A story
Zain and the New Boy on the Other End of the Seesaw
In the middle of the park near Zain's house, between the sandpit and the big fig tree, there was a seesaw. It was long and red, with a yellow handle at each end, and it went up and down, up and down, creaking happily like an old door.
Zain loved the seesaw more than anything else in the park. But a seesaw has one big secret. You cannot ride it alone.
Every afternoon, Zain's best friend Dalal rode the other end. Up went Zain, down went Dalal. Down went Zain, up went Dalal. They laughed so much that their tummies hurt.
But this week, Dalal had gone to visit her cousins in another city. And the other end of the seesaw sat on the ground, empty and still.
On Monday, Zain sat on his end and waited. Nothing happened. His end stayed stuck up in the air, and he dangled his legs and felt sorry for himself.
On Tuesday, he tried pushing off the ground very hard. He bounced up a little, and then bumped back down. It was not the same at all.
On Wednesday, Zain came to the park with his mother, and he saw someone new.
A boy was standing by the fig tree. He had curly red-brown hair and a green jacket that was a little too big for him, and he was holding a small toy truck. He was looking at the seesaw.
"Who is that?" Zain asked his mother.
"I think his family just moved into the yellow house on the corner," said Mama. "Why don't you say hello?"
Zain did not want to say hello. He felt shy, like a snail who wants to stay inside its shell. And besides, the seesaw was his and Dalal's.
He climbed onto his end of the seesaw and sat there, up in the air, pretending not to look at the boy.
The boy walked a little closer. Then a little closer. Then he stopped and looked at the empty end of the seesaw on the ground. He looked at Zain, up in the air.
Zain looked at his shoes.
The boy turned away and went back to the fig tree. He knelt in the dirt and pushed his toy truck along a root, all by himself. He made a quiet "vroom, vroom" sound.
Zain sat on the seesaw. His legs dangled. The seesaw did not move. It was very boring.
He watched the boy. The boy's "vroom, vroom" sounded a bit lonely. It sounded, Zain thought, exactly like how a seesaw feels with only one person on it.
Zain remembered his first day in this park, last year. He had stood by the fig tree too. And a girl with two bouncing ponytails had run up to him and said, "Do you want to ride the seesaw? It needs two!" That girl had been Dalal.
Zain slid off the seesaw. He walked slowly over to the fig tree. His heart was pattering like rain on a roof.
"Hello," he said.
The boy looked up. "Hello," he said, very softly.
"I'm Zain," said Zain. "What's your name?"
"Mateo," said the boy.
"Do you want to ride the seesaw?" said Zain. And then, because it was true, he added, "It needs two."
Mateo's face changed. It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. He jumped up so fast that he nearly dropped his truck.
They ran to the seesaw together. Mateo sat on the end on the ground, and Zain climbed onto the end in the air. Zain came down, bump, and Mateo went up.
But something was wrong. Mateo stayed up in the air, and Zain stayed down on the ground. Zain pushed with his legs as hard as he could, and he went up a little, and then came straight back down, thump.
"You're heavier than me," said Mateo, swinging his legs high in the air.
"You're lighter than Dalal," said Zain. He frowned. "It's not working."
For a moment, he felt grumpy again. Maybe this was why the seesaw was only for him and Dalal.
But Mateo was thinking. He looked at the long red board. "What if you sit closer to the middle?" he said.
Zain scooted forward, past the yellow handle, closer to the middle of the board. He pushed off.
Up he went! Down came Mateo! Down came Zain! Up went Mateo!
"It works!" shouted Zain.
"It works!" shouted Mateo.
Up and down they went, up and down, the seesaw creaking happily like an old door. Mateo laughed a big, bubbly laugh that did not sound shy at all. Zain laughed so hard that his tummy hurt.
When they got tired of seesawing, Mateo showed Zain his truck. It had a little ladder on top that went up and down. They built a road for it in the sandpit, with a bridge made of sticks and a tunnel made of Zain's hands. Then they lay on their backs under the fig tree and looked at the leaves, and Mateo told Zain that in his old town there had been a seesaw too, a blue one, and that he had missed it.
When Mama called Zain to go home, he did not want to leave.
"Will you come tomorrow?" he asked Mateo.
"Yes," said Mateo. "After school."
On Saturday, Dalal came back from her cousins. She ran into the park with her ponytails bouncing, shouting, "Zain! Zain! I'm back! Let's ride the seesaw!"
Then she stopped. Mateo was standing next to Zain.
"This is Mateo," said Zain. "He's new."
Dalal looked at Mateo. Mateo looked at his shoes.
Zain waited. He knew what Dalal was going to say, because she had said it to him once, a long time ago.
Dalal smiled. "Do you want to ride the seesaw with us?" she said. "It needs two. But we can take turns, and three is even better."
And that is exactly what they did.
Zain loved the seesaw more than anything else in the park. But a seesaw has one big secret. You cannot ride it alone.
Every afternoon, Zain's best friend Dalal rode the other end. Up went Zain, down went Dalal. Down went Zain, up went Dalal. They laughed so much that their tummies hurt.
But this week, Dalal had gone to visit her cousins in another city. And the other end of the seesaw sat on the ground, empty and still.
On Monday, Zain sat on his end and waited. Nothing happened. His end stayed stuck up in the air, and he dangled his legs and felt sorry for himself.
On Tuesday, he tried pushing off the ground very hard. He bounced up a little, and then bumped back down. It was not the same at all.
On Wednesday, Zain came to the park with his mother, and he saw someone new.
A boy was standing by the fig tree. He had curly red-brown hair and a green jacket that was a little too big for him, and he was holding a small toy truck. He was looking at the seesaw.
"Who is that?" Zain asked his mother.
"I think his family just moved into the yellow house on the corner," said Mama. "Why don't you say hello?"
Zain did not want to say hello. He felt shy, like a snail who wants to stay inside its shell. And besides, the seesaw was his and Dalal's.
He climbed onto his end of the seesaw and sat there, up in the air, pretending not to look at the boy.
The boy walked a little closer. Then a little closer. Then he stopped and looked at the empty end of the seesaw on the ground. He looked at Zain, up in the air.
Zain looked at his shoes.
The boy turned away and went back to the fig tree. He knelt in the dirt and pushed his toy truck along a root, all by himself. He made a quiet "vroom, vroom" sound.
Zain sat on the seesaw. His legs dangled. The seesaw did not move. It was very boring.
He watched the boy. The boy's "vroom, vroom" sounded a bit lonely. It sounded, Zain thought, exactly like how a seesaw feels with only one person on it.
Zain remembered his first day in this park, last year. He had stood by the fig tree too. And a girl with two bouncing ponytails had run up to him and said, "Do you want to ride the seesaw? It needs two!" That girl had been Dalal.
Zain slid off the seesaw. He walked slowly over to the fig tree. His heart was pattering like rain on a roof.
"Hello," he said.
The boy looked up. "Hello," he said, very softly.
"I'm Zain," said Zain. "What's your name?"
"Mateo," said the boy.
"Do you want to ride the seesaw?" said Zain. And then, because it was true, he added, "It needs two."
Mateo's face changed. It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. He jumped up so fast that he nearly dropped his truck.
They ran to the seesaw together. Mateo sat on the end on the ground, and Zain climbed onto the end in the air. Zain came down, bump, and Mateo went up.
But something was wrong. Mateo stayed up in the air, and Zain stayed down on the ground. Zain pushed with his legs as hard as he could, and he went up a little, and then came straight back down, thump.
"You're heavier than me," said Mateo, swinging his legs high in the air.
"You're lighter than Dalal," said Zain. He frowned. "It's not working."
For a moment, he felt grumpy again. Maybe this was why the seesaw was only for him and Dalal.
But Mateo was thinking. He looked at the long red board. "What if you sit closer to the middle?" he said.
Zain scooted forward, past the yellow handle, closer to the middle of the board. He pushed off.
Up he went! Down came Mateo! Down came Zain! Up went Mateo!
"It works!" shouted Zain.
"It works!" shouted Mateo.
Up and down they went, up and down, the seesaw creaking happily like an old door. Mateo laughed a big, bubbly laugh that did not sound shy at all. Zain laughed so hard that his tummy hurt.
When they got tired of seesawing, Mateo showed Zain his truck. It had a little ladder on top that went up and down. They built a road for it in the sandpit, with a bridge made of sticks and a tunnel made of Zain's hands. Then they lay on their backs under the fig tree and looked at the leaves, and Mateo told Zain that in his old town there had been a seesaw too, a blue one, and that he had missed it.
When Mama called Zain to go home, he did not want to leave.
"Will you come tomorrow?" he asked Mateo.
"Yes," said Mateo. "After school."
On Saturday, Dalal came back from her cousins. She ran into the park with her ponytails bouncing, shouting, "Zain! Zain! I'm back! Let's ride the seesaw!"
Then she stopped. Mateo was standing next to Zain.
"This is Mateo," said Zain. "He's new."
Dalal looked at Mateo. Mateo looked at his shoes.
Zain waited. He knew what Dalal was going to say, because she had said it to him once, a long time ago.
Dalal smiled. "Do you want to ride the seesaw with us?" she said. "It needs two. But we can take turns, and three is even better."
And that is exactly what they did.
