Hallam Fetches a Grown-Up

Hallam likes being trusted. He is twelve, the oldest of four at home, and he’s the one who walks his little sister to school and makes the toast on Sunday mornings. So when he became a Sidekick, he felt ready for anything.

On his third Saturday, a boy called Benji climbed to the top of the big soft cushion pile and jumped. He landed wrong, on his arm, and started to cry, a sharp, scared cry.

Hallam ran over. He knew Lowen’s three words, low, slow, close, and he got down low and said, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” But Benji was holding his arm in a strange way, and his face had gone white, and the crying wasn’t stopping.

Hallam’s thoughts raced. Maybe if he sat with Benji for a while, it would feel better. Maybe he could get some ice from somewhere. Maybe it was fine. He was supposed to be good at this. He didn’t want anyone to think he couldn’t handle it.

Then he remembered the rule Sola said every single Saturday: “You’re the play partner. You’re not the one in charge.”

Hallam stood up and went straight to the cooking class next door. He didn’t run, but he walked fast.

“Mrs Okafor,” he said to the Playroom leader, “Benji fell off the cushions and he’s holding his arm funny.”

Mrs Okafor was there in seconds. She checked Benji’s arm, fetched his dad from the class, and sorted out the rest. It turned out to be a sprain. Benji came back the next week with a bandage, quite proud of it.

Later, Hallam sat on the steps outside feeling strange. Sola sat down next to him.

“I thought I should have sorted it myself,” he said.

“That wasn’t yours to sort,” said Sola. “You did the most important thing: you noticed it was more than play, and you got a grown-up fast.”

Mrs Okafor came out too. “Hallam, that was exactly right,” she said. “That’s the job. You’re there to play. When it’s more than play, you come and get us.”

Hallam felt something unknot in his chest that he hadn’t known was tied up.

That’s the grown-up line. Sidekicks are good at lots of things: following, waiting, being a silly troll, copying, adding ideas, calming a fallen-tower meltdown. But some things are never a Sidekick’s job. Hallam teaches the new Sidekicks how to spot them:

If a child is hurt, fetch a grown-up.

If something looks unsafe, like a child near something dangerous, fetch a grown-up.

If a child is upset and nothing helps, or it feels much bigger than a fallen tower, fetch a grown-up.

If two kids are really fighting, not playing, fetch a grown-up.

If a child tells you something that worries you, fetch a grown-up.

And if you’re not sure? Fetch a grown-up anyway. Nobody will be cross with you for asking.

At home, Hallam still makes the toast and walks his sister to school. But he’s stopped thinking that being good with little kids means handling everything alone. He’s noticed that the grown-ups don’t want him to.

“Being a good big kid,” he says, “means knowing when to call a bigger one.”