Playground Pirates

Charlotte's hand was sticky.

Jenna was surprised she noticed - kids' hands were always sticky, and their sticky hands were always slipping into hers, grabbing her by the arm, the elbow, and wrapping themselves around her legs. She celebrated the end of each workday with a scrub in the shower that would've passed muster in a surgical suite, and nearly always had some kind of mystery streak or smudge to contend with.

But Charlotte was different. Charlotte came to school with four changes of clothes, finished her day with the same puffed pigtails she walked in with, and couldn't stand touching anything squishy, soft, slimy or wet. She was the only two-year-old Jenna had ever met who had already mastered the use of chopsticks, which she diligently used to eat the meticulously sliced fruit, cheese and lunch meat her father packed for lunch.

Jenna looked down at her and Charlotte's joined hands, as if to double check whether she had the right child. But Charlotte's face was unmistakable in its determined, focused set, and her stride was purposeful, leading Jenna through the early recess hubbub, across the wood chips, over the wooden beam that marked the edge of the play space, and into the dirt.

Jenna was more than a little surprised when Charlotte stopped.

"You want to play in the boat?" she asked. The boat was the pride of the playground for most of the kids - a battered wood and aluminum chaloupe that one of the preschool's parents had donated for the children's play decades ago. Generations of kids had captained it in endless games of pirate, sailor, rescuer and mermaid. It was partially wedged into the ground to make it easy to climb in and out of, but the kids always found ways to make it rock from side to side, throwing the weight of their little bodies in an impressive display of teamwork from such agents of chaos.

It was the kind of scene Charlotte usually avoided like the plague, preferring to pick her way around the edges of the playground, keeping her clothes neat and her hands clean as she collected pebbles and twigs of equal sizes to arrange in her own natural mosaic on a quiet patch of asphalt.

"I go." Charlotte's voice was firm. "I bave."

Jenna squatted down until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with Charlotte. Kids streamed around them like water around a boulder, several making a beeline for the boat and clattering into it.

"You are very brave," Jenna said quietly. "Is that what we're doing today? We're being brave and going in the boat?"

"I go," Charlotte repeated. She took a beat to steel herself, then edged cautiously toward the boat, which some of the rowdier three-year-olds had already commandeered, shouting and playing, and trying to using their combined weight to rock the boat side to side. Charlotte froze a couple feet away, her hand suddenly clammy in Jenna's.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jenna stole a sidelong glance at Charlotte and saw the little girl's eyes wide and tense. "Do you want to get in the boat and play with them?"

"I go," Charlotte said, her voice a little higher and more uncertain.

"You can go whenever you're ready," Jenna said gently, watching as the kids in the boat tried to move from side to side simultaneously. The boat wasn't budging - there weren't enough of them, and they weren't coordinated enough to shift their collective weight. "It looks like they're trying to move the boat and need some help," she said. She bit back the impulse to ask again if Charlotte wanted to join them.

One of the boys in the boat caught them watching and leaned over the bow, pointing to Charlotte.

"Come help us!" he called. "We need you!"

Jenna could almost hear Charlotte's pulse quicken. Before she could say anything, Charlotte dropped her hand and made a beeline for the boat. Jenna sniffed her palm curiously. Strawberry. Seemed like Charlotte was trying all sorts of new things today.

She watched Charlotte struggle over the side of the boat, giving an indignant squawk as one of the other girls grabbed her jacket to help haul her in. She looked a little lost among the bigger kids. Jenna knew the sound of grit scraping against the boat's metal bottom was enough to give her nails-on-a-chalkboard chills sometimes. She couldn't imagine how Charlotte was handling it.

Brave, indeed.

One of the preschool's oldest children came to examine the efforts of the youngest kids, then decided they needed her guidance and leadership. She hopped over the side of the boat with ease and started shouting instructions, wrangling half a dozen flailing little bodies into order, Charlotte right in the mix, her face just as serious and focused as ever. Jenna watched as the boat began to rock, little by little. She smiled at them, but didn't comment, letting them have their moment of triumph.

"Keep going!" shouted the self-appointed captain. "Harder! More!" The toddlers rushed to obey as she leaned hard from side to side. Jenna saw the boat begin to tip further and further and held up a hand, ready to put a stop to it before someone got -

She was too late. The trusty chaloupe, which had never capsized in spite of the children's best efforts, tipped over sharply to one side. Most of the kids managed to hang on, but Charlotte, the smallest of the group and without any understanding of how to brace herself, came tumbling out into the dirt.

Jenna winced. She could almost hear the wails of alarm that were sure to start any second. She held her breath, willing herself not to move or call out unless Charlotte gave a sign that she needed help.

"Hey!"

The boat's captain cupped her hands and shouted in Charlotte's direction with something that sounded almost like delight. "Man overboard!" she shouted, clearly pleased with the game's raised stakes. "Man overboard!"

"Girl overboard!" corrected one of Charlotte's classmates. The rest of them took up the cry: "Girl overboard!"

"Let's save her!" cried the captain. She leaned over the side of the boat and held a hand out to Charlotte. Jenna could see the streaks of dirt and grime across her palm and grimaced on Charlotte's behalf. "Grab my hand!" she crowed. "We'll pull you in!"

Charlotte looked up. Jenna could see her considering her options, even amid the eager squeals of the children, now all leaning over the side of the boat and desperately reaching for her. She couldn't stop a grin as Charlotte got to her feet and pointed at all their hands.

"Icky," she pronounced. Then she grabbed the side of the boat and hauled herself in with twice the grace she'd had on her first entry. The crew cheered her return as Charlotte instinctively clapped her hands over her ears. She glanced toward Jenna and met her eyes, saying something Jenna couldn't hear, but knew immediately.

I bave. I bave. I bave.