The Magic
By Kerry O’Shea
Kids in the third grade barely know what is right and what is wrong. They cannot tell the difference between cool and uncool, or yummy and disgusting. Taste changes after a while, but some memories still stick. The one activity I really enjoyed that year was playing this most unusual card game. Magic, it was called. All the guys and girls knew about it, and it was really invigorating. The cards were illustrated with creatures of all sorts on the front. A description of the animal was given, along with its strength in attacking and defending. I just liked to look at the pictures rather than actually play the game.
It was a cold day, one where people can see the puff of their breath as they walk. Coming into the school, the only warm place in the district at this time of day, I walked directly to Mrs. Simpson’s classroom. I skipped past the “Moon and Stars” display on the floor, making sure to touch all the planets with my size 4 feet. Then I took the aqua colored stairs two steps at a time, almost tripping on my third leap.
Going up two flights of stairs, I had finally arrived at the 3rd grade wing. At last, I had made it. I walked up the 5 steps to my wing, a long corridor with a sharp turn right at the end. Once I reached the turn I could see my little locker in the hallway, just sitting there among the crowd of hyperactive kids. I said hi to a few of my friends, glared at the class bully (my worst enemy for the whole year), and strolled down to my cute little blue locker. Opening the door easily, for the locker had no combination, I stuffed my blue back pack into the metal cage. I took out my homework folder from the pack.
When I walked into class no one was seated yet. They all looked around, talking to each other. I had many friends then, boys and girls. I snaked through the crowd to meet my own group of friends and tried to clue in on the conversation they were having. It was something about the surprise lunch and who would get it. Word around the school was that whoever got it was given a fruit Roll-up!
Mrs. Simpson, the best teacher in the school, got up from her desk, leaving her cup of coffee steaming on the metal object. Boisterously, she walked to the front of the classroom, hushing the kids around her and then starting the lesson. Everyone sat down and attempted to pay attention to the multiplication signs appearing on the dry-erase board.
The rest of the day went by quickly, and all I remember was a few day dreams and erasing marks on the desks with my Ticonderoga pencils. Soon enough, it was time to pack up. Everyone was to go out into the
hallway, retrieve their backpacks, and return to the classroom.
When I returned to the classroom, the buses were already being called. There was a group of boys over at one end of the classroom, trading the famous Magic cards. I walked over, intrigued by their
discussion. There was a boy, who holding a card and talking about it. Girlie, he called it. I walked over, curious about the nature
of the card. He held it so I could look at it, and once the picture ran through my brain I was amazed. It was the most beautiful card I had ever seen: a unicorn.
The unicorn was in the night of the desert, galloping across the darkened area. The stars sparkled beautifully, making the picture all the better. I wanted it, so badly.
I looked up at the boy’s face, his big eyes and freckles furrowed in confusion.
“You actually want this??” he asked, obviously astounded that anyone would want the card.
“Y-y-yeah, I do.”
“Fine with me!” he said, relieved that the embarrassing card was off his grungy hands.
I took the card gently, afraid I would bend its fragile corners or scratch the delicate illustration. I thought it was the greatest thing in the world.
Looking back, I remember the classroom as a blurry place. The Magic game is now the most geeky thing in the school; nobody plays it anymore. Of course, I exaggerated the beauty of the card. Now remembering that day, it is just a trinket used to jog my memory. But the boy still goes to my school, and I still have the card that he gave me five years ago.