~

Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to keep that spark of temper in my mind from turning into a burning blaze.

  Marty’s gloating face jiggled in laughter inches from my face. He snorted, his jowls shaking. I clenched my fist, straining for calm, for some way to keep that fist from flying into his teeth. Marty held up the remainder of my model plane and waved it tauntingly in front of my nose. Back and forth, back and forth.  My eyes narrowed. I could feel the blood coursing through my circulatory system, threatening to throw its full strength into the purpose of teaching Marty Crenshaw a hard lesson. But I pulled back. I bit my lip and clenched my fists and took deep breaths some more until I was practically hyperventilating.

   “You’re a chicken, Parker!” He cackled.

   I turned and started to walk away. Slowly.

  “I’m not a chicken,” I murmured under my breath.

  “Yes you are. And you know what else?” He darted in front of me, blocking the sidewalk that led home. “You’re a thief.”

   Suddenly I realized that I was branded forever. My friends hated me, my mama was disappointed in me, my father was ashamed of me, my school teacher, my Sunday school teacher, my Uncle Billy, and now even the town’s most unpopular kid, Marty Crenshaw, all despised me and labeled me a thief.

   I forced my fist to keep the peace once more. It was hard, but I about-faced and took the long route home. Tears stung my eyes, an even worse humiliation for any boy of ten.  I gulped them down and walked on. Outside my house mama was watering flowers and my father was rocking in his chair from behind a crisp newspaper. The election was coming up and he was worried.  I slipped past them unseen and into my back yard, where my little sister was sitting in the sunshine.

  She gave a gap-toothed grin when she saw me, and ran to hug my legs with her golden hair flying out behind her. She was pretty like my mama, and already just as sweet.

   “Jem my hero.” She gurgled.

 

 And the tear I had tried so hard to stop finally fell.