak unless she said I could.
One boy was even tougher than me. His name was Kody or something like that. Kody was the oldest of the group at Annaleen’s house. He always got in trouble, and she would make him stand the way we stood when we played our games. But the thing was that I didn’t think that Kody did any wrong, and I felt bad for him. It was like Annaleen just didn’t like him and so he was always a soldier.
One day Annaleen got really mad at Kody, although I can’t remember why. It was while we were eating hamburgers and drinking Sprite for dinner. Kody was standing at attention at the end of the dining room table. He was refused dinner because soldiers often have to go many days with nothing in their stomachs but fear, and Annaleen didn’t care if he was crying because soldiers are supposed to man up and wipe away their blood and tears.
Everyone tried to ignore him, but I couldn’t ignore him when he was making so much noise and had snot running down his face. Annaleen looked at him and said, like the drill sergeant she was, “Don’t give him any Lem’n’Lime. If he gets thirsty, he can drink his tears. That should be enough for him.” So no one gave him anything to drink, because Kody needed to be taught how to survive without food or water or comfort.
I didn’t believe that, though. I knew it was just a game that had gone too far. I was the only one who knew that Kody wasn’t really a soldier - that none of us children were soldiers, even if Jess’ca and Annaleen said we were - and that I was watching an abused seven-year-old sob.
One boy was even tougher than me. His name was Kody or something like that. Kody was the oldest of the group at Annaleen’s house. He always got in trouble, and she would make him stand the way we stood when we played our games. But the thing was that I didn’t think that Kody did any wrong, and I felt bad for him. It was like Annaleen just didn’t like him and so he was always a soldier.
One day Annaleen got really mad at Kody, although I can’t remember why. It was while we were eating hamburgers and drinking Sprite for dinner. Kody was standing at attention at the end of the dining room table. He was refused dinner because soldiers often have to go many days with nothing in their stomachs but fear, and Annaleen didn’t care if he was crying because soldiers are supposed to man up and wipe away their blood and tears.
Everyone tried to ignore him, but I couldn’t ignore him when he was making so much noise and had snot running down his face. Annaleen looked at him and said, like the drill sergeant she was, “Don’t give him any Lem’n’Lime. If he gets thirsty, he can drink his tears. That should be enough for him.” So no one gave him anything to drink, because Kody needed to be taught how to survive without food or water or comfort.
I didn’t believe that, though. I knew it was just a game that had gone too far. I was the only one who knew that Kody wasn’t really a soldier - that none of us children were soldiers, even if Jess’ca and Annaleen said we were - and that I was watching an abused seven-year-old sob.