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In her cartoons, they made sure you understood which kid was lonely by having them sit on the swing all by themselves. They'd sit, they stared, and they watched as all of the other kids had fun together. Without them.
Nobody would notice their exclusion, as they sat on the swing. Not even the chaperoning mothers chatting on the nearby benches—gossiping to one another and barely paying attention to their children as they ran around swinging.
Sari never really questioned why the swing of all equipment became the symbol of loneliness. It just made sense, ya know? A sort of unspoken, understood common sense that kids had.
On a technical level, swings were a solitary play set. You sat in the plastic seat, the shape of it bending at the added weight. Then you pumped your legs to swing back and forth, over and over. Simple, right? By all definitions it was a one-person ride.
Except, Sari knew that wasn't true. Other kids had their friends push them for a boost, palms putting all of their strength against the small of their backs. Pairs would sit side by side, competing to see who could swing higher or holding hands as they tried to match each other's pace. The more adventurous kids would twist in their seats, watching as their chains awkwardly tightened into coils before letting loose. They'd spin out of control, laughing to their heart's content as they became mini-cyclones as they just barely bumped into their friend.
Her father sometimes pushed Sari on the swing, when she was younger. Before his work consumed him. Before…
Shuffling her legs out in front of her, sneakers digging into the wood chips, Sari lamented that her cartoons never explained how… empty being lonely felt. It curled up in her chest, making itself at home in her stomach as her heart sank whenever she faced yet another rejection. If she had to describe it, it was almost… like she was hungry. But no amount of food or playing with expensive toys could fill her up.
Her hands clenched around the chains, hard enough that indents from the links—plastic covering peeling at the corners—would surely show up on her palms.
She had stopped pretending as though she were interested in actually using the swing half an hour ago. Instead, she used it as her stoop to enviously watch the other kids play. Every now and then, someone brave would come over to ask if they could have a turn and she'd turn her nose at them.
And yeah, if you hogged one of the swings, then obviously other kids wouldn't want to play with you. But if she gave up her spot, what would she do? Sari had tried to play tag before, but they said she played too rough. Not rougher than any of them played with each other, however.
If her peers played make believe, they'd pretend she wasn't there. If they climbed the play structure, they'd use any and all exit to run away if she tried to join in. Sliding down fireman poles, tripping on the rope nets leading down, even tumbling head first down the slide at the top of the playground.
Sari wished they would explain why they disliked her so much. She'd never ask again to play with them if they would just tell her. The excuse that they were her dad's employee's kids didn't even work because half the time that she was at the playground Sari never saw the same group of school-aged tweens playing twice.
And yet, they all avoided her. As if there was some secret underground network blacklisting certain kids from hanging out with all the rest. Maybe they knew something that Sari didn't know about herself and that was the reason why they ran from her like she had cooties or the plague.
It didn't fill her hallowed center not knowing the truth. The longer she went without it, the more Sari starved.
Gritting her teeth, Sari propelled herself back in the seat—chains clinking as her sneakers dragged a path in the dirt. A burning sensation raced across her entire body, cheeks aflame with misery and humiliation. Air brushed against her bangs, forcing her to clench her eyes shut as she pumped her legs back and forth. A tear or two released, because of the force that she swung in her seat.
Sari rose and fell back down, her fingers loosening from the chains as the pendulum returned to the center. Leaning practically out of her seat, her pigtails dragged through the dark brown wood chips—picking up dirt that her father was sure to scold her about later. But Sari paid it no mind as she righted herself in her seat in time to pump her legs again, wanting to swing as high as possible.
At a certain point, she didn't even need to put all that much effort in her task as each swing back and forth brought her closer to free falling. A few of the kids sitting on the smallest play structure paused and watched her for a change. They were probably wondering if she was trying to swing all the way around, wrapping the chain across the bar running parallel and boosting her seat ever so slightly higher.
Well, they were wrong. Because Sari swung and swung until she got high enough that she could let go of the swing entirely and launch herself off. Landing feet first and tumbling just a bit as a sharp pain went all the way up through her legs, Sari utilized her momentum to startle the kids with a loud, "BOO!"
They screamed from the very moment she jumped off the swing in their direction, attracting the attention of their mothers. They probably thought she was going to crash right into them— Hmph, as if.
Scoffing, Sari dusted her knees and stomped away from them. She passed the mothers who rushed to console their brats and only slightly regretted her actions, if only because her calves still stung from her harsh landing.
Heading home, Sari ignored all the noise coming from the playground still. She didn't want to hear any of it, especially not when… when she still felt so starved.