Year 6

Year 6

Heros

Now if I didn’t tell you this do you think you would know Wren Wells (or as she prefers to be called Wren the Wrecking Ball) is not a real super hero but a young seven year old primary school student with an imagination to admire and I am here for the journey; the journey of disappointment and doubt of happiness and fear all weighing on the small shoulders of a wanna be superhero.
I’ll let wren tell you her own story as I’m only here for the drama and effect.

Captain’s log 5th of April 2022
‘’ I am Wren the Wrecking Ball the best superhero in England and maybe in the world. Here I am in my secret base planning to face up against my arch-enemy Mr fluffy my neighbour’s terrifying cat!’’
‘’Honey, breakfast,’’bellowed the funniest most playful grown up I know. My dad. Opening my blinds onto the turf of grass in my front garden in the crime centre of England, London and powering down my super hero base, closing my captain’s log and rushing down stairs with one swoop of my hand sewed cape.

‘’Here you are Wren my wrecking ball. Finally ready for breakfast,’’chuckled my dad.
‘’A super hero’s schedule is barely ever free. You should consider yourself lucky,’’ I remarked back.
‘’Eat up my little wrecking ball or we’ll be late for school,’’

‘’Dad you should never rush a superhero especially when they’re trying to eat their favourite breakfast ,’’ I said fully remembering that my playful silly adult of a dad was the one person who could make me the delicious pancakes I love to eat and that he would never make me feel bad by saying it.
Smoothing my skirt and buckling my boring black shoes, pulling my unruly hair into two pigtails and sadly leaving my superhero gear behind at my house, I set off for school, book-bag in hand and cardigan buttoned up striding across pavestones and patches of neatly grow grass before walking into school.

The way I see my school and London its self is a hot spot for solving mysteries and capturing criminals but before I enter that world I just have to say goodbye to my best friend and the person who’s always willing to play, my dad! With one soggy kiss on the cheek (that I wiped off instantly) and a hug. I went into school the expectation of what could happen in the day putting a huge smile on my face.
Class, the place I learn tactics for beating my enemies but also the place I have to learn about shapes and silly things to put at the end of my sentences. But to my surprise the morning flew by (like me when I’m wearing my cape and speeding threw the London skyline).

Finally; play time. The time of the day I can fully unleash my superhero insides and I get to do it with other children in my class. Don’t get me wrong my dad is an excellent sidekick but its just not the same.

’Hey, guys want to play superhero with me. You guys can be my sidekicks,’’ I said fully expecting them to say yes straight away .But for a few seconds silence brewed in the air and a terrible feeling welled up in my head, the thought they might say no the fact maybe I wasn’t grown up enough to be their friends and then they spoke.
‘’You see we don’t really play those games anymore they’re a bit lame and if you still play them maybe you should hang out with the year 1 and 2’s ,’’ Sophia said proudly in a tone I hadn’t encountered before a tone that seemed nice but deep down everyone knew it wasn’t.

’Yeah sorry Wren you should probably play with someone else,’’ explained Mia. They turned their backs and I felt the world change before me all the superhero opportunity all the colour and fun it just disappeared and then my feet started to move lifting of the ground and again and again until I was curled up in a ball at the end of the once vibrant green fun field poring my tears out like a steam that would never end.

The rest of the day I felt as if I would never be happy again. Not day dreaming of fighting off Mr Fluffy or writing in my captains log not even playing with my new super hero gadget belt or playing the best games with my dad. I was no longer Wren the wrecking ball I had finally been defeated not even by an atomic bomb or lazers or washing powder to my cape (Wren’s allergic if you didn’t know) no instead I finally realized my actual weakness the thought that I’m too baby for my friends that I’m too little, that my imagination is not an amazing thing to have but a huge burden.

The day at school was finally over: I could go home and slump down on my bed and clear all my superhero things into my wardrobe and leave them there forever. So I could have a new slate; so I could like what everyone else likes; so I could be like everyone else; so I was no longer unique, no longer me!

My dad’s mini-van pulled up with its big bumper stickers and small scrapes and scratches. His face was bright and smiley but as soon as he saw the tears welling in my eyes, he rushed out and picked me up whispering words in my ear. He placed me in my car seat the head rest wrapping around me like a cushiony hug. The seat was worn and black with doodles of superhero’s scraped into the plastic of the head rest. All I could hear were the words of my dad trying to figure out was wrong but I wouldn’t mutter a sound besides the thoughts pilling on top of each other in my head.

We arrived at the place I call home with all its brick walls, chalk drawings covering every in of the house and the small vibrant lawn covered with daisies and wild flowers growing so high it seemed like a mid-city jungle. Dad opened the car door unbuckling me out of my seat and helping me out of the car onto the gravel and down the steps to the porch where I took off my shoes and hung my book-bag on a peg, ran up the narrow stairs onto the landing and through into my room leaving my dad behind with no explanation.