Oh Jack!
It was around the summer of 1971, before my ninth
birthday. My older brother, Don was feeling
his oats as a young ten year old boy would. Many things he did, since I was many
times his partner in … well only certain crimes. We didn’t tell not only NOT
Mom. We didn’t tell NOBODY, what we were
up to.
That summer I pestered him about he and his buddies new club house. He banned me from knowing where it was and from seeing it. I was pissed. We climbed trees together, throwing rocks at each other (never got hurt, so Mom didn’t know.), but we made sure we didn’t argue in front of Mom. Mom liked peace and quiet. She more or less demanded it. So, we took it outside, sun, rain, snow, and if Mom let us, even in ice storms. We had a rule though. “Don’t leave any marks Mom can see… Even if we took damage.” It was an unspoken code. No matter how badly we retaliated against each other, Mom never knew.
So, this particular summer, Don was being a bit of a turkey. I nagged him about the tree house he and a few of his buddies said it was the ‘coolest ever’. Finally, one day my brother made me a deal and of course a promise, “Never tell Mom that you had to beat up Jack, the town bully to see the tree house.” I went through the swearing in ritual. The crossing of the heart and “…hope to die.” Never Tell Mom Ritual. So, Don set up the day. It was on a sunny late July afternoon on the southwest side of B.F. Gibbs school, by the big tree where we would do ramp jumping (another thing we hid from Mom).
The day came, it was about three or so in the afternoon, nearly not a cloud in the sky. I showed up. Then Don showed up. Then a few minutes later Jack, the town bully showed up. Jack was about six months older than Don. Yet Jack was in the grade behind him. Most kids were afraid of Jack. I have no clue what kind of deal my brother, Don who was way smaller than Jack cooked up with him. Jack evidently temporarily had become my brother’s hitman. Well, actually only for the house painting job on me. If you know what I mean.
So, here we were the three of us. Jack inquired of my brother, “Her?” With his red hair and freckles took a look-see over to Don. Don replied, “Yeah. That’s her. Go ahead.” Basically, he was to land a solid punch on me. The bet was if I didn’t fight and win. Well then, I couldn’t see the guys tree house. Cause that meant I was a REAL GIRL. And they wanted none of that near their tree house.
So, Jack looked at me and said, “You
throw the first punch.”
I replied, “My Daddy said, I can’t
start a fight. ‘Cause its not right.”
Jack responded, “I don’t know.” He shook his head in shame for having
to
punch a girl, let alone one younger and much smaller than he.
I look at my brother and chirped, “Right?”
My brother agreed with me, with
a nod. I continued, “Jack, you gotta' throw the
first punch. ‘Cause my
Daddy will get mad at me if I do.”
Jack shrugged, “Okay.”
Jack threw a punch. I ducked. I popped up and threw a kick with my Thom McCann High Top Work boots on. You know the ones with the tough edge surrounding the work shoes? Well, that landed. As well, it landed straight on Jack’s left lower patellar tendon, or there abouts. Jack fell to the ground in agony,as he held his left knee. Blood was pouring from his knee area. Jack in agony rolled on the ground holding his left knee.
I looked at
my brother in terror, then at Jack and yelled, “Oh! Jack!!!!!”
My
brother looked at me with terror in his eyes, like we just killed
someone. He
yelled, “RUUUUUUN!!!!!! RUUUUUUUN!!!” Apparently, we
both thought Jack was
bleeding to death.
Well no one died. But Jack stayed away from me and I don’t remember him picking on anyone we knew, after that. Wait. It got better.
Well no one died. But Jack stayed away from me and I don’t remember him picking on anyone we knew, after that. Wait. It got better.
Within in the next week, my brother reneged on the promise. We had HUGE thunderstorm one day that week. The following day our home phone rang, Mom picked up. We were in the kitchen. Mom’s expression, eye brows raised, eyes got real big, “Oh Dear. Oh, Thank God.” She Thanked the other mother on the end of the phone and then said good-bye. I figured, I was doomed. My heart sank. Then we heard aimed at my brother, “Young Man. What you and those boys did was deadly.” Okay this had nothing to do with me.
So, as the story goes my brother and a few of his buddies built the treehouse under a HUGE TREE. It collapsed onto all what they had in there due to the storm. The mothers found out about it. The HUGE tree had already been uprooted and it well could have fallen on top of them even without the storm. In the end no one was hurt. But somebody was in trouble and it wasn’t me.---Jody-Lynn Reicher
Comments
Post a Comment