1
On a humid night in mid-June, Teeny and I, with nothing else to do, took our bikes to the only theater in the Gaslight Addition to see Last House on the Left, a new movie which had gained quite a reputation in school as the most disturbing thing ever; we had to check it out. On the way we saw countless other kids our age out and about; stray fireworks sounded off in the distance in early celebration for the upcoming 4th of July, but our ride was otherwise made in verbal silence until Teeny suddenly spoke up.
"We should've asked them to come along." I of course knew who "they" were.
"Yeah, I guess we should've. Don't know if they would come though. Haven't seen them in a while, actually."
This was true; in fact, I couldn't remember off the top of my head the last time I had seen either one of them, let alone the four of us being together.
As I said earlier, in August of '71 Roberta's older brother Mike was shipped off to Vietnam, annointed by Uncle Sam to massacre villages of civilians in the name of democracy. That's when our tight-knit group really began to change as she withdrew and Chrissy went with her. Since then we were lucky if three of us ended up in the tree house at the same time. But never all four.
It wasn't long before the theater became visible in the distance (Shelby was and is a small town after all), and any continuation of the conversation was cut short. We pulled into a dark alleyway next to the theater to stash our bikes, which provided a nice hiding spot from the bustling activity around us. Satisfied, we turned around to where we entered and started ba-
Teeny made a sudden, short utterance of surprise as I saw her shadow fall into the darkness of the alley ground.
"Goddamnit!"
"You okay?" I asked with a chuckle as I took her hand.
"...Yeah. Just tripped over another bike..." she responded, sounding a little confused.
I could barely make out the silhouette of a bicycle laying on the ground near where we entered. Looking more closely, I noticed another bike laying next to it.
"Very considerate" Teeny piped up at the sight.
We stepped over the haphazardly-placed bike and turned the corner toward the theater. Even amidst the crowd around us I had taken to looking down ahead of my feet as I walked, stepping over cracks and thinking about a short story I had been secretly working on when I heard a familiar - and missed - voice call out my and Teeny's names from up ahead. Looking up and ahead confirmed what I'd assumed as a smile spread across my face. Chrissy was waving at us unnecessarily, with Roberta to her left, both dressed for summer and now in front of us.
"How have you guys been?" Roberta asked the two of us with a warm smile. Her hair was shorter, about shoulder length, but free-flowing rather than in a pony tail as usual.
"Pretty good." Teeny replied. "Just took a fall in that alley back there over some idiot's bike."
"Hey, those are our bikes!" Chrissy answered indignantly. I looked at her in quiet amusement and noticed that she was now slightly taller than Roberta since I'd seen her, and had lost a little weight in that same time.
The three of us broke out in short, inexplicable laughter. Chrissy, though initially looking around confusedly, soon cracked a smile of her own.
"So... where were you two coming from?" I asked once the laughter died down.
"We were trying to get into the Last House on the Left showing, but they wouldn't let us in." Roberta answered. "My brother Dave said it's some real disturbing shit, so it's no wonder, I guess."
"No kidding; we were going to go see it too!" Teeny said. In a brief moment, she and Roberta gave a mischievous, as if they saw their own thoughs on each others' faces. "Maybe if we buy tickets to another movie," Roberta began with a smirk, "we can slip past the usher and get into Last House..."
That sounded like a good plan to me, and with a nod of agreement we started toward the theater. "Hey guys, I don't think so. If they catch us..." Chrissy started to protest, despite trailing behind us.
2
The movie was ninety minutes of uneasy tension, sickening violence and over the top blood and gore that gave me nightmares for days and inspired the first short story I ever got published. It was glorious.
3
Roberta was the first one to spot them. We had come out of the theater side by side and were talking about our favorite parts of the movie when she suddenly shouted "Hey, creep! Whose bike do you think you're riding?"
I looked in the direction she shouted and saw three boys, our age or a little older, riding our bikes except for mine; I guessed it was still in the alley. But Roberta seemed to have gotten their attention. Before we could approach them, however, they had ridden over and were circling us.
"Well what do we have here, guys?" One of them said with a wise-ass grin that lit up his face and tipped him off as the leader of the trio. "Two brunettes, a blondie and a redhead. Ooh, and look at the rack on the blonde, too!"
I took a quick glance at Teeny to see her looking at the ground in front of her, her cheeks about as red as her shirt. "And what do we have? Three faggots that steal from girls?" Roberta shot back, making that annoying grin falter just a little before regaining its composure.
"Now that's no way to speak, especially to a few guys just lifting your bikes before somebody else does. Your mother should teach you to be more grateful or something, Girly..."
I didn't dare look at Roberta's reaction, nor did I need to; she planted her fist into his face almost before we knew what was happening, and by the time we realized, he and Roberta's bike were already on the ground, both ours and the boys' reactions one of shock and disorientation with the escalation of the situation.
Breathing heavily, he propped himself up on his elbows and kicked the bike away from his legs without ending his death stare up at Roberta. One side of his mouth was leaking a small line of blood. The other had raised in a half smirk which further lit up the glaring anger in his eyes. "You're gonna seriously regret that, you little bit-"
"Is there a problem here, everybody?" I shot my head at the source of the husky-voiced shout and saw Officer Nell, a local police patrolman, slowly approaching from across the street us with hands hooked into the sides of his belt.
"No sir... no problem at all," The bully answered in a phonily respectful tone as he stood up and placed his hands in his pockets. The grin had apparently gone in hiding along with his confidence, "just fell off her bike, that's all."
"Her bike?" Officer Nell questioned. Turning his attention to Roberta, he asked "Is there a problem here, Ms. Martin?"
"No sir," she shot a dirty glance at the bully, "no problem at all".
"Right then. Well regardless, I want you boys to go your separate ways. Before a problem does start."
The boys took the order first, stepping off our bikes obediently and forming a line behind their leader, who didn't look back as he walked away without protest.
Officer Nell addressed all of us. "Now you come find me if those boys give any of your trouble, you hear?" We all nodded and agreed that we would do so. "Right then, I'll be on my way. Good night, girls." And with that he turned back the way he came.
4
It was twenty minutes later and fully dark out by the time we reached the neighborhood. We would've gotten back faster but instead walked our bikes home rather than rode. I'm not entirely sure why; maybe the stink of those asshole bullies tainted them for the time being?
It was a nice walk, though, since it gave us more time to catch up. Roberta told us that her brother had been shipped off the Vietnam the previous Spring. She didn't have much to say about herself otherwise, other than that she had gotten to repaint her room a few months ago.
Chrissy, meanwhile, was dealing with her mother recently beginning a relationship, the first man in her life following the death of her father several years prior. She wasn't happy about this (I could empathize), but explained that her bitterness over the situation was soothed somewhat when he got her a puppy for her birthday in back March.
"I guess I had been in a tolerable mood since then... at least until meeting those bullies back there" Chrissy said, changing the subject abruptly. I was looking downward and noticed that Roberta's fists reflexively clenched at the mention of them (him); it must have been the "mother" comment that got so under her skin, so I decided not to ackowledge Chrissy's comment.
"Well how about the Fourth coming up soon? You all want to get together for the fireworks show?" Teeny asked suddenly, as if to change the subject.
"That sounds great!" said Chrissy.
"Yeah, me too." said I.
"Sure." said Roberta. And several seconds later "Well this is me." referring to her house.
"Alright Roberta, see you on the Fourth!" Chrissy said, louder than necessary.
"Right. See ya, guys." She replied, smiling a little as she walked her bike up the drive-way.
We walked out of her earshot before Teeny said "She'll be more enthusiastic once she cools off. And I'd hope so, too. My parents got me this unbelievable set of fireworks, you guys won't know what hit you!"
She had no idea how correct she would turn out to be.