Day One: Take Two ... Adopt A Useless Talent

"I can burp the alphabet," the boy announced, with no little amount of pride. He squared his shoulders and put his hands on his hips, Superman style. Being a first grader didn't stop him from attempting to impress the third-grade girls. He was six years old, tall for his age, graceful and assured in his movements as only a small boy can be. He'd never shied away from a challenge, and he seemed to think that burping on command was a sure way to impress the girls that stood in a group around the slide, giggling. Their party-colored leggings and sparkly shoes were a mystery to him, bright spots in the dull landscape of playground mulch. He found them strangely alluring, but didn't know why. They almost never spoke to him, and when they did it was a confusing cacophony of tittering and talk of girly cartoons like The Care Bears. At least he thought that's what the girls talked about. He was never really listening when he raced by, trying to beat his best friend to the good swing.

"I saaaaid, I can burp the alphabet!" he repeated, stomping his foot for emphasis. The girls didn't look up. Clearly they had seen his ilk before. The boy thought it was strange that they seemed not to care--he'd assumed his plan was flawless. He'd thought it up the night before, watching a program about gorillas on the Discovery Channel. The lady gorillas loved it when the men gorillas roared and beat their chests. He wondered if he should actually call them lady gorillas and men gorillas. Maybe they were just boy and girl gorillas? Or mom and dad gorillas? Nevermind. The point was, these girls always stood by this same twisty slide during recess, and he had been trying to find a way to get their attention since the beginning of the school year. He'd tried all his best tricks: climbing to the top of the monkey bars, running faster than his friends where the girls could see him, throwing rocks really far, and jumping from the swings when they were at the top of their arch into the sky--but so far none of the girls had so much as turned a hair in his direction.

 "Doesn't ANYONE want to hear me burp the alphabet?" he repeated. He'd been working on it and he could finally get from A-Z on only two breaths. This was his last trick and his best, his ace in the hole, his sure thing. Why wouldn't they notice him? He was the king of this playground, the fastest, the best, the most handsome. He knew it was true because his mom told him so all the time. He stomped his foot again and the girl nearest to him turned around. Her hair was red and fell in single braid down the back of her corduroy dress. She had a headband with a big pink flower on it and silly bands stacked up her wrist in a rainbow of colors. She smiled. He looked her in the eye, shrugged his shoulders and arched one eyebrow. Then he ran away to join his friends across the playground. Maybe tomorrow.