"Playground Power Struggle": An Exercise with Status Play and Dialogue Tags
Two boys playing on my street inspired me to write this week's assignment, which required me to dive deeper into dialogue, experimenting with as few dialogue tags as possible. The few tags employed act as anchors to inform the reader which character is speaking. Any other attributes to inform the reader are through description of action. Enjoy. Your feedback is always appreciated.
Playground Power Struggle
By Laura M. Campbell
School bus 81 pulled
into Willow Hill Estates just before four o’clock. The weather unseasonably warm for a Friday in February filled
all the children with hysterical energy after a long day of classes. Laughter and chatter floated out the
cracked windows while they grabbed their book bags and lunch boxes preparing to
get off the bus. Andy pressed his
face against the window, scanning the crowd of parents for his mother’s red
coat. His gaze moved over to the
playground. Only a few young
children were running around.
His friend Chris
leaned over his shoulder. “Do you
see your mom?” He leaned back and
bounced in his seat as the bus driver turned the corner near the community
pool.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think
she’ll say yes?” Chris stood up,
holding on to the back of the seat as the bus driver pressed on the brake.
Andy shrugged. “I don’t know.” He stood up and slipped his arms
through the straps of his book bag.
Then, fell back into the seat when the bus came to a stop.
The children’s
voices grew louder while they pushed one another down the steps and out the
door.
The bus driver
shook her head. “No pushing.”
Andy’s foot hit
the ground and he ran towards the parents.
“Mom. Mom.”
“I’m right here, honey.” She waved. He couldn’t see her face through the light brown hair
blowing around her face.
“Mom, can I go
play with Chris?”
“You have karate
tonight.”
“Please Mom. Just for a little bit?”
She placed her
hand on his boney shoulder. “Ok. Under one condition.” He nodded. “When I say it’s time to go in, you can’t give me a hard
time. You need to eat dinner
before you go to class. Ok?” She
ruffled his brown hair.
He pulled his head
away. “Ok.” He tore off his book bag and handed it
to her. The bag hit the ground
before she could grab it. He dug the
rubber sole of his black Converse sneakers into the sidewalk and ran towards
the play set. “Chris. I can play.”
The two boys met
at the edge of the play area. Chris
stepped up on the wooden barrier surrounding the enormous playground as Andy
approached. He swung his arm over
his head towards the play set. “Let’s go.” The eager little boy followed him to
the metal cargo net, kicking up wood chips.
Andy pointed at
Chris’s feet. “Your shoes are
untied.”
“Who cares?” He didn’t stop running until he stood
right in front of the metal net.
“I usually climb
into the tree house here,” Chris said.
He put his foot on the chain mixed in the wood chips and leaned over to
place his hands on the chain in front of him.
“This is a tree
house?” He watched as Chris climbed.
His head moved side-to-side, taking in the entire structure. It didn’t look like a tree house. The three slides reminded him of a stairwell or an escalator
in a building. The bridge looked
as if it connected to separate buildings.
A little blonde girl climbed onto what looked like a fireman’s pole, but
there were discs evenly spaced on the pole to the ground. She sat down and spun with her legs
stretched out in front of her down the pole. His forehead wrinkled as he figured out what it could
be.
“Yeah. That’s the game we play.” Chris’s hand
slipped and his face fell through one of the open squares. Some of the other children laughed. “Shut up.” He regained his grip and climbed the rest of the way to the
platform without falling. Chris
looked down at his new friend as he climbed onto the net. “Don’t worry if you
can’t get up. It takes a while to
get used to.”
Thirty seconds
later, he was standing on the platform.
Chris put his hand on his hip and frowned. “Whatever.”
Andy used the
railings to pull himself up to the higher platform. Overlooking the structure, his imagination redesigned the
play set, creating a new game. “I
think this would make a great space station.”
“This is a tree
house.” Chris curled his fingers.
“Yeah, but it
might be fun to try.”
Several other
children shouted in agreement.
Chris looked down and kicked his foot across the platform.
“And, anytime
you’re on the wood chips you have to walk real slow and jump around like they
do on the moon.”
“That’s stupid.”
“And this slide
here will be our emergency escape chamber.”
“It doesn’t look
like a space ship.” Chris’s cheeks flushed red as he listened to his friend lay
out the rules to the elaborate game.
“No, a space
station.”
“Whatever.” Chris stared at his feet. “I don’t know.”
“We can use this
pole with the discs as a ladder to reach the control panels, if the station
breaks down. And the bridge leads
to another station. So, you have
to walk slow there, too.”
“What happens if
you don’t walk slow?” Chris’s face
scrunched together, his eyebrows creating a “V.”
“You’re sent to the
sick room. You wait a minute,
then, you can play again.”
The knuckles on
Chris’s hand were turning white.
“Who’s in charge?”
“We can take
turns.” Andy smiled at Chris,
hoping he would agree to the game.
Several other children asked if they could play.
Chris turned and ran
across the bridge. Half way across,
the planks of the bridge caught his foot and he fell. He picked himself up.
“This game is stupid. I
don’t want to play it.” He whirled
around and jumped off the stairs.
“I’ve got a better idea. Why
don’t we have a jumping contest?”
The smile on
Andy’s face drooped. “Ok.” He walked across the bridge, dragging
his feet.
“Come on, it’ll be
fun.” Chris ran towards the
swings.
With each step, Andy
made sure both feet hit each stair before moving on to the next one. He stared down through the round holes
in the brown rubbery material, counting each individual wood chip. “How does the contest work?”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
He looked up to
see Chris waving his hand through the air, trying to get him to move
faster. “I said, how does the
contest work?”
Chris spent a minute
explaining the rules. “Basically, you
swing as high as you can. Someone
counts to three and we jump off the swing. The farthest jump wins.”
“I guess I can do
that.”
Chris saw Jimmy climbing
up the twisty slide. “Hey, Jimmy. You be the judge for our jumping contest.” The little boy lost his grip, slid down
and flew off the slide. He brushed
the wood chips from the back of his jeans, and ran over to the swings.
Chris held his arm
out with his index finger pointing towards the wooden barrier. “Stand over there, Jimmy, so you can
see who jumps the farthest. You
count to three when I tell ya.”
“Ok.” He smiled and ran to his position, his
sneakers squishing into the wet grass.
“Andy, you take
this swing and I’ll take this one.”
Chris sat down and situated himself.
Andy sat down. The seat felt lopsided. He looked up and saw a kink in the
chain.
Chris smiled as he
kicked himself off the ground, pumping his legs to get moving. “Are you ready?”
“I just need…a
minute…to fix…my swing.” He
jingled the chain hoping to undo the kink.
“That swing is
always like that.” Chris leaned
back on the swing with his feet in the air and smiled up at the sky as he
swooshed past.
Andy’s hair
tickled his ear while he shook the chain around, but the kink wouldn’t come
out.
“I don’t have all
day.”
“I guess I’m just
going to have to use it broken.”
“Don’t worry. I always win anyway.” He laughed under his breath.
Andy kicked off
the ground. The swing jerked every
time he passed under the pole. He
didn’t let it deter him. With his
lips pressed together, he pumped his legs harder.
“Ok, Jimmy. You can start counting to three,
now.” Chris pushed his chest out to
gain more height.
Andy shimmied
towards the edge of the black rubber seat. He dug his legs deep to get the speed he needed to launch
himself.
“One.”
Chris moved to the
edge of his seat and turned his head to check out his opponent. “Good thing the grass is soft. That way you won’t get hurt when you
fall.”
“Two.”
Andy ignored him
and kept pumping his legs. His
t-shirt fluttered around him from the speed.
“Three.”
Both boys passed
under the pole. As they approached
the highest point, they kicked their legs and jumped from the swing. Their arms flailed through the
air. Thump. Thump.
Andy teetered on the
balls of his feet. He gained his
balance and looked to his right.
He saw Chris lying on the ground behind him.
“Andy wins.” Jimmy jumped up and down with a toothy
smile.
“That’s not fair.” Chris picked himself up. “I wasn’t ready.” He tried to brush the grass stains from
his knees. “Redo.”
“Andy.” A familiar voice broke through the
sound of blood pumping in his ears.
He glanced towards the melodic voice. “It’s time to go in,” his mother said. She waved to him as she walked across
the grass with his book bag.
He started running
towards his mother. Stopped. Turned his head. “Listen, I gotta go.
My mom’s calling me.”
Chris leaned
towards him with his arm stretched out. The elbows of his shirt wet. “Wait.”
“Maybe we can play
again tomorrow.” He waved
goodbye.
The hot redness crawled
up Chris’s throat, spreading across his face. His hands balled into fists. “Sure.” The word barely made it through his
gritted teeth. He stomped away,
pushed Jimmy and climbed back on the play set.
Are there enough physical traits to picture the characters?
Is the dialogue fluid?
Is the weather prevalent enough to complete the image of the scene?
Comments
Are there enough physical traits to picture the characters? Yes.
Is the dialogue fluid? Yes.
Laura, this was a great piece that you wrote here. I looked for anything that I thought might be out of place, reading critically, from the white knuckled hands (showing me instead of telling me) of the boy's rising anger to the absence of dialogue tags. This shows that you are a masterful writer.
Is the weather prevalent enough to complete the image of the scene? Yes.