Because he lived under the constant threat of attack inside his home, Arthur always wanted to get out of the house with a far greater urgency than other young kids. At an early age, he developed the habit of escaping his home whenever possible, both excited and relieved when taking off for whatever the outdoors had in store.
One early summer day he had left his house and was aimlessly walking along Hawthorne Street when he bumped into an older boy, Buddy O’Brien, for the first time. Arthur was now five years old, Buddy almost twelve. During that initial encounter the older boy immediately assumed the role of bossy big brother. Rather than being put off by Buddy’s aggressiveness, Arthur was overcome by a need to win his approval—at any cost. He felt the quickest way to do that was to play follow-the-leader. For his part, Buddy had plenty of ideas as to how they could entertain themselves. The two boys began to meet on a regular basis, despite their age disparity.
Something struck Arthur as odd. Whenever he went to Buddy’s house, there was nobody else at his home or, whoever was, stayed hidden inside.
Arthur never invited Buddy to his house. There was an indefinable dark “something” about his older friend that even this naïve young boy picked up on and sensed would meet with his parents’ disapproval. Bad company, but, to Arthur, better company than he had at home.
Just a few days after they first met, Arthur arrived at Buddy’s home and found him in the backyard sitting on the ground next to a motionless cat. The cat’s face was disfigured. Arthur asked his friend, “What happened?”
“He died.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know.”
Buddy flung the limp cat into the woods.
#
Soon the two boys began a crime spree that quickly escalated in its severity. First, broken spokes and flattened tires on bicycles, then punctured tires on automobiles, next, stolen mail they had no use for (sometimes taking the mailbox itself), and then on to throwing rocks at passing cars. The rock-throwing led to Arthur’s first confrontation with an angry nonfamily member.
Buddy and Arthur would arm themselves with as many rocks as they could carry in their hands and pockets and then lurk behind bushes, just off the street. When a car passed by, they'd hurl as many of the stones as possible and then take off deep into the woods. By the time the driver under assault stopped to see what had happened, the boys would be long gone.
So it went, until one particular day when, standing in the woods along Hawthorne Street, they spotted an approaching vehicle. Buddy, farther back in the woods than Arthur, ordered the younger boy to begin the attack. When the sedan was almost past him, Arthur let loose a rock with gusto that fell short of its target. Simultaneously, Buddy threw a large stone with more force. Direct hit on the rear window. It splintered. The sedan screeched to a halt. From the driver’s side a man jumped out on the run giving chase. Buddy, with a head start from deeper in the woods, was already out of sight. Arthur began running for his life.
A five-year-old trying to outrun an adult male—it should have been an obvious mismatch. But not to this five-year-old. Arthur scrambled through bushes, poison ivy, prickers and low-lying tree limbs. All the while, the crunching footsteps of his pursuer got louder and louder. Buddy? He was just a distant memory.
Snagged! A hand wrapped around Arthur’s chest, yanking him to a halt. “What the hell ya think you're doing, you little sonofabitch?”
Arthur was too frightened to answer. The man grabbed him by the hand, ready to drag him out of the woods. Arthur sunk to the ground and wrapped his arms around his head, ready for a beating.
With a mixture of anger and puzzlement, his captor demanded, “What's wrong with you, boy?” Again Arthur had no answer to offer.
“Get up, dammit!”
Arthur remained frozen in a fetal position. The man yanked him to his feet and the two made the trek back to the car, which was sitting on the road, idling in neutral. The stranger shoved Arthur into the front passenger seat. “Where do you live?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know? Well, then we'll have to go to the police station to find out. Can’t have you out here lost in the woods, right?”
“No! I don’t wanna go to the police! Who are the police?”
“No police, eh? Maybe it’s time you found out who they are and what they do—before you become a bigger brat than you already are. Whadda ya think, wise guy? ”
The man forcefully grabbed the youngster by his arm and violently shook him. “Okay. Let’s start over. Do you live around here?”
“Kind of.” Arthur was stalling for time, hoping to dodge his own execution.
“Listen. I'm not going to put up with any bullshit. You tell me right now, who are your parents? If you don’t, I’ll beat it out of you. Your choice.”
Arthur had never been beaten by anyone but his father. He briefly wondered how a stranger’s punishment would feel compared to what he received at the hands of his father. Then, after taking another look at the man’s angry face, he decided he didn’t want to find out. Better to stick with the devil you already knew at home.
In a trembling voice, the young boy blurted out, “You mean my mom and father?”
“Yeah, your mom and dad. Where do they live?”
Arthur gave up all hope of escaping his fate. “It's the next turn right down the road. The next road, you go that way.” He pointed with his finger.
After arriving at the Berndts’ house, the stranger marched up to the front stoop, pulling Arthur with him. His mom had heard the car and was waiting at the door, a look of concern on her face.
“Is this your son?”
“Yes. What’s happened?”
“Plenty. Your son broke my car window. He did it on purpose, while I was driving, no less. Throwing rocks. This is going to cost someone money and it's not going to be me.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry. I truly apologize. Was he with anyone?”
“I didn't see anyone else.”
Marguerite directed her look towards Arthur. “Who were you with?”
“Nobody.”
“Arthur, did you throw a rock at this man’s car?” The young boy remained silent.
She turned back to the man, “Again, I apologize. I’m Marguerite Berndt.”
“Jack Stevenson.”
“Sorry to meet you this way. This is very embarrassing. He can be a handful, but I know that’s no excuse. I am so very sorry. I just don’t understand this. I mean, how could he reach your window with a rock?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is I caught him running away. That’s proof enough for me.”
Marguerite again asked her son, “Are you sure no one was with you?” The youngster shook his head.
“I’ll get this repaired and send you the bill. Actually, I live over on Whittier, so I’ll just drop it off. Okay with you?”
“Certainly.”
“You better keep an eye on him. He's awfully young to be doing this kind of stuff.”
“I can’t argue with you on that, if he did. I’m just not sure.”
“Well, why would he run then? Maybe he thinks it’s funny but someone could get hurt. What if my window was open and he hit me?”
“I completely agree. I’ll have his father talk to him about this.”
The young boy’s heart sank. “Talk to him about it” meant his father would find out what he’d done wrong and that would lead to much more than a lecture.
Arthur’s fears proved to be justified. Marguerite divulged the entire story to August when he got home from work. There would be no stay of execution; it went off without a hitch.
Chapter 5
When Buddy and Arthur met up a few days later, the younger boy dared stand up to his older partner-in-crime. In a rare display of assertiveness, Arthur insisted his rock-throwing career was over. He was still smarting from the welts and bruises—courtesy of his father—his most recent antisocial effort had earned him.
Buddy was nothing if not creative. If Arthur was no longer up for rock throwing, his pal knew other ways they could entertain themselves. One day the two were wandering through the neighborhood. They had no particular destination, as far as Arthur could tell. The two kept walking until Buddy stopped in front of the Cohen home. The owners were gone, along with their children and two dogs. Buddy and Arthur traipsed through the woods that lay near one side of the house and walked out onto the Cohens’ backyard. Buddy, being the taller of the two, used a lawn chair to stand on and peeked inside the house through several different windows. Arthur... Buy now at https://walterstoffelauthor.com/buy-now