I hated Cesar!
"Why won't he trade
cards with me? He can keep his beat-up 'ole card. Who cares!"
I cared. School had let
out. As I crossed Broadway absentmindedly, I plotted how I was going
to get that 1983 Topps Jim Rice baseball card. Rice was the only man
I would ultimately ever steal for, and Cesar was the only other kid
in the 4th grade
who collected cards. Getting Rice out of Cesar's aluminum Hulk
lunchbox, undetected, would not be easy.
"Maybe he won't
notice," I lied to myself.
The crossing guard
chuckled at my mumbling as I passed her in the crosswalk. I stepped
up onto the curb in front of the Broadway Bike School. On that day I
was too preoccupied to look at the rusty one-speed with the vintage
mustache handlebars that the store owners had mounted over the entry
way. I liked that bike, but not as much as the 1983 Topps Jim Rice
card.
It was the last one I
needed to complete the Red Sox set!
A few steps after the
shop I took a left into the alleyway between the school and my
building. It was my path to and from school every day. I often played
there with friends. Although distracted, I instinctively picked some
burs from the burdock weeds growing out of the cracks at the pavement
edges.
I
almost made it to the end of the alley.
The thing had a long
snout and tail. Plump, like an oversized rat. In my panic I could
have sworn the thing had said, "We've
been expecting you." I threw the burs in my hand, making the thing
jump into the air. I screamed, turned, and ran all the way back to
school.
City kids should really
be told about possums.
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