{"id":162,"date":"2025-09-17T15:43:01","date_gmt":"2025-09-17T08:43:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/?p=162"},"modified":"2025-09-18T13:37:52","modified_gmt":"2025-09-18T06:37:52","slug":"scraped-knee-and-scraped-pride","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/2025\/09\/17\/scraped-knee-and-scraped-pride\/","title":{"rendered":"2. SCRAPED KNEE AND SCRAPED PRIDE"},"content":{"rendered":"

Prompt: Every cloud has a silver lining.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2. Scraped knee and scraped pride<\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was summer.<\/p>\n

Stolen gas station candies filling both his pockets to the brim, little Mason rides his bike like there\u2019s no tomorrow. The sun was shining in his path, and he took the opportunity to go even faster. Maybe it was the universe’s way of telling him to race. His laugh rumbles the empty-streeted town, occasionally stealing glances over his shoulder to see if anyone might be on his tail. The curls of his chocolate hair whip against his forehead, so he can\u2019t clearly make out every face he comes across, but as long as it wasn\u2019t the lanky guy with the gas station uniform, he will be just fine.<\/p>\n

Mason cycles on, and on, and on\u2026 Through various buildings, his eyes are on the lookout for his house. But again, maybe that wouldn\u2019t be such a great idea. His mother is home, probably still baking casseroles, and she never gave Mason money for snacks or sorts for today. If Mason returns home with his pockets full of unbought candies, his mother would drive him back to the gas station store, make him apologize to the store clerk, and then return the candies.<\/p>\n

He laughs, looking over his shoulder again. Still an empty street<\/i>. Fixing his eyes forward, he couldn\u2019t comprehend what was in front of him until he flew off his bike, landing on the hot tarmac as the sound of plastic wrappings sprinkled to the ground; all the candies made an escapade from Mason\u2019s small pockets.<\/p>\n

He yelped, only for a second, Mason thought, even though it was of a scream that lasted for three seconds.<\/p>\n

Mason struggles to stand up with all his might, his scratched palms lifting him, although he only manages to stay on all fours. Even with that, his whole body was already shaking. He hissed as soon as his knees made contact with the ground. Looking down, a splotch of dark red is visible on his right knee; the other was a nasty bruise. Albeit the empty street and the fact that nobody was watching, his vision starts to blur as tears build up in his eyes. Mason knows no one saw him fall, but he never falls<\/i>. It hurt more than the scraped knee, because Mason couldn\u2019t see the wound, but he knew it was there\u2014carving his heart out. He should have been more careful. To keep his eyes on the road, as her mother would always say. He is not some loser who can\u2019t ride a bike.<\/p>\n

\u201cOuch…\u201d a stranger\u2019s voice sent an alert to Mason. He quickly looked up, noticing another boy his age on the ground. He doesn\u2019t seem as injured as Mason, but his bike… \u201cYour knees,\u201d the stranger said, making eye contact with Mason.<\/p>\n

Mason took a quick glance at his knees, even though he knew it was already bleeding and swelling. He raised his head again, eyes drawn to the bicycle belonging to the stranger. \u201cYour bike.\u201d<\/p>\n

The stranger slowly stands up. Mason can tell from his eyes that he is still processing the minor mishap that just happened. His eyes then went to his bike, split in half. \u201cMy dad just bought it for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mason swallowed a lump. I\u2019m sorry<\/i>, he thought. But the words didn\u2019t come out.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

They both stare at each other.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

Another few seconds of stillness.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you,\u201d the stranger finally said. \u201cYou\u2019re Mason.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mason furrows his brows. \u201cHow do you know that? Maybe I\u2019m Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBill the blond,\u201d he replied with a shrug, or more like an attempt<\/i> to shrug without wincing in pain. \u201cYou\u2019re Mason like the bison. Bison have brown fur, like your hair.\u201d<\/p>\n

The frown on Mason\u2019s face hasn\u2019t ceased. He doesn\u2019t know whether he should be offended or not, because the stranger actually had a good point. No one has associated him with a bison before, but come to think of it, Mason thought it was cool.<\/p>\n

The stranger groaned, holding and kneading his purple elbow, as purple as Mason\u2019s left knee. \u201cCan you stand up?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mason shook his head. Can\u2019t the guy see he\u2019s bleeding?<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to get that fixed before it\u2019s infected.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mason shook his head once more. \u201cMy house is still far.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMine\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n

The stranger approached Mason. He slowly knelt to wrap his uninjured arm around Mason\u2019s shoulder, carrying him up with that same groan.<\/p>\n

Mason scowled. He tries to fight off the aid, but instead, his muscles lean against the stranger. \u201cI\u2019m fine- are we leaving our bikes behind?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe can get them later. No one is gonna steal broken bicycles.\u201d One step at a time, the stranger holds Mason by his side.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut mine\u2019s not broken!\u201d Mason whined. He looked behind, only to find his argument to be false. Although his bike didn\u2019t split in half like the stranger\u2019s, one of the handlebars flew off, the saddle is lopsided, and the crankarm with the pedal is nowhere to be found. That was never a good look.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop crying, unless you want people to hear you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mason scoffed off his tears. \u201cI\u2019m not!\u201d he cried.<\/p>\n

The blazing sun above them didn\u2019t help at all. Mason\u2019s body was burning, just as his tears burn against his sunburnt cheeks. His head was pounding, and both his knees were throbbing. He couldn\u2019t hear the chirping birds as much as his heavy breaths were all he could pick up on.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes it hurt that much?\u201d The stranger\u2019s voice broke off his focus against his heavy breaths.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Mason breathed out.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, every cloud has a silver lining<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mason faces the stranger. He blinked. \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat there\u2019s always something good behind something bad. My dad always says that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat can possibly be good about this? I can\u2019t walk.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno,\u201d the stranger said, looking over at Mason. \u201cDoes your dad give you chores?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have a dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

That made the stranger falter for a second before finally coming up with another question: \u201cDoes your mom give you chores?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d But what if<\/i> Mason didn\u2019t have a mom? What would the stranger ask? That is, whether his guardian<\/i> gives him chores or not?<\/p>\n

\u201cThen you won\u2019t have to worry about that anymore. You have a broken knee.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mason hated<\/i> the fact that he wanted to laugh, at least chuckle for a bit. But he managed to conceal it. \u201cIt\u2019s not broken.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t walk without me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd who exactly are you?\u201d Mason asked, unsure if his tone was too harsh for the stranger. That\u2019s because he knows every kid in his neighborhood, in the whole town. But he doesn\u2019t seem to even recognize this freckled boy with the unkept orange hair, and he doesn\u2019t know if he should trust this boy who\u2019s walking him to his house. A stranger\u2019s house. Yet Mason\u2019s heart doesn\u2019t tell him otherwise.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just moved in,\u201d the stranger said. \u201cI\u2019m Peter.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Prompt: Every cloud has a silver lining.   \u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8\u2ad8   2. Scraped knee and scraped pride   It was summer. Stolen gas station candies filling both his pockets to the brim, little Mason rides his bike like there\u2019s no tomorrow. The sun was shining in his path, and he took the opportunity to go even […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22420,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,10],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-162","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-creative-writing-class","category-english"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/162","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22420"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=162"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/162\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":165,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/162\/revisions\/165"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=162"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=162"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.unpad.ac.id\/sabila24003\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=162"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}