![\"The](\"\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/cruelDeathofJerryGuildersLunch.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
“I was going to die at the impassioned hands of a half-Japanese cowboy on a grade-school sidewalk, and I was going to do it slowly and in immense pain.”<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n We were standing outside the school, waiting for the morning bell to ring, when Sonny pointed and said, \u201cLet\u2019s smash it.\u201d<\/p>\n It was just an ordinary lunch sack: brown paper, wrinkled from reuse, and sitting at a slight angle on the rough sandstone sill of the classroom window.<\/p>\n Some kids carried lunch boxes. Steel rectangles with \u201cThe Lone Ranger\u201d or \u201cUnderdog\u201d stamped on them, or plain, long, plastic lunch pails with space for a Thermos in the lid. All with their peculiar and unmistakable odor of aged banana, peanut butter, potato chips and cookie crumbs.<\/p>\n I\u2019d had a steel \u201cKung Fu\u201d lunch box in first grade, purchased on sale at Ferguson Hardware\u2019s going-out-of-business sale for half price, but it hadn\u2019t lasted long. This grasshopper had karate\u2019d it to bent uselessness before the year was even half over and though the short, plastic Thermos that came with it survived to serve for many years, my mother took one disgusted look at my battered lunch box, another at me, and vowed never again. From then on I was a sack-luncher and a bag re-user.<\/p>\n Some kids threw out their bags after only one use, content with the knowledge that, tomorrow morning, there would be another, crisp brown sack with a sandwich, apple, and three cookies waiting on the kitchen counter and no questions asked, but lots of kids were instructed to reuse their bags. I\u2019m sure some did so for simple conservative reasons but, for most, it was because they were poor.<\/p>\n There were a lot of poor kids in our school. We were eight miles west of a small, northwestern Colorado town, and a small but still decent sized percentage of the kids considered themselves cowboys for the simple reason that they basically were. Maybe they didn\u2019t ride herd, but they did the rest. A rough-and-tumble lot of children with ill-fitting clothes, filthy skin, tangled hair, and calloused hands. Some were abused, some were neglected, some were hungry, some were just raised in an older fashion not yet extinct in the rural Colorado of the 1970s.<\/p>\n I looked at the sack on the sill. The idea of taking it down and stomping on it sounded fun but … that was someone\u2019s lunch. I thought about it, and my mind went back to a day in the first grade when my own lunch, in my as-of-yet-un-karate\u2019d \u201cKung Fu\u201d lunch box, had been taken and dipped in a soiled toilet by some foul joker, an older kid named Prichard Philo. Even though I knew it was mere chance that my lunch box had been chosen for such an ignoble baptism, I\u2019d felt humiliated, violated. Sonny was always getting into trouble for something: stealing, cursing, punching, talking, running, throwing, spitting. Brown skinned not from race but rather a combination of overexposure to sun and under-exposure to soap, he carried with him the slight scent of human urine and had been allowed to chew tobacco during break in kindergarten because he had a note from his parents. My close circle of friends included Sonny not by choice but rather by default and tenacity. Sonny was one of those people you wish you\u2019d never met because once he took a cotton to you, you couldn\u2019t shake him unless you moved to a different school, beat him up, or died.<\/p>\n Sonny grabbed the sack off the window sill and threw it on the sidewalk between us. The pale light of autumn\u2019s morning sun shone down upon it, lying there on its side, helpless. At some point, Sonny pulled back, hesitated, then sprinted away. Intent on the bag\u2019s hideous demise, I only saw his feet disappear and, looking up, was treated to the most chilling sight I thought I would ever see: Jerry Guilder staring straight at me from the corner of the building, his face squinched up in disbelieving rage: \u201cMy lunch!\u201d<\/p>\n Jerry Guilder was a big, hulking, half-Japanese cowboy kid. The middle of three brothers, he had managed to get all the worst qualities: dumbest, meanest, ugliest, biggest, rudest, smelliest —he really excelled. His skin was a dirty brown like Sonny\u2019s, his hands broad, thick and hard. He wore a black, cattleman-style felt hat decorated with a flaccid acorn band. The slight upturn of the hat\u2019s soiled brim, shaped by casual tossings, shaded a pair of pronounced Asiatic eyes, a broad nose, and a wide mouth of jutting browned teeth speckled with flecks of Copenhagen. The expanse of his shoulders stretched thin the heavy fibers of his canvas drivers jacket, and the quilted flannel underneath, whose unbuttoned cuffs flapped in tattered frays from the coat\u2019s too-short sleeves. His Wranglers, much of the blue gone brown with grease stains, featured the signature round wear of the chew can in the back left pocket and were held up by a pale leather belt, the last six inches of which tapered to dangled down like some penile delegate from behind the dim silver of a large, oval belt buckle. Finish with square-toe cowboy boots, worn near through and an original color and stitching long since impossible to gauge, and you\u2019ve a picture of what faced me, white with anger. Big for his age anyway, Jerry had been held back twice and was just about as scary as any one kid I had ever met at that point. He scared me not so much because he was big and mean but because he was big and mean and stupid. I could handle big, I could handle mean, but stupid has no limits, knows no reason.<\/p>\n I stared back at Jerry and stepped off the lunch sack, shaking my head. Now I\u2019d not, at that time, seen street violence in reality, but I had seen it on TV shows like \u201cHawaii Five-O,\u201d \u201cIronsides,\u201d and \u201cEmergency!\u201d and I knew that if someone approaches you in anger with a chain, they intend to hit you with it. Shows and even movies in those days left much to the imagination so, in my mind\u2019s eye, I saw great hunks of wet flesh flying from my arms and head and torso as Jerry chain-whipped me without mercy until I collapsed, bloody, a flayed heap at his feet looking not at all unlike his now-mashed lunch.<\/p>\n I was going to die at the impassioned hands of a half-Japanese cowboy on a grade-school sidewalk, and I was going to do it slowly and in immense pain.<\/p>\n This realization traveled to the core of my brain in half the time it took me to blink and, before I knew it, my amygdalae took over and 150 million years of combined evolutionary instruction told me what to do: I flipped out.<\/p>\n Screaming, \u201cHe\u2019s gonna kill me! He\u2019s gonna kill me!\u201d at the top of my shrieking, little-boy voice, I ran right past my would-be assailant and barreled through a line of upperclassmen shuffling single-file into Mrs. Dingle\u2019s classroom.<\/p>\n Mrs Dingle, an elderly woman in a floral blouse, grey skirt, and 1960s-style horn-rimmed glasses, took in my frightened freak-out with disbelieving eyes. I was still teary but my eyes were already clearing as I exited her classroom and made my way toward the third-grade rooms. Now was not the time for tears. Now was the time to be on the lookout for Jerry and his cronies.<\/p>\n The general hustle and bustle of the halls, with children hanging up their coats, stowing their lunches, running to the bathroom for a last-minute tinkle, and otherwise jerking around covered me, and I made it to my class unseen, unscathed. Stowing my own items, I noticed Sonny looking at me with a smirk. I sat through the next couple of hours unable to concentrate on instruction or even the typical japes of my friends. Jerry Guilder had been ready to beat me with a chain, and I had barely escaped with my life. My safety was short-lived, however. First recess was coming up and, without a doubt, at that time he would surely finish the job\u2014but this time with a cheering audience and willing accomplices. I almost threw up at the thought. I kept my eye on the inexorable sweep of the clock\u2019s hands as I formulated my escape.<\/p>\n When the recess bell finally rang, I approached my teacher, Ms. Ackerman. Dr. Simpkins was a thin, calm, balding man with soft, well-washed hands. He wore white button-up shirts with dark ties and a pen and a pair of sunglasses in the pocket. I\u2019m not sure why, maybe it was the slight southern lilt to his pronouncements, but he reminded me of a preacher. He would stop you in the hall out of the blue to ask you how things were going, and he always had a youth-empowerment aphorism ready. I know he meant well and many of the kids, most of them younger girls, worshipped the ground he walked on, but for me there was something so forced about his personality\u2014so scrubbed, polished, and practiced\u2014that a conversation with him always felt about as personal and relevant as the words in a fortune cookie. I didn\u2019t dislike him, but had no faith in his ability to understand or handle the situation without making things worse<\/p>\n I walked into the office and showed the secretary Ms. Ackerman\u2019s pass. \u201c… but I\u2019m not in trouble,\u201d I added. Dr. Simpkins sat behind the desk, perusing some papers. He smiled as I came in and put the papers aside. Great.<\/p>\n First I had stomped all over the guy\u2019s lunch, and now I was interrupting his recess with a visit to the principal\u2019s office to be accused of threatening me with a chain. Oh, yeah. He was going to forgive me, alright. I was dead as dead could get.<\/p>\n It took a few minutes for the teacher on recess duty to track down Jerry and send him in. He slouched into the office, hat in hand, only pausing for a microsecond to acknowledge my quivering presence with a piercing look that said, \u201cYou\u2019re dead.\u201d I spent the rest of the day and much of the next waiting for Jerry to materialize at recess, in the hall, at lunch, on the bus, somewhere, anywhere, to beat the crap out of me. But it didn\u2019t happen. I didn\u2019t know if it was because I made sure to always surround myself with friends, or if Jerry was afraid to get in trouble now that the principal knew, or if Jerry had forgiven me, or what, but as the weeks passed, I quit worrying about it. I never forgot that he owed me, however, and always made sure to give him a wide berth. If I found myself in the same room as him, I would excuse myself, or if that was impossible, I\u2019d make myself as small and as quiet as possible. His face became imprinted on my brain in the same way the buzz of a rattlesnake\u2019s tail was; danger!<\/p>\n Two years later, I was messing around in the river bottom with my friends Garrett and Levi when I was finally forced to face Jerry. Despite my fears, I decided to hang tough. I had no other option, to be honest. I was half naked, my shoes were filled with sand that was chafing my feet raw, my friends weren\u2019t about to run off, and I couldn\u2019t do so and retain face with them. Garrett and Levi continued to splash and holler while I awaited my fate by the side of the swimming hole, grim as a condemned prisoner.<\/p>\n Jerry and Prichard crunched their way to us through the matted grass and brambles of the riverbank trail and gave a hailing shout. Garret and Levi hailed back and came out of the water to meet them. I stood by, silent and still. Prichard pulled out a can of Copenhagen, pinched a wad to place in his lip and, after a priming spit, struck up a conversation with Levi about fishing. “I was going to die at the impassioned hands of a half-Japanese cowboy on a grade-school sidewalk, and I was going to do it slowly and in immense pain.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,107],"tags":[579,604,605,606,607,608],"class_list":["post-3349","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-autobiography","category-best","tag-1970s","tag-elementary-school","tag-grade-school","tag-kung-fu","tag-lunchbox","tag-rural-colorado"],"yoast_head":"\n
\n\u201cNo,\u201d I told Sonny. \u201cI don\u2019t want to get in trouble.\u201d
\n\u201cAw, c\u2019mon.\u201d
\n\u201cNaw.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLet\u2019s stomp it!\u201d Sonny said.
\n\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cI don\u2019t want to.\u201d
\nOther kids were milling around us, a few watching, most of them oblivious. People like Sonny and me; we didn\u2019t attract crowds of peers.
\n\u201cIt\u2019s been sitting there for three days, man.\u201d Sonny said. \u201cNo one\u2019s gonna miss it. It\u2019s rotten.\u201d
\n\u201cReally?\u201d
\nIf true, this changed everything.
\n\u201cReally,\u201d Sonny said and, seeing he\u2019d found the key, stomped his foot down square on the bag, producing a delightful-sounding crunch.
\nSonny lifted his foot and waited for me to take my turn. He didn\u2019t have to wait long. I saw the straining bulge of the sack\u2019s bottom and planted one of my blue Keds right smack on top of it. The contents squooshed like toothpaste back up into the neck of the sack, a very satisfying and soft feeling that sent tendrils of destructive pleasure up my leg to the seat of my male brain. Sonny\u2019s foot came down again next to mine. Soon we were dancing on the lunch sack, really mashing its contents into goddamn nothing; a mindless, primitive explosion of joyful, pointless destruction.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019m s\u2026 \u201c
\n\u201cMy lunch!\u201d Jerry took a step forward, his eyes on the tattered remains of the sack. It was torn in places, ruptured and oozing. Half a banana poked out the opening, semi-crushed and looking as if it had died attempting to crawl away from the violence.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Jerry,\u201d I finally managed to squeak out.
\nThe bell rang and everyone ran to line up outside their respective classroom door – everyone but Jerry and me.
\nJerry\u2019s eyes, narrow with real and justifiable anger, raised and sought my own. I should have run then, but shame and guilt nailed me in place. He had me dead to rights and we both knew it.
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t think \u2026 but Sonny said \u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYou son of a bitch,\u201d Jerry growled walking toward me, one hand drawing a long, steel chain out of his coat pocket.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCalm down, young man! Calm down! Who\u2019s going to kill you?\u201d She took me by the shoulders and shook me a little.
\n\u201cJ-Jerry Guilder!\u201d
\n\u201cJerry Guilder is going to kill you?\u201d Her voice was kind but full of questioning disbelief. She looked back over my head where children, watching the scene with curiosity, continued to file in. \u201cWhy, I don\u2019t even see Jerry. Why would he kill you?\u201d
\nShe had to ask that.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, but he had a chain and \u2026\u201d I sniveled through mucus and tears.
\n\u201cWell, it\u2019s all over now, so get going to your classroom before you\u2019re late,\u201d she swatted me toward the front of her classroom..<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou said that lunch had been there for days!\u201d I accused., \u201cBut it was Jerry Guilder\u2019s lunch, and now he\u2019s gonna kill me!\u201d
\nSonny just laughed at me: \u201cYou\u2019re a stupid pussy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMs. Ackerman? Can I stay in from recess today?\u201d
\n\u201cWhy is that, Corey? Aren\u2019t you feeling well? You have been quieter today.\u201d She peered at me through the bulbous twin panes of her enormous bifocals.
\n\u201cUh, I\u2019d just rather not have to go out.\u201d
\n\u201cHm. No, you need the air and the exercise. It\u2019s a beautiful day! Go outside.\u201d She stopped looking at me, picked up a novel from her desk and took a noisome bite from an apple.
\n\u201cPlease, no. I can\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d she asked, not looking up.
\nI didn\u2019t want to say anything, didn\u2019t want to get in deeper. I already knew that no one was going to take this seriously except me and Jerry. Involving \u201cthe authorities\u201d was likely to only make my death worse. I wanted a way out, not a deeper way in, but I couldn\u2019t go out to first recess and expect to live.
\n\u201cI \u2026 I\u2019m afraid.\u201d
\nMs. Ackerman groaned in annoyance at my evasiveness. \u201cWhat are you afraid of?\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t want to but Ms. Ackerman had left me no other choice. I looked at my shoes.
\n\u201cJerry Guilder threatened to beat me with a chain and he\u2019ll get me if I go to recess.\u201d
\nMs. Ackerman looked up from her novel, mid chew.
\n\u201cJerry Guilder what?\u201d
\nI repeated myself, this time with more confidence.
\nMs. Ackerman put down her book and wrote out a hall pass.
\n\u201cYou need to tell Dr. Simpkins. Off you go to the principal\u2019s office. I swear you kids are out of control.\u201d She tore the pass off the pass and handed it to me.
\nI gulped. Not exactly the stay of execution I had hoped for but conceded to myself that being sent to squishy-old Dr. Simpkins was far preferable to facing certain death on the playground.<\/p>\n
\nThe secretary gave me a pursed-lipped eye-roll and after checking that he was free, ushered me into the principal\u2019s office.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWell, hi Corey! How are you? What brings you down for a visit?\u201d It always amazed me that he seemed to have memorized every child\u2019s name; there were hundreds of us. He leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head and made a show of giving me his full attention. Faith or no, I knew that he was the top male authority around here and decided to come clean.
\nWhen I was done talking, Dr. Simpkins looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
\n\u201cWell now, you can hardly blame young Jerry for being mad, can you?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, sir, but I really didn\u2019t know that \u2026 \u201d
\n\u201cExcuses are the nails used to build a house of failure, Corey. A house of failure. You don\u2019t want to live in a house of failure, do you?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, sir.\u201d
\n\u201cSo, yes, mistakes were made, but to err is human, and failure is the opportunity to begin again more intelligently. Let\u2019s call Jerry in, shall we?\u201d
\n\u201cWhat!?\u201d Fear shot through me. \u201cPlease, no.\u201d
\nDr. Simpkins looked at me over his reading glasses. \u201cYou owe Mr. Guilder an apology. I am sure, once he hears how sorry you are, he will be able to forgive and forget.\u201d
\n\u201cBut what about the chain!? He was gonna beat me with it!\u201d
\n\u201cOh, now. I think you\u2019re exaggerating a bit, don\u2019t you\u201d Dr. Simpkins presented me one of his softer smiles and moved his hand toward the phone.
\n\u201cPlease, Dr. Simpkins,\u201d I pleaded. \u201cI\u2019m afraid of Jerry. He\u2019s not gonna forgive me. Can\u2019t I just stay inside for recess this week, until he forgets about the whole thing?\u201d I had to get through to this moron that Jerry Guilder was not some errant kid who would drop the matter upon hearing a heartfelt apology. I\u2019d seen him kick first-graders in the back for fun and once watched him push another boy face first into the steel bars of the rotating merry-go-round, turning his face into a pulpy mass.
\nDr. Simpkins smiled at me like I was a misguided sheep. \u201cI think we should just fix it now, rather than wait, don\u2019t you? You can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps, after all.\u201d
\nDr. Simpkins picked up the receiver and dialed out to the secretary to have Jerry brought in from recess.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cJerry,\u201d Dr. Simpkins began, \u201cCorey here tells me that he has something to say to you.\u201d
\nJerry looked at me.
\nI swallowed.
\n\u201cJerry, I\u2019m sorry I stomped on your lunch. Sonny said it had just been sitting there for a couple of days, so we didn\u2019t think it would matter. It was a dumb idea, and I\u2019m really, really sorry.\u201d
\nJerry blinked a couple of times then looked at Dr. Simpkins. \u201cI don\u2019 have any lunch today, now. What am I s\u2019pose t\u2019eat?\u201d
\n\u201cOh, now. Not to worry,\u201d Dr. Simpkins smiled. \u201cToday, lunch is on us. I\u2019ll call down to the cafeteria. You just go through the line today and get a nice hot lunch. How\u2019s that?\u201d
\n\u201cThank you, Dr. Simpkins,\u201d Jerry grunted.
\n\u201cNow, how about our friend Mr. Edwards over here? Do you have anything to say to him?\u201d
\nJerry looked at Dr. Simpkins, confused, his hat-shaped hair sticking out over his eyes and ears like a spiky black corona. \u201cLike what?\u201d
\n\u201cWell, he went out on a limb, there, don\u2019t you think? He offered you a chance to forgive him. That doesn\u2019t happen every day.\u201d
\nJerry stared at Dr. Simpkins a little longer, rotating his hat by the brim with both hands between his knees, then turned his head to me and considered me a moment.
\n\u201cFergive ye,\u201d he murmured through slack lips, the flintiness of his gaze upon me never warming. My heart sank into my stomach and set off a chemical reaction.
\nJerry made to stand up.
\n\u201cWell now, whoa there, Mr. Guilder, whoa there.\u201d Dr. Simpkins motioned with his hand for Jerry to remain seated. \u201cWe\u2019re not quite done here.\u201d
\nJerry sat back down, blinking.
\n\u201cCorey here tells me he\u2019s afraid you might want to beat him up, is that true?\u201d
\nJerry swung his head to look at me, his eyes filled with cold anger, then he turned back to Dr. Simpkins and opened his eyes up as wide as they would go; \u201cGolly, no sir!\u201d
\n\u201cHe tells me you might have threatened him with a chain?\u201d Dr. Simpkins put the question as if he couldn\u2019t believe Jerry would do such a thing, he was such a good boy.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cWith a chain. Do you have a chain on you, Jerry?\u201d
\n\u201cWhy, shore I do,\u201d said Jerry, reaching into his coat pocket and bringing out the chain, \u201cit\u2019s just a old dog chain, though. Fer walkin\u2019 m\u2019dog.\u201d
\n\u201dOh, I see. A dog chain,\u201d Dr. Simpkins replied, turning to me, a gentle smile on his face as if to say, \u201dSee? That explains it!\u201c
\n\u201cI wooden hit nobody with it,\u201d Jerry supplied, snaking his neck to emphasize his sincerity.
\nDr. Simpkins brought his eyebrows and voice down in mock seriousness. \u201cWell, of course not.\u201d He smiled.
\nJerry slipped the chain back into his pocket, and Dr. Simpkins pushed his glasses up onto his forehead. \u201cThere, see? That wasn\u2019t so hard, now was it boys? And doesn\u2019t it feel good to be friends again?\u201d
\n\u201cYes sir, it does,\u201d Jerry said, looking directly at me with a big, malicious grin on his face that Dr. Simpkins couldn\u2019t seem to read.
\n\u201cWell, then, why don\u2019t we stand up and shake hands?\u201d
\nDr. Simpkins gestured for us to rise and approach each other. We did so, Jerry with his ever-growing evil smile. I stuck out my hand and watched Jerry\u2019s engulf it. We shook. I expected him to squeeze my hand like a vice but instead he barely used enough pressure to retain the grasp. His hand was dry and rough. The whole thing was creepy.
\n\u201cAlright then, boys, run along!\u201d Dr. Simpkins ushered us out of his office. I didn\u2019t want to go, so I hung back, but the principal urged me along with the flat of a hand between my shoulders. I knew the minute we were out of his sight I was dead meat, but then the bell rang to signal the end of recess and the halls exploded with children and teachers heading back to their classrooms. My death was postponed at least until lunch time.
\nOver the rising noise, Jerry turned and pointed a finger in my face. \u201cI\u2019ll getcha. Don\u2019 you fergit it. I\u2019ll getcha.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nThe three of us had been tubing the river and were now splashing around a swimming hole in our cutoffs when Levi, atop the remnants of the old, concrete abutment above the swimming hole, hollered down that he had just seen Prichard Philo and Jerry Guilder coming towards us along the bank. The cold finger of fear once again ran its nails down the chalkboard of my soul. I was with two friends, but we were far away from any houses or adults.
\n\u201cWhat are they doing here?\u201d I asked, shivering in the sunlight.
\n\u201cI dunno,\u201d Levi shrugged. \u201cLooks like they\u2019re hunting. Jerry has his rifle.\u201d
\nI almost threw up. I could feel the blood drain from my head and limbs. There was no god.
\n\u201cI have to hide,\u201d I said.
\nGarrett and Levi looked at me in surprise.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cJerry\u2019s gonna kill me,\u201d I said, then reminded them of the lunch-sack incident from two years before.
\nThey were skeptical.
\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t worry about it,\u201d Levi said. \u201cThey\u2019re good guys.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, Levi. I\u2019m serious. Jerry hates me. He promised to get me.\u201d
\nGarrett shook his head. \u201cIf they try to start anything, we\u2019ll tell them to stop.\u201d
\nI appreciated the support but was not reassured. Levi was about as big around as a twig and cried if you punched him hard enough\u2014and that wasn\u2019t very hard. Garrett was tough as nails when it came to pain but was a bit of a pushover. If anything happened, he\u2019d go and get help and, I\u2019m sure, help to fish what was left of my body out of the branches of the cottonwoods when they got back.<\/p>\n
\nI scanned Jerry with my eyes, Prichard too, but neither seemed to take any special notice of me. Just another kid in the river, I guess.
\nPrichard began prying at Levi for fishing secrets —the bait he used, the best holes to fish— but Levi wasn\u2019t budging. It took me a few seconds to realize that the conversation was friendly. Not that it had been hard to tell, just that I was surprised. It flew in the face of all that I\u2019d come to believe about the two older boys but there was Prichard, wheedling, not bullying, Levi for his fishing knowledge of the local streams. He actually looked up to Levi! A skinny, little underclassman! Right behind him was Jerry, leaning on a .22 rifle with amusement on his face at Prichard\u2019s attempts and Levi\u2019s artful evasiveness.
\nIt was clear to me that, while they ran in different circles at school, these were all kids of the same neighborhood, comfortable with each other on a level I had never suspected. My view of both Prichard and Jerry deflated some, taking them down from mythic beasts of horror to merely regular folk. Jerry even seemed like a bit of a goofball, truth be told. He made jokes at Prichard\u2019s expense, offered his own advice to Levi on how to tan a squirrel hide, and even chuckled a few times in my direction as if to draw me in. After a while I relaxed and, though still at the side of the conversation, joined in here and there when I could fit a joke in.
\nAt one point Jerry offered me a chaw. I thanked him, took a healthy wad from the pouch of Redman he held out, cheeked it, then worked up enough gumption to remind him of the whole lunch sack story. I told him how scared of him I had been, and for how long. I knew I was taking a risk bringing it up but, as I related the details of my dread, he laughed open mouthed until his eyes were wet.
\n\u201cThat Sonny\u2019s an asshole,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"