Title: Friday the 13th of December
Author’s Note: Set in a suburban elementary school on a chilly morning, this story follows four friends—Sanjivram, Pranav, Ahaan, and Julian—through what they believe will be just another ordinary school day. Unbeknownst to them, the date is Friday, December 13th, a day rumored to bring strange luck. Though none of the boys believe in superstitions, small oddities begin to pile up. What starts off as a normal day takes a turn at recess, where three peculiar classmates—Salem, Jasmine, and Jaina—turn the playground into a game of wild chases and awkward hugs. The day continues with dance class and a science experiment that literally leaves its mark. Along the way, these moments of chaos, confusion, and camaraderie remind the boys that sometimes the unplanned and unexpected can become the memories that stick with you the longest.
It was early December, and the sky above Meadowview Elementary School was a bright, pale gray that promised a day without sunshine, but not necessarily gloom. The halls were filled with the smell of old books and heated vents, the distant squeak of shoes on polished tile.
As the doors opened at 8:20 AM, Sanjivram stepped inside, zipping his jacket as he tried to shake off the last of the morning chill. His friend Pranav followed closely, carrying a small plastic container that looked suspiciously like it held a home-baked brownie, or maybe some spare Lego pieces. Ahaan and Julian trailed just behind, yawning and talking in low voices about a new arcade game they wanted to try.
None of them paid much attention to the date. They were too busy with the excitement of the last few weeks before winter break. Friday, December 13th, wasn’t something they even considered special.
Sanjivram, the tallest of the group, had a knack for all things technical. He spent lunchtime tinkering with tablet settings and recess explaining coding concepts as if they were simple puzzles. Pranav, slightly shorter and quieter, was his perfect partner, working side-by-side to create small web games and digital art. They were often found hunched over a school Chromebook, typing away in quiet camaraderie.
Ahaan, with his big round glasses and bright grin, loved to learn. He collected facts like some kids collected trading cards. Julian, sandy-haired and quick-witted, provided the running commentary—he was the storyteller, always ready with a joke or a tease. Together, they made a balanced circle of friends: dreamers, builders, thinkers, and jokers.
By 8:00 AM, the four had settled into their homeroom, Room 4B. It was decorated with construction paper snowflakes and a long chain of green and red paper loops draped across the top of the whiteboard. Their teacher, Ms. Hernandez, was known for her warm smile and firm fairness. She had assigned them morning work: simple math problems and a short journal entry. After that, she allowed them to take out their projects.
Sanjivram and Pranav pulled out a small laptop from the classroom cart. On it, they had been quietly building a platformer game where a fox character collected berries to earn points. Ahaan finished his math quickly and moved on to his spelling words, and Julian sketched silly cartoons of foxes and berries on the back of his notebook to pass the time.
All morning, the boys worked steadily. They listened to announcements on the intercom, joined in on a quick lesson about fractions, and answered reading comprehension questions. Still, what they really looked forward to was recess. Rumor had it that the soccer goals had been moved for better drainage, opening up fresh spaces for play. They planned to test their new tag-based game or maybe invent a new set of challenges on the climbing structures.
They couldn’t wait: recess would start just after their snack break, around 10:15 AM.
Despite their excitement, the boys felt a minor worry nagging at the back of their minds. Three girls in their class—Salem, Jasmine, and Jaina—had a reputation for being, well, unusual. Salem pretended to be a dog or cat, crawling around the playground and hugging random classmates. She often trailed after her chosen “targets” and latched onto them without warning. Jasmine was gentler but had a habit of hugging anyone she “liked,” which could change day to day. Finally, Jaina seemed to play the role of Salem’s guardian or strategist, instructing Salem whom to chase.
The boys usually found this funny, if a bit unsettling. The trouble was that once the girls decided on someone to pursue, escaping often took the entire recess. Today, they were determined to enjoy their break without such disruptions.
During a quiet moment before snack, Julian noticed Salem tapping her pencil in a rhythmic way, whispering to Jaina. He nudged Ahaan and nodded in their direction.
“I wonder what they’re planning,” Ahaan said softly.
“Who knows,” replied Julian. “Maybe they’ll target someone else this time.”
Sanjivram, overhearing, tried to be optimistic: “They might be too busy. Remember, it’s getting colder outside, maybe they won’t run around hugging people today.”
Pranav shrugged but seemed unconvinced. He had been “hug-attacked” by Salem just last week while attempting to test out a new game idea in peace.
At 10:00 AM, Ms. Hernandez allowed them a short snack period. The boys ate crackers, some fruit, and sipped water. They chatted quietly, going over their plans for recess.
“Let’s play on the new structure first,” suggested Pranav.
“Then we can move to the field. I want to try that new passing game,” said Ahaan, grinning as he remembered a trick he read about online for speed-tagging.
Sanjivram nodded. He was the problem-solver. If Salem and the others came by, he would help the group find clever escape routes.
The moment had finally arrived. At 10:15, the teachers lined up their classes at the door and led them out to the playground. Meadowview Elementary’s playground was expansive: two main structures separated by a blacktop, a grassy field beyond, and a smaller “quiet area” with benches and a stone reading circle. The boys scanned their surroundings, looking for Salem, Jasmine, and Jaina.
At first glance, it seemed normal. Just kids running, playing, shouting. The old swing set creaked, and the basketball court echoed with bouncing balls. Recess was in full swing.
With no immediate sign of trouble, the four boys relaxed. They jogged to the large play structure with a spiral slide, monkey bars, and a short rock-climbing wall. The morning sky remained gray, but not threatening. Perfect for tag games without the glare of sunshine.
They climbed, jumped off platforms, and invented mini-challenges. Pranav tried to race across the monkey bars, Ahaan timed him, and Julian pretended to be a game-show host narrating the event. Sanjivram watched the perimeter, his eyes occasionally flicking to where Salem and Jaina might appear.
Not long after they began playing, Salem’s distinct voice rose above the chatter. She was making a purring sound, then a barking sound—an odd mixture that turned heads. Jaina followed her, whispering instructions. The two girls approached the boys’ playground platform.
“Uh oh,” Julian muttered. “Showtime.”
Ahaan tensed, gripping the edge of the platform. Pranav sighed, and Sanjivram raised a hand: “Guys, just move calmly. Maybe we can slip away before she gets too excited.”
Salem crawled on her hands and knees, making playful growls and meows, while Jaina stood behind her, scanning the crowd. Jaina pointed directly at Julian first. Salem sprang into action, lunging forward.
The boys scattered instantly. Julian hopped down a small ladder, Sanjivram ducked behind a platform, Ahaan slid down the pole, and Pranav hopped onto a stepping stone.
But Salem was quick. She darted around one side of the structure, forcing Julian to scramble onto the grass. Ahaan tried to distract Salem by waving his arms. Pranav called, “Over here, Salem!” trying to lure her away. But no luck—Salem locked onto Julian first, then switched her attention toward the cluster of boys together.
Hugs might sound harmless, but to the boys, Salem’s hugs were more like traps that ended their games. She’d cling on, giggling, and the target would have to wait until she let go. Not painful, but definitely awkward and disruptive.
As Salem charged forward, Julian ducked behind Sanjivram. Sanjivram tried to weave around her, making space. They managed to slip free, scattering once more, but Salem continued to pursue.
Seeing no easy escape, Sanjivram shouted, “To the other playground! Go!”
Pranav nodded and broke into a sprint. The others followed, dashing across the blacktop, past a group of kids playing four-square. The second playground was smaller, meant for younger students, but it had a low rock-climbing wall and a few balance beams that could make for a clever getaway.
They arrived slightly out of breath. Ahaan rubbed his eyes under his glasses, Julian caught his breath, and Pranav surveyed the area. Sanjivram checked behind them: Salem and Jaina weren’t immediately in sight. For a moment, it seemed they had escaped.
They started to relax, chatting quietly about what to do next. Suddenly, Jasmine appeared from behind the slides, her long ponytail swishing. She smiled sweetly at Ahaan, batting her eyelashes. Jasmine was less erratic than Salem, but she still hugged with unexpected fervor. She often singled out someone she found particularly “nice” or “cool,” and today it seemed that was Ahaan.
Ahaan gulped. “Uh, hi, Jasmine.”
She stepped forward, arms open, ready for a hug.
Julian tried to step between them. “Jasmine, maybe we can just talk?”
But Jasmine just giggled and reached for Ahaan. Ahaan dodged behind Pranav. Pranav tried to lead Jasmine away, but she circled around, smiling. Meanwhile, Jaina and Salem appeared at the edge of the playground, cutting off the boys’ retreat. They were trapped between Jasmine and the duo.
“This is bad,” said Julian softly.
Sanjivram nodded. The four boys formed a semicircle around Ahaan, who looked both flattered and horrified. Jasmine advanced slowly, as if this was a game of chess and she was about to checkmate the boys’ king.
Salem hissed playfully, Jaina rolled her eyes and made a motion with her hand—probably instructing Salem whom to chase next.
Before they could form a better plan, Salem rushed forward. She chose Sanjivram this time, possibly because he was the tallest and a challenge. She leaped and hugged him around the waist. Sanjivram stood there stiffly, unsure how to peel her off without being rude.
“Come on, Salem,” he said gently, “please let go.”
The other boys tried to help by distracting Jasmine, but now that Salem had Sanjivram, the dynamic changed. Jaina smirked, folding her arms.
After a few seconds of polite struggle, Salem released Sanjivram, who managed to slip free. He hurried to the rock-climbing board—this was a short wall that they could jump off to the mulch below. He beckoned to the others. “This way!”
One by one, they climbed the short wall and jumped down. Ahaan followed closely, grateful for an out. Pranav and Julian slid down next, with Sanjivram right behind them.
But as soon as Sanjivram’s feet hit the ground, he realized Jasmine had circled around to meet them. She stood blocking the path, arms open again. He froze, almost crashing into her.
Somehow, he managed to swerve, stepping aside at the last moment. The group managed to get past Jasmine, who seemed a little disappointed but not deterred. Now all four boys were running back toward the main playground, hearts pounding.
Just as the girls were closing in again, the whistle blew, signaling the end of recess. Teachers called for students to line up. The boys exhaled in relief, quickly mixing into the crowd and heading toward the school doors.
“I never thought I’d be happy to have recess end,” Julian grumbled.
“Me neither,” said Pranav, still catching his breath.
As they trudged back into the hallway, they tried to shake off the oddness of that recess. Ahaan looked at Sanjivram’s shirt. There was some mulch dust from where Salem had clung. Sanjivram brushed it off, sighing.
“Let’s just focus on the next part of the day,” said Ahaan. “At least inside, they can’t chase us like that.”
After recess, their class was scheduled for a rotation of special subjects. Today, they had Dance first, then Science. The boys followed the class down the corridor to the dance studio—really just the school’s small multipurpose room with a mirrored wall. Ms. White, the dance instructor, greeted them. She played cheerful instrumental music over the speakers.
The assignment: each group of students would learn a simple dance routine, and if time allowed, they’d create their own short move to perform for the class.
The boys lined up, following Ms. White’s instructions. She taught them a basic step-ball-change, a twirl, and a pose. It was a fun break from their ordinary routine. Julian tried to crack a joke about his “two left feet,” but ended up doing the moves decently well.
Ahaan loved learning new things, so he picked up the steps quickly. Pranav focused on getting the rhythm right. Sanjivram enjoyed watching his friends try something outside their comfort zone.
As the class practiced, the minutes ticked by. They were supposed to have a chance to show off their own improvised moves if there was time. Unfortunately, some of the other groups took longer, needing extra repetitions.
By the time the instructions were done and Ms. White asked if anyone had their own dance moves to share, the clock read only five minutes before the bell for the next special.
Sanjivram and Pranav had secretly been planning a small “tech-inspired” dance move where they mimed typing, then “debugging” with a funny spin, while Julian and Ahaan pretended to code on an invisible keyboard. It was silly, but they were looking forward to the laugh it would get.
Ms. White announced, “I’m sorry, guys, we’re out of time. We’ll try next time to see your original moves.”
The boys sighed. A minor disappointment, but compared to recess, it was small.
They left the dance room and walked to the science lab, a room filled with tall stools, counters, and posters of the solar system and the water cycle. Mr. Alston, the science teacher, was waiting for them with a tray of permanent magnets and nails. Today’s lesson: learning about magnetism and creating temporary magnets by stroking a piece of metal along a permanent magnet’s field lines.
Each pair of students received one permanent magnet, a few nails, and a worksheet. The goal was to rub the nail along the magnet in the same direction multiple times, aligning the domains and thus making the nail temporarily magnetic.
Sanjivram paired with Pranav naturally, and Ahaan paired with Julian. They listened intently as Mr. Alston demonstrated the technique.
Sanjivram held the magnet steady while Pranav carefully stroked the nail along it. Sanjivram watched closely, fascinated by the idea that a simple piece of metal could become magnetic.
Across the table, Ahaan and Julian tried the same, chuckling when their nails picked up a few paperclips that Mr. Alston had placed out for testing.
As Sanjivram focused on the nail, Pranav’s hand slipped. The nail slipped off the magnet and scratched along Sanjivram’s finger. It was a shallow scrape, but enough to break the skin slightly. Sanjivram hissed, dropping the magnet onto the tabletop.
“Are you okay?” Pranav asked, eyes wide.
Sanjivram winced, looking at a small bead of blood forming on his fingertip.
Mr. Alston rushed over with the first-aid kit. Sanjivram felt a little embarrassed—he knew it was an accident. The teacher gently cleaned the cut and applied a bandage. It stung, but not too badly.
Pranav apologized profusely. “I’m really sorry, Sanjivram!”
“It’s okay,” he replied, forcing a smile. “Just an accident.”
As the class wound down, Sanjivram looked at the bandage on his finger and thought about how strange the day had been. First, the chaotic recess where they were chased and cornered by hugging classmates. Then, in dance, they missed their chance to show their moves. Now, in science, a small mishap left him bleeding.
It was Friday the 13th of December, and maybe the day had a strange energy after all.
The special classes ended, and soon the bell for lunch would ring. The boys cleaned up their stations, returning magnets and nails. Ahaan helped pick up paperclips that had scattered on the floor. Julian wrote down their lab results on the worksheet. Pranav quietly cleaned and organized their space, still feeling bad about Sanjivram’s finger.
Sanjivram gave him a reassuring nudge. “Really, it’s fine. Just a scratch.”
On their way to the cafeteria, the four friends walked in a loose line, shoulders relaxed. They talked about the events with light humor now that the tension had passed. Julian joked, “Maybe I should have brought garlic to ward off hugging vampires.”
Ahaan corrected him, “They weren’t vampires! More like friendly were-cats and were-dogs.” They all laughed, albeit quietly.
In the lunchroom, the boys found their usual table. The chatter around them was lively—someone claimed the custodian saw a fox near the field, another said they’d found a rare Pokémon card in the coat room.
No one seemed to care much about the chasing girls. Maybe it happened so often that it wasn’t even noteworthy to others. But for the boys, it had been a defining moment of the morning.
Sanjivram took a bite of his sandwich. He thought about Salem, Jaina, and Jasmine. Despite their annoyance, the girls never actually harmed anyone. They just expressed affection in odd ways. If it wasn’t so embarrassing, maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal.
“Think they’ll be back at it tomorrow?” Pranav asked.
Ahaan shrugged. “Hard to say. You never know with them.”
After lunch, they would return to regular lessons. The afternoon promised a writing assignment and some quiet reading time. Considering the morning’s chaos, a calm afternoon sounded pleasant.
Julian planned to make up a silly story in writing time—maybe something inspired by their morning’s adventures. Ahaan wanted to dive into his new library book about astronomy. Sanjivram and Pranav would likely pick back up on brainstorming their next web game.
Between lunch and the next class, they passed a window overlooking the playground. It looked serene, empty, a world of still monkey bars and quiet slides. Hard to believe that just a short while ago, it had been the stage for their wild chase scene.
When they got back to the classroom, a few classmates asked about Sanjivram’s bandage. He explained it was just a small cut from science class. Someone joked, “Magnets can be dangerous!” and they all laughed.
Ms. Hernandez assigned a short creative writing prompt: “Describe a surprise you had today.”
The boys looked at each other and smirked. They definitely had material to choose from. Julian immediately scribbled about the recess chase. Ahaan wrote about unexpected hugs. Pranav wrote a fictionalized version with aliens that hugged people to learn Earth customs. Sanjivram wrote about turning a nail into a magnet and getting a “souvenir” cut.
After writing, Ms. Hernandez allowed silent reading. The boys settled into their chosen corners. The classroom was calm—no one was hugging, chasing, or running.
Sanjivram sighed with relief. Calm was good.
Time passed quickly. As the final bell neared, the boys started to pack their backpacks.
“I hope tomorrow’s recess is more normal,” Pranav said, sliding a book into his bag.
Julian grinned, “But normal is boring. Today we got a story out of it!”
When the final bell rang, the four stepped outside into the chilly December air. Parents and buses waited. They said their goodbyes and planned to meet online later to continue working on their computer game.
Ahaan noted, “At least we can code without anyone hugging us unexpectedly.”
They all laughed at that.
On the way home, Sanjivram flexed his finger where the bandage was. It didn’t hurt much now. His mind drifted over the day’s events. Was Friday the 13th really unlucky, or was it just a day like any other, filled with random incidents?
At home, each boy likely shared a part of the day’s story with their families. Perhaps some parents laughed, or shook their heads in confusion at why three girls would chase and hug their classmates.
That evening, as planned, Sanjivram, Pranav, Ahaan, and Julian logged into their chatroom to work on their game. The fox character in their platformer needed a new animation. Pranav coded while Sanjivram debugged. Ahaan provided fun ideas, and Julian tested the levels.
Working together reminded them that, no matter what happened at school, they always had each other’s backs. The recess fiasco was just another chapter in their long story as friends.
As they took a break from coding, Ahaan wondered aloud, “What if Salem, Jasmine, and Jaina just wanted friends and didn’t know how to show it?”
Julian mused, “Maybe hugging is their way of being friendly—just a bit too friendly for us.”
Pranav admitted he felt bad calling them ‘annoying.’ Maybe next time they could talk it out. Sanjivram nodded, contemplating a more diplomatic approach if it ever happened again.
Julian joked: “Maybe it’s all because it was Friday the 13th. Maybe tomorrow, everything will be normal again.”
Sanjivram chuckled. He didn’t believe in that, but it was a fun thought.
As they resumed coding, they found a small bug in their game. A berry would appear halfway through a wall. Pranav and Sanjivram worked to fix it, a tiny reminder that problems sometimes pop up unexpectedly—just like their day at school.
Before signing off for the night, Ahaan said, “Today was weird, but we survived. And we have a funny story to tell.”
They all agreed. Sometimes the strangest days become the most memorable.
That night, maybe one of them dreamed about running through the playground, chased by giggling girls, scaling rock walls, and leaping off slides. In the dream, maybe hugs were harmless and fun, and no one got hurt.
With only a week or so left before winter break, they had other things to look forward to: holiday projects, a class party, maybe a school assembly. The strange events of Friday the 13th would fade into a funny memory.
The following day, December 14th, was a Saturday. No school, no hugs from classmates, no magnet mishaps. It was calm and quiet. The boys could relax and forget about the chaos.
Over the weekend, maybe Julian told his older sister about the hugging chase. She rolled her eyes and said, “Kids are weird.” Ahaan might have told his cousin, who laughed out loud. Sanjivram might have recounted the story to a neighbor, who found it hilarious that someone pretended to be a cat-dog hybrid. Pranav might have drawn a comic strip about it.
By Monday, they might have learned to handle odd situations with more patience. Sanjivram decided that if Salem tried to hug him again, he would calmly explain that he didn’t like being hugged unexpectedly. Communication could help.
Back at school, Ms. Hernandez might have had her own view: kids find ways to express themselves differently. She would ensure everyone felt safe and comfortable. Maybe a quiet talk with Salem, Jasmine, and Jaina would follow.
The next time they went to dance class, Ms. White might give them the chance to show their moves. They could finally perform their silly coding dance, and everyone would laugh. The disappointment from Friday would be forgotten.
In science, Mr. Alston might remind everyone to be careful with materials. The scratch on Sanjivram’s finger would heal fully, leaving no scar but a memory of that unusual day.
In the grand scheme of things, what happened on Friday the 13th was minor—a weird recess, a missed opportunity in dance, and a small injury in science. But together, these moments showed that not every day goes as planned, and that’s okay.
Moments like these test patience, understanding, and humor. The boys’ friendship grew stronger, having navigated odd encounters and emerged laughing. They learned that support and quick thinking help in unexpected predicaments.
Weeks later, when winter break started, they might look back on that day and chuckle. They might even wonder if some kind of strange luck hovered in the air on Friday the 13th.
The playground, which had been a battlefield of sorts, was just a playground again. A place to run, play, and imagine. They realized that people bring life to these places—and sometimes bring chaos, too.
The hugs and chases highlighted differences in how people show friendship. The boys understood that everyone’s comfort zone is different. They also realized it’s okay to tell others when you’re uncomfortable.
Humor helped them process the odd events. Julian’s jokes and Ahaan’s commentary on “were-cats” turned frustration into something they could laugh about.
Just like coding a game together, friendship requires trial and error. You debug misunderstandings, you patch over awkward moments, and you celebrate when everything runs smoothly again.
They pondered why Jaina directed Salem. Maybe Jaina liked feeling in control, or maybe she was just playing a silly game in her own head. Understanding others’ motives isn’t always simple.
Jasmine, quieter yet determined, taught them not to underestimate someone just because they seem gentle. She knew how to corner them just as effectively as Salem did, without growling or barking.
The temporary magnet lesson paralleled their day. Just as the nail temporarily became magnetic, the day temporarily became hectic. In the end, both the nail’s magnetism and the day’s troubles faded.
Julian eventually wrote a short story based on the day’s events, exaggerating certain parts. He read it aloud to the others, who laughed at the dramatic interpretations. It helped them own the memory.
Parents might have offered their own wisdom: days like these happen. Kids grow, learn, and sometimes find themselves part of stories they’ll retell for years. The bandage on Sanjivram’s finger was off by then.
In time, the hugging incident became just another funny memory. They realized that what felt huge in the moment often becomes small and manageable later.
They allowed themselves to feel annoyed, then amused, and finally understanding. Emotional flexibility is a skill they picked up that day.
If Salem tried hugging again, the boys knew to speak up kindly: “I appreciate you wanting to show kindness, but I don’t feel comfortable with hugs.” Maybe Salem and the others would respect that.
The boys learned to appreciate ordinary days without drama. Sometimes a normal, uneventful day is a blessing. They realized that they enjoyed their simple routines and peaceful recess games.
“Do you think the date had anything to do with it?” Ahaan asked one afternoon. They all shook their heads, probably not, but it was fun to imagine that the date had cast a silly spell of chaos.
As December rolled on, winter holidays approached. Class parties, candy canes, and holiday songs replaced the memory of that odd Friday. The mood shifted to one of celebration.
They changed a bit after that day, just a tiny bit more patient, a bit more courageous in saying what they felt. Small experiences add up, shaping who they are.
On the last day before winter break, Sanjivram looked at his friends and smiled. They were the same four kids, just with another story under their belt. Outside, the playground waited, and inside, their minds held memories of a strange but harmless adventure.
As the months and years passed, they’d recall Friday the 13th of December fondly. It was the day Salem chased them like a cat-dog, Jasmine cornered Ahaan for a hug, and Jaina played puppet master. It was also the day they missed their dance debut and Sanjivram got a small cut in science class. Nothing catastrophic—just life being unpredictable.
And so, they learned that not every day is perfect, but every day can teach you something. The end.
The End