The Frisbee Incident

The Frisbee Incident - student project

Hi! Here is my first draft (1000+ words) of autobiographical fiction. I chose my first souvenir of injustice (also, I should add that I am french, English is not my mother's tongue that's why I might have used a simple language, and made a few mistakes).

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No matter how vigorously I pleaded my innocence. No matter how loud I pledged it wasn’t me. No matter how honest and persuasive I believed I was being, it soon struck me that I was alone in this truth and that none of the two adults sitting in this old, dark and smelly classroom were inclined to give a little hope to my story.

Being 5 years old and an only child, my safest escape should have been to cry with incomprehension in my mother’s arm and use her silky blouse as a reusable tissue. Even though I tried my best to ensure the success of this plan, ruining her shiny and expensive green top in the process, my thirty-something black hair mother simply had no interest in the facts. 

It made no doubt to her that I was the one who had crashed the frisbee on the dry and unwelcoming tar during lunch break, that I was guilty of the dismemberment of this poor red plastic plate and that now, by my own and unique fault I was preventing dozens of little souls to have fun with that toy. It made no doubt to her because the headmistress herself told her so. And Miss Motsnoir was my mother’s friend. 

 

A few weeks before my misfortune, my father and I were playing at the back of our house. We shared a common garden with my grandparents. As my grandmother Mona was a plant-lover before it was a thing, the curvy landscape that hosts her addiction was an Eden. The rhubarb leaves were so dense that I knew exactly were to rush to find the biggest chocolate egg during Easter’s hunt. Contrary to my comrades, I had a sort of slugophobia therefore the area were the strawberries grew was a no-go for me. Instead I was bewitched by the vivid red of the cherries and their cottony flesh that made them more delectable than a candy. My elders never seemed too scared that I could reach a glycemic peak of cherry sugar within a minute and always let my gluttony goes.

After dinner, when the sun was still up and the subtle wind was still warm, my father and I used to spend an hour or two outside together, playing games, harvesting fruits and vegetables, walking in the vineyard nearby. Even today, these moments are an anchor of peacefulness, calm and quietude. But this evening was a little special and I was excited, my father gave me a brand new frisbee… It looked so futuristic, had the shape of a ring, was dressed in deep black, translucent grey and fluorescent yellow, and was made of a gummy-like material. We spent hours playing, I ran to the hazel bush to make sure it didn’t fall on the grass, then climbed the hill to the plum tree where it stayed hanged for a few minutes before my father released it. My dad was laughing, sincerely, as if he was a kid himself. I had never seen him smile so genuinely; a feeling of pride was investing my heart for I had managed to make my father truly happy.

  

Why was I leaning alone on the white metal posts that smelled of rust and on which the paint was crumbling? I once saw the baker’s daughter pass out because she had hit this vertical structure after rolling on a ball and therefore I had decided I would never hang-out in this part of the playground. Why wasn’t I building castles in the narrow square filled with sand, surrounded by three wooden logs and a low stone wall as usual? To this mystery remains no answer. Fate made me the sole witness of the assassination of the primary school’s frisbee. 

It was no secret to the schoolyard’s inhabitants that 5 years old Fiona and Robin were engaged in a romantic affair, some even said they had kissed. I didn’t appreciate these two rascals whom I found mean. Robin’s face was so sharp and severe that he already had the serious traits of an adult. Fiona's laugh was so high-pitched that I thought it was a proof of the wickedness that run threw her veins.

Training with my dad, I had gained good skills in terms of Frisbee manipulation so when I saw how Goofily Fiona had thrown the disk, I knew there was no chance Robin could honor their exchange by catching it. But instead of letting go, instead of facing the shame that Fiona would inflict him for being such a weak buddy, he jumped and raised his hand forward. Too late, the Frisbee was already on its descendant path. By the time he fell back to his feet, the plastic ring had already landed, sliding on the ground in a chaotic noise. His run stopped just below where Robin’s shoe was going to crash.

When Miss Motsnoir turned and asked who did this, Fiona designated me. Nobody else had seen the trajectory of the frisbee and without further trial I was asked to leave the sunny and joyful schoolyard and to return to the empty classroom. I was left with a painful and radiating feeling of solitude and treason. I observed a beautiful lesson of love, friendship and devotion except it ended up in me being wrongly accused.

  

 At the end of the day, my mother entered the class. I was relieved that someone was finally disposed to listen to me and clear me from all charges. Miss Motsnoir told her everything about the incident as if she had attended it. Except she hadn’t. Surprisingly, my mother’s eyes were watered with anger, she was disappointed, horrified that I lied and accused the lovely little Robin. I was unprepared for this. I had no resource, no idea how to behave, no history of injustice to refer to. I was let down by my only ally. Then, as the whole room was turning into a black monochrome jail, my mother casually added to her friend, “Don’t worry for the frisbee Chris, her father just bought her a new one, I will bring it to school tomorrow”. What? No! I was heartbroken, I was betrayed for the second time today. I thought of my father. Had I just been deprived of the possibility of seeing his revigorating and childish smile again? 

Has he believed me that day? I don't have a clue, for this Frisbee incident probably meant nothing to both my parents, but it sure did to me. I became an adult with a deep hatred of injustice and disloyalty, I grew up to become a great listener to my friends and relatives.
Now, years later, I feel like this unfair Frisbee incident finaly came back to me as a rewarding boomerang.