The following July, I visited someone at the General Hospital. I can’t for the life of me remember who, but I do remember what I was wearing. I’d made myself a funky blue mini skirt and matching vest; paired with a white poet shirt with full lace cuffs and oh some bitchin platform heels, I thought I was so hot, so hip, so whatever we think we are when we’re teenagers. I couldn’t tame my hair, no way no how, so I just let go natural and wild. I was going up Second St. from Marlborough to Pitt Street, walking all the way home, which I often did in the summer. Maybe stop and get a chocolate milkshake at the Dairy Queen on the way. I was feeling mighty fine.
That ended about half way up Second St. when I heard the unmistakable rev of a car engine. Not just any car but the car belonging to a bunch of local thugs who were Hell’s Angels knock offs in our town. It was a ‘69 convertible of some sort and the only car that made that particular sound. Some said it was stolen, others said they’d rebuilt it with drug money. Either way, it was bad news. I started walking closer to the inside edge of the sidewalk, trying to keep in the shadows. But they saw me and from somewhere behind me, I heard “hey Baby wanna go for a ride…” I couldn’t resist and turned to see Jackie Cole jumping over the side and landing on the sidewalk with his clompy boots. There was Beeno Curry and two others dirty stinkies I didn’t know. Jackie was related to the crazy Cole sisters I’d gone to school with and Beeno was ugly and as bad as they come AND they both lived at the far end of my street.
I started walking faster and so did Jackie, with the rest of the goons driving slowly along. They were the scourge of the police, they’d done time, they were the devil incarnate. I walked a little faster, with Jackie hollering how they would show me a good time, they would ruin me for other men, along with other very dirty things they would like to do to me. I was panic stricken and there was nowhere to go for help, because it was all businesses along this part of the road and they were all closed.
Up ahead, in front of the old Beaver Lumber, I saw two boys standing there, obviously waiting for someone. They were in tennis clothes and had tennis racquets, clean cut and safe looking, the complete opposite of the freakazoids chasing me. I thought if I could just make it to those boys and pretend I was their sister. I reached them all out of breath and begged them to help me…that awful Jackie Cole and his creepy goons were trying to grab me…I was scared to death. I’m sure they got just as scared upon hearing that name but they didn’t hesitate and took my hand. I turned to see Jackie running up to us, followed by ugly Beeno Curry and the car screeching to a halt in front of us. “My father will be here any minute to pick us up, so you better get out of here Jackie Cole!” I yelled at them and the boys repeating the same thing, all of us shaking in our shoes.
Just then Jackie Cole made a fist…that’s when I took off like the wind.
Next -> Chasing Down the Wind
Tags: car engine, convertible, Dairy Queen, General Hospital, tennis