Entry #521195, added on 06-28-08 @ 7:42 pm EDT
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| Part One - Chapter Two: I'll Always Be Your Friend | Entry #521195 |
Chapter Two
October - 1973
Les hurried to make hot cocoa while reading a note from Mom under his breath. He wadded it up and tossed it in the trash.
“Get your shoes on, Lisa. We’ll be late, I don’t have all day to wait on you," he said.
It was just before Halloween; the wind whistled as it struggled through the cracks of the kitchen windows, a warning of the winter months ahead.
“I can’t find my other shoe,” I griped after looking under the living room sofa.
“It’s right here under the kitchen table. Now get it on; we’ve got to go.”
Les walked me to school every morning then went to his class, if he went at all. He was twelve; I was eight.
At the bathroom sink, I wet my hands and rubbed them over my light-brown hair to smooth the cowlick that erupted as I slept. I splashed water over my face and looked in the mirror. After drying my face, I grabbed my coat from a closet and rushed back down to the kitchen.
“Les, can I go play on the playground when we get home today?” I asked.
He handed me a brown paper sack with my lunch inside. He pulled the door behind us and jiggled it to make sure it was locked. “Mom told me you can’t play there unless I’m with you; I can’t baby-sit you all the time. I have things to do too, you know.”
We reached the corner nearest our apartment. Trash had built up in the street and blocked the gutter at the curb where we stood. Purple pieces of glass from broken wine bottles covered part of the sidewalk.
We noticed two homeless men asleep under torn cardboard against one of the city buildings located across the street from the projects. A swirling burst of wind lifted the cardboard until it hovered above one of them. Then it fell back just as suddenly and hit him in the head.
He arose, and groggily yelled in our direction, “Why'd y'all do that?"
Les looked back and said, “Shut-up old man. It was just the wind, go back to sleep.” He took my hand and pulled me with him as we crossed the street.
I tried again, “Les, Mom won’t care. You can see the playground from the back door, and I won’t leave. I’ll just play right where you can look out and see me. Please, Les? Please?”
“Okay, but you better tell Mom I was there with you or you won’t get to play there again. Now leave me alone about it.”
After school the clouds broke up and allowed the sun to peek out. I bolted out the back door within minutes of arriving home.
I saw a girl about my age alone on the playground hidden between the stodgy red brick buildings. I walked up and sat beside her on the merry-go-round. I immediately liked her eyes, a sky blue, like my mom’s. The richness of color offset her unkempt strawberry blonde hair.
We sat for a moment and said nothing. Then she turned to me and said, “I bet I can make you throw up, I’m the best at spinning this thing. My big sister even got sick. I’m the only one that doesn’t.”
I looked at her for a second, then said, “I won’t throw up,” and defiantly crawled to the center.
She smiled, said, “Hang on,” and grabbed the bars. She ran as fast as she could, round-and-round. I leaned back as the world seemed to fly by like the wind. It was great.
“Go faster,” I yelled.
She pushed on the bars and ran hard along side, then jumped on with me. We laughed until it slowed down enough for us to jump off and do it again.
We played until dusk when my sister Kathy yelled for me to come in.
I turned to my new friend and said, “I have to go home now.”
As I was leaving, she asked, “What’s your name?”
I looked back and said, “Lisa. What’s yours?”
She yelled as I ran towards the back stoop of our door, “My name is Benji, I’ll be here tomorrow. Come play with me, okay?”
“Okay!”
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© Copyright 2008 L. A. Powell (UN: lisapowell at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
L. A. Powell has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Content Rating Notice: Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only
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