Jim got a new truck for his birthday, a nice yellow Tonka truck, and he carries it with him everywhere. When he gets up in the morning, he plays with it in front of the TV while he eats his breakfast, and some nights he sneaks it into his room and sets it under his blankets, even though he knows his mom will get mad the next morning when she makes his bed and finds sand and dirt collecting in the folds of his fitted sheet. If she would let him take it to school with him, he would do that too, but instead he leaves it on the picnic table in the backyard next to the sandbox and waves goodbye to it like it’s real and will miss him when he’s gone.
Jim loves his truck.
So on the first weekend in July, just days after school has let out for the summer, Jim proudly marches his truck to the playground in the school yard down the block from his house, sits down in the sand, and sets about creating a summer full of sunrise to sunset memories with the best present a six-year-old boy could ever receive.
He doesn’t really notice the crimpy-haired girl swinging on the swings, in the hot pink jersey dress, with the black bow in her hair and wearing striped stockings and her sister’s bangles and hoop earrings because the Madonna look is so in right now, until the other boys start to tease her. He recognizes some of them from school, but wonders how they know her because she was not in Jim’s grade one class and he’d never seen before anywhere else.
He looks at her, feeling a strange sensation that his mom calls “empathy” when he sees her pretty face with her eyes downcast as she swings. One of the boys – his name is Michael and he used to sit behind Jim in class – is kicking sand absently towards the swing set, missing the pretty girl entirely, but it still makes Jim mad. Another boy, who for some reason completely idolizes Michael – his name is Dwight – is laughing and pointing at the girl. Jim hears them now; they are making fun of her name.
“Pam Beesly,” Michael says with a laugh. “Sounds like Spam Beeswax.”
“Yeah, Spam Spam Spam,” Dwight echoes.
“Does Spam Beeswax like ham?” Michael asks.
“Green eggs and ham?” Dwight thinks he’s being clever. “From a can?”
Jim stands up, not even really sure why, and grabs his truck before marching across the sand to where the boys are standing. The girl – Pam Beesly, he rolls the name over in his mouth and it reminds him of red jellybeans – looks up and him and blushes before looking back down at her lap as she continues to swing alone.
Jim reaches the group. “You’re not being nice.” Jim was good at stating the obvious.
“We’re just having fun,” Michael says.
“Yeah, just having fun.”
Jim frowns, “Well I don’t think Pam is having fun.”
“Maybe she’s laughing inside,” Michael offers.
Jim remembers now that Michael wasn’t the brightest kid in class. He takes a deep breath and furrows his brow. “I don’t think so. Stop being mean.”
Michael laughs. “Not unless you stop… being dumb.”
Jim takes one more step closer, lifts his arm, and throws his favourite truck down into the sand, where it lands on Michael’s foot. Jim doesn’t like being mean, but he feels that it was the right thing to do, even if he hadn’t meant for it to hit the stupid boy’s foot at all. If Jim knew what the word “resolute” meant, he would have been able to describe how he felt as he walked over to the swings and smiled at the girl. She jumped off the swings and landed at his side, and with all the innocence of childhood – that is, if she knew what “innocence” meant – slipped her hand inside his.
“My name’s Pam. What’s yours?” she asks.
“Jim Halpert,” he smiles. She smiles back. They leave Michael crying in the sand while Dwight frets over whether Michael’s toe is broken. Jim doesn't even bother to pick up his truck; he just holds his arm straight and stiff as a plank while the girl with the pink dress and the Madonna accessories with the red jellybean name laces her fingers through his. He wonders if this meant he had a girlfriend.
That night, Jim goes to bed feeling older and wiser because he’d gotten to hold a pretty girl’s hand. A few blocks away, Pam stays up and tells her sister that, one day, she is going to marry Jim Halpert.
Story Notes:
Each chapter is totally un-related to the last one, and they may not have anything really to do with events in the show until later on. Slightly anachronistic, and with events totally unrelated to canon, so let's call it an Alternate Universe fic!
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Ignore for a moment that not all of the Office staff are the same age, and relish in the idea of grade one playground love! :) Enjoy!
