My lungs were burning, my side ached but I kept running…all the way to Pitt and Second before I realized I’d been running with heels on. Until that moment, I didn’t know I could do that. I’d considered running down the back streets where darkness, shadows and trees could hide me but that made me more afraid. The bright lights of downtown would make me easier to spot but it just made me feel better. I stopped to catch my breath and take my heels off. A car somewhere backfired and that was motivation enough for me to flee again.
I don’t know why but I was too afraid to take the bus. I ran to Fourth St. before the pain in my side forced me to stop. At the Shell station, I saw a guy I knew from school and begged him for a ride home. I guess the way I rambled on, telling the story in one breath and my hair all wild and all, he decided he didn’t want any part of it and sped off. I had to walk until my side stopped hurting and my lungs could function again. I walked right passed the police station…all because I thought of my mother finding out about this. I walked and walked, looking behind me every five minutes and listening for the sound of that car. Fifth Street then Seventh Street…Eight Street…I had to make it to 13th Street.
Just as I passed Eight Street, I heard it. In the distance, the furious roar of that engine. I bolted. The sound got louder. I had to hide. I tore across the street to the Olympia Bowl. In the blackness of the alley way, between the bowling alley and the next building, I crouched down trying to still my heart and not worry about spiders. With my hand over my mouth, I listened as the car made it’s way up Pitt St and stopped right at Ninth St. The engine revved and revved, like it was announcing my impending doom. Oh my God…they saw me? You’re turning into a whack job here…they stopped for the red light. THEM?! They rape and pound people but they stop for red lights?! My legs were cramping and I stood up just as the car leaped to life and came roaring pass me, in my hiding place. I froze. It wasn’t until I found myself gasping for air that realized I’d been holding my breath.
I tore out of there and ran up Pitt. I only saw two goons in that car…Where’s Jackie and Beeno? I seriously thought they were still looking for me until I remembered they lived at the far end of my street, close to Eleventh. I reasoned they were either going home or they knew who I was and they were heading down to my side of the tracks. What am I going to do? When I got to Thirteenth Street, my legs were getting rubbery and my feet hurt. But I’d gotten myself into a frenzy about all this and I was sure they were parked near my house. So I ran through familiar territory, the back way pass my auntie’s house on Newark, to Churchill, through the field behind my house. I didn’t care if there was a boogieman in there with his axe. He was far less scary than Jackie Cole and Beeno Curry. The minute my feet hit the safety of my back yard, I went sprawling across the cool grass and laid there until I stopped shaking.
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Tags: bowling, Churchill, Newark, Olympia Bowl, Shell station