Just another day...

The house was run down and shabby, its paint peeling and most of the screens torn, but the

backyard was a wonderland! Surrounded on both sides and across the back, by an old rusty, wire
fence. It’s sagging sections had borne the weight of every child in the neighborhood at one
time or another, either in scrambling over it or riding it like a horse. Huge old trees stood along the
perimeter like soldiers, their massive, lush green foliage protecting the yard and it’s occupants
from the hot summer sun. The three of us spent most of our days from sun up, to sun down
entertaining ourselves in that yard. Mom and her tranquilizers stayed in the house pretty much,
only venturing out a couple times a day to make sure no one was dead. 

I was 8 years old that summer, Tony was 6 and Sarah was 4. Tony and Sarah were tiny kids;

both had dark eyes and chestnut brown hair and they were often mistaken for twins. I was the
odd one, blond hair, blue eyes and a head taller than other kids my age. We had been digging
that day, no particular reason, it just seemed like a good day for making holes! Tony and I sat   
next to the swingset, digging with mom’s serving spoons. As usual, Sarah had to have her own
hole, which she was digging with a stick.

The boys next door, Steve and Gary, had been in and out of their house all morning, watching us dig, and after a while, they climbed over the fence and joined us, the youngest one carrying a bottle of Fresca. “What are you doing?” asked Steve. “Just diggin” said Tony, thrusting his spoon into the dirt. “Why?” asked Steve.
“Cause” said Tony. Steve picked up a stick, sat down, and began to dig. Gary sat down next to Sarah and offered her a drink of his soda.

Suddenly, Sarah began to gag. “Yech, she’s puking…” Tony said, twisting his face up in a nasty expression.

I got up and ran over to her. “Sarah, are you okay?” I asked, grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face me.  She was definitely not okay. Looking up at me, she wretched again, spewing vile, green stuff on
the ground between us. Beside her sat the soda that Gary had offered her. I grabbed the tail of my shirt and wiped her mouth, then picked up the bottle. The moment I picked up the soda, Gary slid backwards in the dirt. I sniffed the contents.

“You little creep! You peed in this bottle!” I screamed, flinging it to the ground. Gary was now grinning from ear to ear. “She’s so stupid she drank it!” he roared, throwing back his head in laughter. “She’s not stupid, she’s 4 years old you idiot!”  I screeched. At that point, Steve made a run for the fence, scrambling over it head first.

“Tell her you’re sorry you jerk!” I demanded. “I’m not telling her I’m sorry, I didn’t make her drink it!” he said, still grinning stupidly as he scrambled to his feet and began backing toward the fence. “I said tell her you’re sorry!”  “I won’t and you can’t make me.” He said. In one quick motion, he reached to the ground and picked up a hefty stick, which he now brandished wildly in the air.

“You’re gonna need a bigger stick jackass!” I said, moving towards him. He was almost to the fence by then.

Now or never, I thought.  Breaking into a run, I tackled him around the neck. He fell backward and I landed on top of him. “So, you want to go home huh? Not until you tell her you’re sorry!” I said, slapping him hard across the face.

“I’m not sorry! Get off me!” He yelled squirming like the worm that he was. “Tell her…NOW!” I yelled, my face almost against his. “SORRY” he yelled, starting to sob. I stood up, dragging him with me by the front of his shirt. “Now, get out of our yard creep.” I hissed, as I pushed him toward the fence. He turned and covered the two remaining steps to the fence with one leap, and as he hooked his foot in the wire, I jammed both of my palms against his backside and pushed with all my might. He flew through the air like a rocket, landing in a heap in his own yard.  “Don’t forget your pop!” yelled Tony, hurling the bottle over the fence behind him!

Just then, mom stepped out the back door, recoiling slightly against the muted sunlight like a vampire awakened before nightfall.  Standing on the crumbling cement backporch, rollers in her hair, cigarette hanging out the side of her mouth, she shielded her eyes with one hand, the other planted on her hip.

 “What the hell’s goin on out here…I can’t hardly hear the TV!” she said.

“Nothing mom” I said, as I returned to my digging.

“Steve and Gary just went home.”