HoodRat: 9 yrs old

I sort of pride myself for putting the ‘hood’ in my neighborhood.  I’d hop on my little scooter, purple with white wall rims spinnin, and terrorize my virtually uninhabited chunk of blocks/ play area.  I grew up in a tourist town by the sea and at least half of the homes in my hood where second homes.  Me and my step sister Amber had the run of the place.  Naturally I was one in charge and we filled our days with fort making and other gang like activities.  It is safe to say that I had every Garbage Pail Kid card in duplicate and I knew where to find the beer cans to cash in.  These where the days when your parents didn’t pop for a sitter, they just let the streets do the job.

As our little gang grew in numbers so did the subterfuge.  Weekly we would split into warring factions and fight each other with sticks and rocks, words and indian giving.  The was honor and predictability amongst us thieves until one fateful day.

Amber, who was always my number two, my best pal, my partner in crime, decided to leave my gang to join her new boyfriend Troy Underhill’s rag tag band of misfits.  These kids played dirty.  This stumpy little four eyes comandeered my best pal and I was brokenhearted.   The final straw was the dismantling of my most prized fort, my Sistine chapel, my pride and joy.  Also the place where I stored dirty magazines and stolen Nutter Butters.

My heart broken at Amber’s betrayal and my hackles properly up, I drew first blood.  Literally.  I lured Troy to my new fort with the promise of a truce (and some cookies) and held him at knife point way past dinner time.  He cried, he pleaded, he made promises he could never keep.  I never faltered.  If he had been any kind of man he would have wrestled the butter knife from my hands and headed home for dinner.  But he knew.  The look in my eyes was one that I imagine he has seen many times since.  A girl with a broken heart has nothing to lose.  She will burn you down and herself with you.  She will make a god damn fool of herself and hold a grudge forever.

Whenever I head home I usually see him.  Somewhere lurking, looking gross, and worthless.  I think I broke him.

Never send a boy to fight a women’s war.  You will always lose.

 

 

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