It was a fall morning and I was walking down the school hallway to get to Mrs. Fisher’s class. It all went well, like a normal day at first. We did math, reading, and specials. I answered some questions.

    After what seemed like forever, we got to go outside. Of course, it was Friday, so we got to play on the first grade playground! I went straight for the metal slide, but the steps up are kind of steep and I toppled off. I landed hard to the ground, and I hit my arm. I wasn’t hurt badly, but a few tears slipped off my face. 

 Of course, I made a dumb choice for a person with a hurt arm a few minutes later, and I headed to the monkey bars. I went up the play structure side of the monkey bars, raised my hands, grabbed the monkey bars, and let my feet off. 

    It seemed like I was plummeting forever, even though it was only a few seconds. I got the time to put the arm I had already hurt out, by reflex, most likely so I didn’t hit my head. I hit the exact same spot I had already hit on my wrist, and I started crying in pain, and people, even though I didn’t like it, started crowding around me. It hurt so bad I can’t even explain it in words. A recess aid came over and asked me what had happened, and through sobs I explained. When the recess aids found out, they sent me to the office to get ice with my friend Jaylin. The office called mom who called gramma to come pick me up. When she got there though, I turned down the chance to go because I knew it would mean and E.R. trip. 

 Later that day I was crying because my arm hurt so bad and I wanted to go home. “Please let me go home” I pleaded. 

Please let me go home