Liar, Liar
....and Troy nudged me in the arm, "you remember, while we were walking back we saw... The boys had bb-guns in hand, blowing out the windows and as the glass was breaking everywhere, we ducked low. We didn't want them turning those guns on us."
I peered from my best friend Troy, to the county sheriff who was looking me square in the eye.
"Yeah...sure," I mumbled. Did it really happen that way? I had no recollection of such a thing but still, maybe I forgot, maybe I was somewhere else in my thoughts. I probably wasn't seeing it the way that he was...so, okay, what Troy said, sure. I nodded in agreement.
"We have a squad at their house and we'll bring them around to make sure we nabbed the right kids." The sheriff clicked his pen and jotted something down on an official looking note pad. He closed it with a sweep through the air. In a simple movement, the notebook slid into his holster next to a very large gun.
"Troy," I whispered, "I don't remember any of that."
"Just let me do the talking...just let me speak for the both of us. You don't remember...that's okay, because I do."
I don't remember? What did I know? We were in the house eating lunch. My mom forced me to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She asked Troy about how his mom was faring after her surgery. My mother forced me to eat because I didn't wish to take a moment away from playing. I never did. Lunch was presented as "eat or else" with a side of apple wedges. Troy ate a sandwich as well, followed by three small glasses of ice cold milk. I loved milk too, in fact, it was my drink of choice.
We ran through the backyard to the hill, made our way through to his yard which adjoined our property. There were sand burrs, five, that I had to remove from my socks. There were always sand burrs and I hated their teeth, hated their bite.
Troy and I went inside his house, said hello to his ma and pulled out his box of cars. We played with his matchbox set. He owned plastic track...something that I didn't. We built ramps to see how many books our racers could jump. Troy's older brother Derek came into the room and began teasing us. He had it in his mind that we were boyfriend and girlfriend, where as Troy and I were little kid friends. Derek was the perfect reason to run back to my house, so we did.
When we climbed down the small hill and into my backyard once again, broken glass was everywhere. Spider web patterns shimmered through the windshields, side view mirrors, side windows and the rear window of Dex's junk cars. There wasn't a piece of glass spared from whatever force imposed destruction. Four cars, classic cars that my brother Dex collected with the intention of restoring one beauty to perfection.
I stood there, mouth agape and in shock. There was a fragrance lining the air...malice, fear and axle grease.
Troy and I sprinted in the direction of my house. We lived on an acre of property and the junk cars were at the far back. Our little feet couldn't move fast enough.
"Mom! Mom!" I screamed with panic. She entered the kitchen and pulled me into an embrace knowing right off that I was upset.
"Mom, Dex's cars...something bad has happened!"
"I know. I called the police and they're on the way," Mom reassured.
I began to cry.
"We saw everything," Troy boasted.
I peered at him with shock.
"You did?" Mom asked.
"Yeah," Troy proclaimed with a hint of self importance in his tone.
"You'll need to speak with the sheriff when he arrives. I saw the kids but only as they were fleeing. I didn't see them do any of it, but most anyone can draw the lines between the guns they were carrying and the broken glass. I recognized them from a block over. I think they're last name is Grayson. Man, will Dex be upset!"
I didn't say much. I was shaken. How could anyone do such a thing? This was our yard, private property...there was no safe, not in the city, not in the county, no safe anywhere in 1971.
___________
"Troy, I really don't remember seeing those boys before. Are you sure? I mean, I remember playing at your house...but by the time we arrived to my back yard...."
"Shssssh," Troy whispered. "Just let me handle this. You never remember things the way they really happened."
Troy stepped forward, pointed his fingers at the boys and spun a fantastic tale. The sheriff kept writing in his little black book and I couldn't stop wringing my fingers. The shooters exchanged glances of disbelief. They all turned in unison glaring at Troy. It was then I knew my friend had sealed his fate, it was then I knew he had poked the biggest bee hive ever.
__________
The bb-gun gang had to face the consequences by paying for the replacement of each and every morsel of glass that they had taken aim on. There was no doubt their parents imposed a much harsher punishment as well. Whatever that was remains unknown. The other consequence was in the loss of my friendship with Troy. Real or imagined he became the target of the angry delinquents. His family moved soon after, across town to a new school district and to a new life.
I on the other hand, kept to myself and ducked from the bullies whenever I could.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" I heard more often than not. Troy had told me, "you never remember things the way they really happened." ...but I disagree for I was the one who really did.
I peered from my best friend Troy, to the county sheriff who was looking me square in the eye.
"Yeah...sure," I mumbled. Did it really happen that way? I had no recollection of such a thing but still, maybe I forgot, maybe I was somewhere else in my thoughts. I probably wasn't seeing it the way that he was...so, okay, what Troy said, sure. I nodded in agreement.
"We have a squad at their house and we'll bring them around to make sure we nabbed the right kids." The sheriff clicked his pen and jotted something down on an official looking note pad. He closed it with a sweep through the air. In a simple movement, the notebook slid into his holster next to a very large gun.
"Troy," I whispered, "I don't remember any of that."
"Just let me do the talking...just let me speak for the both of us. You don't remember...that's okay, because I do."
I don't remember? What did I know? We were in the house eating lunch. My mom forced me to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She asked Troy about how his mom was faring after her surgery. My mother forced me to eat because I didn't wish to take a moment away from playing. I never did. Lunch was presented as "eat or else" with a side of apple wedges. Troy ate a sandwich as well, followed by three small glasses of ice cold milk. I loved milk too, in fact, it was my drink of choice.
We ran through the backyard to the hill, made our way through to his yard which adjoined our property. There were sand burrs, five, that I had to remove from my socks. There were always sand burrs and I hated their teeth, hated their bite.
Troy and I went inside his house, said hello to his ma and pulled out his box of cars. We played with his matchbox set. He owned plastic track...something that I didn't. We built ramps to see how many books our racers could jump. Troy's older brother Derek came into the room and began teasing us. He had it in his mind that we were boyfriend and girlfriend, where as Troy and I were little kid friends. Derek was the perfect reason to run back to my house, so we did.
When we climbed down the small hill and into my backyard once again, broken glass was everywhere. Spider web patterns shimmered through the windshields, side view mirrors, side windows and the rear window of Dex's junk cars. There wasn't a piece of glass spared from whatever force imposed destruction. Four cars, classic cars that my brother Dex collected with the intention of restoring one beauty to perfection.
I stood there, mouth agape and in shock. There was a fragrance lining the air...malice, fear and axle grease.
Troy and I sprinted in the direction of my house. We lived on an acre of property and the junk cars were at the far back. Our little feet couldn't move fast enough.
"Mom! Mom!" I screamed with panic. She entered the kitchen and pulled me into an embrace knowing right off that I was upset.
"Mom, Dex's cars...something bad has happened!"
"I know. I called the police and they're on the way," Mom reassured.
I began to cry.
"We saw everything," Troy boasted.
I peered at him with shock.
"You did?" Mom asked.
"Yeah," Troy proclaimed with a hint of self importance in his tone.
"You'll need to speak with the sheriff when he arrives. I saw the kids but only as they were fleeing. I didn't see them do any of it, but most anyone can draw the lines between the guns they were carrying and the broken glass. I recognized them from a block over. I think they're last name is Grayson. Man, will Dex be upset!"
I didn't say much. I was shaken. How could anyone do such a thing? This was our yard, private property...there was no safe, not in the city, not in the county, no safe anywhere in 1971.
___________
"Troy, I really don't remember seeing those boys before. Are you sure? I mean, I remember playing at your house...but by the time we arrived to my back yard...."
"Shssssh," Troy whispered. "Just let me handle this. You never remember things the way they really happened."
Troy stepped forward, pointed his fingers at the boys and spun a fantastic tale. The sheriff kept writing in his little black book and I couldn't stop wringing my fingers. The shooters exchanged glances of disbelief. They all turned in unison glaring at Troy. It was then I knew my friend had sealed his fate, it was then I knew he had poked the biggest bee hive ever.
__________
The bb-gun gang had to face the consequences by paying for the replacement of each and every morsel of glass that they had taken aim on. There was no doubt their parents imposed a much harsher punishment as well. Whatever that was remains unknown. The other consequence was in the loss of my friendship with Troy. Real or imagined he became the target of the angry delinquents. His family moved soon after, across town to a new school district and to a new life.
I on the other hand, kept to myself and ducked from the bullies whenever I could.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" I heard more often than not. Troy had told me, "you never remember things the way they really happened." ...but I disagree for I was the one who really did.
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