Taking It Back Ch. 01

"Listen Shirley," Noah said, "no, guys, come on."

Shirley prodded the sling in Noah's hand. "You're the best shot in all the school by far, Noah."

"Noah," I cried, "Shirley's wrong."

Noah shook his head. "This isn't right."

"Don't you love me?" Shirley asked.

"Of course."

Shirley flipped her hair. "Oh Mark, you do it already."

Mark pulled back his sling and aimed it at my head.

"No, please," I cried, unabashedly pleading.

"Mark, no!" Noah yelled.

"No!" I yelled.

Noah looked from Mark to Shirley, who stood next to him smiling reassuringly.

"Please!" I yelled.

"Okay, I'll do it Shirley. Move, Mark!" Noah grabbed the sling out of Mark's hands and threw it on the ground. And there he stood, my best friend, the first boy I had loved, the guy who'd protected me for most of my life, aiming his slingshot at a spot just above my head.

"No, Noah, you're gonna kill me, and then you'll be sorry okay!"

"If you love me, you'll do it," Shirley told him.

"No, no, no, Noah," was all I could get out. And then I felt the wind of the pebble as it hit the can before I heard the clang when it shot off my head.

"Good shot, Noah," Shirley said.

I'd closed my eyes at some point, and was afraid to open it. I felt the heat pool in my middle and knew what had happened even before I opened my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I looked into Noah's, who stared at me with a stunned look on his face. I lowered my gaze to stare at my middle. Tears dripped off my face but I could still make out a dark patch staining my pants. I covered myself as best I could with my hands.

Noah kept staring back at me, like he wanted to say something. I dropped my hands and turned around, and walked back down the hill to my house.

As I walked away from that old fence on that late summer afternoon, I knew that my childhood was over, and my life on that farm was over. I never told my parents what had happened. I never told anyone. I just asked my mom if I could change schools. My devastation must've been conveyed to her, as she spoke to my dad in serious tones that evening. Neither of them asked questions, and that fall I was enrolled in the school just on the other side of the town line. Luckily my grades were excellent enough for the school to make allowances for me to make the move. But I worked my butt off to get the best grades I could, and got offered all kinds of scholarships that made it possible for me never to have to return to my old town again, and where I would never run into Noah again. That had suited me fine. I didn't want to hear from him, or see him, or remember him. I wanted more than anything not to remember him, but years later, I still found myself scanning busy sidewalks for a glimpse of him, and wondered who he ended up becoming.

Oprah once said you are the same person as the kid you were in first grade, you just get older. Or something philosophical like that. I hope she's wrong, because I'd like to believe I'm not that gullible kid anymore. And a part of me hopes that Noah wasn't that scared boy acting tough for a contemptible subhuman who was completely undeserving of his acknowledgement on that Friday afternoon. And that he would still protect me.

Looking back, if I could tell my 11-year-old crying self one thing, I'd say, 'Hey kid, you better thicken your skin, and batten the hatches. Things are about to get a lot tougher.'