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A Little Piece of Childhood

Bill Tope

    It was my first day of first grade and I was walking home after school, loaded down with all my new books and things. I had only a two block trek to get home but I was making my way by myself. Contrast that with kintergarden, which was in a school beyond the highway and necessitated an escort to get safely across. Besides, at a full year oldler, I was a big boy now. In late summer, the leaves hadn’t yet changed and were green and waxy and filled all the trees. Rays of golden sunshine peeped shyly through the branches and forced me to squint my eyes.
    My jacket didn’t fit well; I had outgrown it over the summer and the sleeves were short and I couldn’t zip it up properly. Which was unfortunate, since it was an uncharacteristically cool September. So I was ambling along, balancing books and my Jetsons’ lunch box and trying to keep the chill off my chest, when I heard someone beckon me.
    “Hey, Kid,” said an older man—I estimated him to be in his late teens to early twenties—sitting in the passenger seat of a long, sleek, blue muscle car. I subsequetly identified the vehicle as the new Pontiac GTO. I had taken one step into the crosswalk at the intersection; I halted and looked over at him. I couldn’t see the driver, he was hidden behind the passenger. “C’mon, Kid, get in,” he indicated the rear seat of the car with a sweep of his hand. “We got toys in the back seat,” he said enticingly.
    Toys! Now, that was something that I could understand. I leaned to get a look into the back, but couldn’t see anything. No room there for a new red wagon, which I desperately yearned for. But maybe...
    “C’mon, Little Man, said the passenger, a little more abruptly this time. I was about fifteen feet from the car and could clearly make him out. He was big, had messy dark hair and large, ugly white teeth. “You gonna get in, or what?” he asked. Suddenly his door opened. I took a precautionary step back, onto the curb. Before I had started walking to and from school, my Mom had instilled in me not to trust anyone offering me a ride when I was out and about, unless my parents knew them. I hadn’t fully understood her warnings, but I was beginning to sense the wisdom of her advice now.
    “C’mere, I’ve got something for you, Little Boy.” And with that he opened the door fully, stuck his hand in his crotch and exposed himself. My eyes popped open wide and in a heartbeat I was sprinting back towards the elementary school and safety. My arms were driving like pistons and my feet were just a blur. I divested myself of books, pencils, lunch box, everything at a dead run.
    At one point I looked back, only to discover that the sleek blue car had vanished in a haze of exhaust fumes and dust. I stayed at the school, looking out the door, for about ten minutes, then finally dared to venture home. I never saw the GTO or the men inside it again. I recalled and appreciated my Mom’s sage—perhaps lifesaving—advice. You were in peril, even if you’re just a little kid. There really are perverts amongst us, out there, looking for you, when you least expect it. And it was with that realization that another little piece of my childhood had died.

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