The Day I Almost Committed A Felony Page 2
I didn’t have to wait long.
That Friday the three of us were at the football game. It was the first home game of the season and Mareka and I never miss the home games. It was one plan I wouldn’t let him cancel. He wasn’t thrilled about spending the evening at the game with me tagging along, but I didn’t care. Besides, I was getting used to feeling like the fifth wheel, and I had become immune to his dirty looks and bad attitude. Besides, I enjoyed envisioning the entire football team taking turns dancing on his big, fat head after each touchdown.
What happened next I can’t really say. All I know is I went to get a drink at the concession stand and when I came back she was gone. Jon was leaning against the back of the bleacher with his arms crossed, and he was acting pretty nervous, which was unlike him.
“Where’s Mareka?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I'm not her baby-sitter.”
I was ready to pour my soda down his pants, but I didn’t want to waste a $3 Pepsi on a guy as worthless as Jon Pinkerton.
He looked away in a dismissive manner that boiled my blood. It took everything in my power not to rip his eyelashes out with the tweezers in my purse.
“I just love it when you talk like the jerk you are,” I said angelically and then went to look for Mareka.
A short search found her in a dirty, little corner behind the south side bleachers. She was half-crouched, holding her sides and gasping for breath. I could hear a weird rattle coming from her chest, and just as I was going to ask her what was wrong, her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell over.
Right about then is when I completely freaked out. I’m not a doctor (obviously), but I knew something was seriously wrong. My best friend in the whole world had just keeled over and we hadn't even been to the prom yet.
I began yelling for help. Of course, the human maggot was the first to find us. He rushed over to help, but I didn’t want him to touch her. I pushed him away and hissed at him to call an ambulance. I think I may have had fire shooting from my eyeballs judging by the way he scrambled to find a phone. Once the ambulance arrived, I climbed in beside the gurney and tried to make myself as small as possible so that I didn’t get in the way of the paramedics who were working on her.
Later, a sympathetic nurse told me that Mareka suffered from a punctured lung. Someone had broken her rib at just the right spot and shoved the fractured bone into the soft tissue of her neighboring lung. It was a CSI moment, (as in that only happens on television) or a Final Destination plot thread (as in Death made that happen because there’s no way on earth that just happened naturally) except it was horribly real. The nurse patted me on the shoulder and said I probably saved her life. Me, a hero. But I didn’t feel like a hero. I felt…rage.
It only took one guess who delivered the punch, and I was not going to let him get away with it, either.
In hindsight I probably needed to take a time-out but I wasn’t thinking straight. I walked out of the hospital with a mission. I had to kill Jon Pinkerton. (Now remember, this was in the heat of the moment. I wasn’t thinking clearly.)
Our town is not very big so there were only so many places for him to hide. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t go home. Maybe my murderous rage had given m some kind of insight to the human maggot. I found him at the edge of town. He was in the park, sitting on one of the swings. For a moment, I just stood beside the car staring at him. It was only then that I realized I didn’t know how to kill someone.
I was a sophomore in a rural high school; I didn't own a gun. I couldn't stand the sight of much blood, so even if I’d had the foresight to bring a knife, I wouldn’t have been able to finish the job without first throwing up and I couldn't very well strangle him. He was much stronger than me. I was stumped. I probably should’ve Googled it first. Again, hindsight.
He looked up to see me standing there. It was like a stand-off, of sorts.
I needed a plan. What could I do? I looked at my feet. A palm-sized, jagged rock stared up at me. I imagined sinking the sharp end of it into his head. I could see the blood squirt and choked back a chili dog trying to rumble back up my esophagus. Now was not the time to urp up dinner; it was time for action. I focused my anger into strength.
I bent as if to tie my shoe and grabbed the rock. Concealing it carefully in my jacket pocket, I walked toward him. The spiky end of the rock poked my side, reminding me of my mission with each step. I pictured Mareka's face crumpled in agony as her own rib slashed through the tender lung tissue. That’s some serious shit for a kid my age to deal with, for Mareka to go through. Oh yeah, he needed to pay. I didn’t have much faith in the justice department doing its due diligence. People worse than Jon Pinkerton got off all the time and there was no way I was going to be okay with him walking away with a slap on the wrist and probation.
Finally, we stood face-to-face. The moonlight shone down, wrapping the playground in an eerie glow. I’d never really noticed how creepy playgrounds were at night.
“Punctured lung.”
I waited for a response, but he disappointed me by remaining silent.
“Do you understand, you jerk?” I asked, putting my hand in my pocket to grip the rock I was hiding. He looked as if he might try to deny that he’d hit her and honestly, I think I was waiting for it so I could use that opportunity to kick him in the nuts but instead he appeared broken up about what he’d done.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he admitted in a small voice. A moment passed then he said, “I was so mad because I didn’t want to go to that stupid game with you! And then…I just got so mad. It happened so fast.”
“She’s hurt pretty bad,” I said, unmoved by the sudden tears glittering in his eyes. Man, I never knew I was such a cold bitch. It’s amazing what you discover about yourself in extreme circumstances. And previously I thought I was bad ass for mastering a few dance steps.
“I didn't think that I hit her that hard. You've got to believe me.”
I remembered how she’d looked as she struggled for air, as the damaged lung began to wheeze helplessly. I could hear the life rattling out of Mareka’s body, and then I saw the bruises.
“Saying sorry won’t make this all better,” I said, pissed that he would even try to make it all go away by offering some lame apology.
“I know,” he acknowledged, a contrite look crossing his features in the moonlight.
“It’s time for you to feel some pain,” I said softly, griping the rock so tightly my fingers were starting to ache.
It was payback time. A prayer seemed a little inappropriate, but I said one anyway, hoping that God was in an avenging mood.
“What? You wanna hit me?” he asked incredulously as he jumped out of the swing. Oh big surprise, his angry face replaced his sad face.
I stepped back. My heart was slamming against my breastbone so hard I thought I could feel a bruise inside. It was now or never. Time to put up or shut up. My grip on the rock was sweaty. I was afraid that, in the crucial moment, my weapon might slip out of my hand.
Mistaking my step back as a sign of fear, a dark expression covered his face, and I caught a glimpse of what Mareka might have seen the moment before he crippled her lung. He fed on fear, needed it. Well, I wasn’t Mareka. Fresh anger pumped through my veins and I decided that there was no time like the present to get down to business. I lunged at his head with the rock. I closed my eyes and sliced downward. The rock hit something solid and Jon yelped.
I opened my eyes to the sound of Jon screaming and holding his head. Home run! I hit him again. He sank to the ground without another sound.
I stood over him trembling. Suddenly, the playground that I had known since I was a girl in pigtails took on a surreal quality. The pale light shining off the faded equipment made everything look strange and sinister. Standing there with my childhood memories ricocheting in my head, I wondered how badly this act of vengeance was going to affect my high school career. Certainly
the cheer squad was out. Knocking off a fellow student was not usually considered an act of school spirit.
Suddenly, I realized I had a much bigger dilemma on my hands. Well, aside from the fact that I’d just committed a felony.
I looked down at Jon. His eyes were shut peacefully and one arm was resting across his chest. If it weren’t for the blood splattered down his shirt and drooling from the hole in his head, you’d think he was just catching a siesta.
I had to think. What was I supposed to do now? Another instance where planning ahead would’ve been useful.
Grabbing Jon by the ankles, I nearly herniated a disc by dragging the big lug away from the swing area. The work was slow but the fear of prison added strength to my screaming muscles and I managed to drag him to my car without being seen. In hindsight, I suppose someone was smiling on me that night.
After propping him up and strapping him into the seat belt, I quickly stripped and redressed. Luckily, I had a change of clothes in the backseat from a recent sleepover. (Thank God for laziness.)
In between grunting and cursing and dragging his body, I hatched the perfect plan. Well, as perfect as any plan could be given two seconds of thought. It was so crazy it had to work.
If it didn't, I would be sitting the rest of my young life behind bars.
I drove back to the hospital and started screaming my head off the minute I pulled