We lived on the poor side of the tracks alongside messieurs Riff and
Raff. The rich, not on the government cheese rich, kids lived on the
other side of the freeway called the bench. I generally stuck to
friends from my half of town for my first twelve years. Then in the
seventh grade I had made friends with two kids from the bench, my new
best friend, Cole and the girl who had got me into plenty of trouble
in the seventh grade. Friends on the bench were more worldly and
offered entry into the world of mature naughtiness. Cole and I didn't
get into too much trouble but that girl always had something going on
in the borderlands of morality and legality that she offered freely
to anyone willing to come along for the ride. One day in the summer
between seventh and eighth grade she called and asked me to go toilet
papering with her and some other kids. It was awesome no girl had
ever invited me to do anything let alone something crazy at night I
was ready to go but I needed a plan. Luckily my parents erred on the
side of trusting that I wouldn't be up to any shenanigans because I
was such a massive nerd. I told them I was going to sleep out in my
fort and they said fine. Mission accomplished. At 10 I sneaked out of
the fort and with my heart pounding contemplating my imminent capture
and punishment I snuck with unnecessary caution for an unnecessary
distance away from my house. I was no troublemaker so I didn't know
how sneaky was sneaky enough. Once I figured I was clear I jogged the
two miles across town to where they said we were going to meet up.
They were there. That might not sound too amazing but the whole jog
there I was overcome with a terrifying certainty that they wouldn't
want me coming along and would have ditched me. I was about as happy
as I had ever been in my life to be hanging out with some really cool
kids at their invitation. We decided on toilet papering a family in
that neighborhood's house which for some reason had always been
singled out for abuse and vandalism. I was too nervous to enjoy
defacement deflowering but I understand that is what usually happens
the first time. The father came out and yelled at us to come back
which in my disorientation and fear was a command that I almost
obeyed. Gosh-danged rookie mistake could have cost me my freedom and
dignity. Luckily, I just ran with the pack and got away clean until
the blue and reds started flashing up the street. Running from the
cops was something that I had never fathomed but everyone ran for the
fence that guarded the four-lane freeway and started jumping over.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, holy flippin' whoa. Welcome to the danger zone. I
was so jacked up on peer pressure and adrenaline that I jumped from
about six feet back from the fence grabbed the top bar and bounded
over in the one fluid motion of a seasoned ne'er-do-well. We were
running across the median and over the other lane when Santaquin's
finest suggested we come back and we laughed and declined his offer.
One of the girls gave him the bird and another told him he was
welcome to kiss our asses. The only way to the side of the freeway we
were heading too was to head a mile back to a viaduct and cross over
and come back a mile by which time we would be long gone. Long, long
gone. We all ran to a field and fell over laughing and breathing
hard. I felt so magnificently included and involved and happy. We sat
around and talked for a while as we watched the cop drive back and
forth up the frontage road and shine his light in the bushes blocks
away from our spot. We broke it up and everyone headed home which
meant I had two more miles to walk home but it was some of the best
miles I had ever covered as I relived the highlights in my mind. I
was not caught by the cops or my parents that night.
