Nihilistic Buddy Cop Grade Schoolers

JC glared at the 3rd grader who was laughing at him.   The kid had his little cult of personality at his back, more focused on the feared leader than the supposedly hated enemy, and they laughed at the kid’s version of wit and biting insults.   JC pulled himself to his feet, slowly, trying not to watch Ted navigating the playground behind them while knotting a rubber jump rope around his fist.   “You’re starting something you’ll regret,” JC said quietly.   “I’m not afraid of your spooky family,” the kid laughed.   “It’s not something I’ll do,” JC said, “It’s what you’ll do.   Again and again and again.   This moment.   This response.   This casual cruelty.   It doesn’t matter.   It doesn’t erase that your father resents you for cutting into his alone time with your mother.   It doesn’t erase the coolness in his words when he talks to you or the naked resentment that makes him work late to avoid having to put you to bed.   It doesn’t erase your mother crying because