A narrative, including Grandparents

He sat in a tightly wrapped ball, careful not to let his face show. It worked well. It was such a clever disguise that even the clusters of girls, who know everyone, especially the boys, couldn't identify him. "Hi Alec.", called the chittering amoeba gliding past to the playground. It wasn't at all worth his energy to speak, "No, it's not Alec. It's Sam." It looks dumb to talk with your head between your legs- with your voice coming from your crotch?, and there's no good way to look up while wiping away tears like it's nothing.
It was nothing. They decided to play four-square with a basketball because they couldn't find the real ball and he wasn't looking and he got hit in the face. But it really hurt. The urge to cry and the promise not to duked it out as he ran. When he got inside the school he wasn't really sure what to do next, so this tightly wrapped ball was what he did.
He sat with his head tucked between his crossed arms and listened to the clips of voices and the different rhythms of feet. He thought about how much longer he'd have to be at school before he got to go home. He tried to remember which house he was going to after school, Mom's or Dad's. If it's Mom, then this is the weekend they go up north to his Grandma's cottage. It's not really a cottage, it's more like a trailer. It is a trailer. His cousins might be there, but probably not his Grandma. If it's Dad's weekend, they might go up there and then they might not- his Dad works alot, even on the weekends, so he might get taken up north but then he'd have to hang out with his cousins by himself. Or then maybe his Grandma would come. Sitting on the floor, just outside the office, tucked into his neat ball, Sam decided that he would build a fire in the woods this weekend. Probably he could get his cousins to fish with him. The bell rang, kids rushed in and all around. Sam stood up, pretended to push his long, blonde bangs back from his face and joined the crowd back up to class.