I can still smell thick, dirty air that choked the elementary school playground every day after school. It was a cloud of sand and kid-sweat that only dispersed in time to be rejuvenated again the next day. When I was little, that smell was the best thing on earth. It meant recess, a time that no teacher or child could ruin for me. It was pure, and no matter how rowdy the kids got, I knew they were innocent at heart. After all, we were only in second grade.

 But now, that smell reminds me of how vicious second-graders can be. It’s true that a large percentage of elementary schoolers have not yet been exposed to the evil of Big-Kid-World. It’s a place I dared not to go, for the acne-covered, hormone-pumped behemoths that stomped across the parking lot were a scary sight to behold. I felt bad for little brothers—having to live in the shadow of a giant. They tried their best to act old. But that’s the thing about elementary schoolers; they don’t know what being old is really like yet. For one specific group of second graders, “being old” meant throwing rocks at a snake.

 I was going into fourth grade. My mom and her friend, Jodi, were sitting on blanket by the soccer fields, cheering on my little brother, who hadn’t realized yet that he hated soccer. It was a melting July day. You could boil sweat on the sidewalk. But Tyler and I didn’t care.

 Tyler is Jodi’s son, who was going into fourth grade as well, at Gilmanton Middle School. We liked hanging out with each other, and usually got along pretty well. Sometimes it felt like we should have never become friends. Where I tried to be polite and submissive, Tyler was outspoken and free-thinking. It’s good that he was at that soccer game; if he wasn’t there, I don’t know what would have happened to that snake.

Tyler and I were screwing around on the playground, feeling like powerful gods in a world of babies. As we sprinted across the gravel, Tyler noticed a large group of elementary kids screaming and squawking on a hill near the basketball hoops. We couldn’t tell why they were cheering and walked over to investigate. We maneuvered our way through the second graders to the center of the commotion, where we found a snake being pummeled with rocks by a kid a year younger than us. The snake was bleeding from its tail and zig-zagging around in a circle, obviously disorientated from the whole ordeal. The kid who was throwing rocks looked like he had never gotten so much attention in his life, and with every cheer and holler, threw harder. He was seriously trying to kill it.

I was dumbfounded; I’d never seen a snake before, and I’d been taught to fear them by my apprehensive mother. The warnings and precautions I had been told about them was enough to make me want nothing to do with the whole situation. After all, if I were to go near the snake, it would bite my leg and I would die a horrific death.

But Tyler felt much differently. “Hey!” he intervened. “Stop throwing rocks!”

“No,” said the kid throwing rocks.

Tyler had had enough.

Tyler quickly picked the snake up with both hands and pushed his way back through the crowd. For a second, everyone was angry. But Tyler’s cold demeanor prevented anyone from stopping him.  They all just stood there, helpless. The kid throwing rocks screeched a little but made no attempt to interfere. Eventually, the group just evaporated, leaving the rock-throwing kid alone on the sidewalk.

I ran after Tyler, and we trekked aimlessly around the playground. One of the girls in the crowd of elementary schoolers approached us once the group had fizzled out. The girl told us that the rock-throwing kid really just wanted to hold the snake for a little bit. I was suspicious, but Tyler didn’t seem wary at all. I think he was so in control at that point that he knew the kid wouldn’t dare hurt the snake in front of him. We strolled over to the kid, who was pouting his eyes out. He sat with his knees up by his nose, looking angrily off into the grass.

Tyler looked down at him, already annoyed. “Do you want to hold it?”

The kid refused to look at either of us, furious at how we took attention away from him. “No,” he mumbled.

And that was the end of it. Tyler has no patience when dealing with annoying kids. We promptly walked off, leaving the kid to wallow in his misfortune. The moral of this story is to not be a pouty nitwit when someone offers you something.

The snake’s tail had a long cut traveling along its black and yellow stripes. It was bleeding pretty bad (for a snake), and we decided to wash it off with the hose near the elementary school garden. As we walked to the garden, I stayed a safe distance away from the snake, sure it would bite me if I didn’t. Tyler wasted no time confronting me on this.

“What’s wrong?” he said. The snake moved its head up to me, like it was curious too.

I was worried it smelled my terror, like they do in the movies, and shuffled a little further away from Tyler. But I would never admit to Tyler that I was afraid of anything, no matter how obvious it was. “Nothing,” I said.

He was on to me. “Do you want to hold it?” He said.

“I’m cool,” I lied.

“No you’re not,” he argued. “Why don’t you want to hold the snake?”

I folded. “Because it could bite me, dude.”

Tyler scoffed. “It doesn’t have any teeth.”

I had so many questions. First, I asked, “How do you know?”

“It’s a garter snake,” he explained. “They don’t even have poison.” He kissed the snake right on the lips. The snake flicked its tongue back at Tyler. “Just touch its head,” he urged.

I timidly nudged my finger closer and closer to the snake’s creepy, flicking tongue. But right before I felt the snake’s leathery forehead, I pulled back. I could’ve sworn that monster almost bit me.

Tyler became fed up with my cowardliness very quickly. “It’s not gonna bite you! Come on.” He moved the snake closer to me.

I was terrified, but my fear of snakes was overpowered by my fear of Tyler. I put my finger on the snake’s nose, gently as possible. It did not bite me.

It was a weird feeling, being able to do something that I thought was deadly-dangerous like thirty seconds ago. I felt like showing people.

Tyler and I marched around the area for a while, showing kids the snake, telling them about our dramatic encounter. We gained a following of little kids who all wanted to hold the snake. But Tyler didn’t allow it; we had lost all faith in elementary schoolers. Right after we showed our moms (who freaked out appropriately), we decided it was time to put the snake back where it belongs: in the shade. We left the snake under the rock wall, far away from the snot-nosed kid.

The whole situation on that hot summer day taught me three things that I wish I had known beforehand. First off, some kids are the devil. We shouldn’t assume innocence in a kid who’s beating a snake to death with rocks. Secondly, conquer your fears, especially the ones that don’t make any sense. Finally, when you put a snake down, put it in the grass where you found it, otherwise it’ll get confused and probably die.