here’s a little story i wrote in november:

boys 1 through 7

the pavement was cold under his feet. soaked with his tears or rain. at this point he wasn’t sure which. his shoes, having been tied together and tossed onto the closest telephone wire, were now soaking too. it didn’t matter though. they were out of reach. a slight over bite is no reason to pick on someone. the de-shoeing had begun without warning, but the pattern was the same.

“hey clarence.” there was no need to make up something stupid. that was his name. “your mom forgot to pack your lower lip today.” these kids weren’t geniuses.

he looked over his shoulder and noticed carl and his small gang of 5th graders close at hand. slowly he picked up the pace. he figured if he did it slow enough the mob wouldn’t notice his cowardice.

“clare-ants. where’re you running to?” not slow enough.

he stopped and faced the music. coming from these guys the music was always cheap but carefully planned out.

as insults were pilled on insults. clarence was getting anxious to find out what his punishment for being alive was. everyday, it seemed, the same routine. he would head for home as fast as he could right when the bell rang. the boys would be right behind. knowing his path was only one way. on days when one or two of the normal ruffians weren’t there he had wondered where they were. a sisters dance recital. shopping with mom. or maybe the dentist. who was some hugely nasty man with all sorts of out of date tools to use on the pretty teeth of boy #7 or maybe #3.

today it was his old shoes he had bought with his mom the other day at value village for $1.99. pumas. at least they aren’t hitting me any more. not after the talk they got from the principle.

so he walked in the rain. enjoying as much he could of it. thinking how to get them back. next time buy velcro he thought.

adam.

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