This is the continued story of Simon’s Journal.
I would highly recommend you read the first volume of this story,

Simon’s Journal Thirteen Days – The First Crusade
before you begin this novel.

 

The following narrative is nearly a complete work of fiction.
Any similarity to actual individuals living or dead is completely unintentional.
If reading a coming of age story about boys wearing diapers and exploring their awakening sexuality is offensive or illegal in your area, then might I suggest you go read War and Peace or something equally stimulating.

 

 

Simon's Journal

Volume II

 

 

Thirteen Nights – After the Crusade

 

 

Written by

Danny
Author of Thirteen Days

 

 



 

Chapter - 8

PART 4 – Sunday, March 07, 2004 – Bump in the Night 

 

Boy was my inbox full! I had emails from everyone plus several hundred pieces of spam. I was not in the mood to spend the rest of my day going through all the email so all I did was delete the ones I knew to be spam. Then I sent only two emails out; one to Jamie, telling him to have everyone ready at exactly midnight and be waiting for me and a second one went out to the only person I thought I might be able to get help from . . . Bull.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Simon

Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004

To: Bull

Subject: I need your help

 

Bull,

 

Simon here! No time to go into anything now but I will

later if I see you. Right now I need your help again! Please

don’t tell anyone! If you are able to, I need you to come in

your car and meet me at the same place you picked me up

that one night. I will be waiting there at 11:30 p.m. tonight.

Please come; it is a matter of life and death!

 

Simon

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

I signed off from my email, disconnected my e-journal from the computer and since I did not have my closet hide-away anymore, I decided that the loft bed would have to do. So, I climbed up, sat myself down leaning against the fresh white walls and began journaling to pass the time.

 

When mom came in to tell me supper was ready she found me slumped over in the loft bed with my e-journal lying in my lap. If it hadn’t been for my body armor holding me semi-upright I am sure I would have falling right over onto my side while sleeping. I am also grateful to the creators of this electronic journal for building in a feature that I wasn’t aware of until today. Apparently, they thought of everything, because when left on but unused for more then fifteen minutes my e-journal automatically saves whatever I had open and turns itself off so that the batteries do not get used up and my work isn’t lost.

 

“Simon sweetheart!” Mom said giving my foot a shake.

 

I opened one eyes and saw mom’s head peeking at me through the metal guardrail. I groaned and stretched, “Did I fall asleep?”

 

“It’s okay, you had a big day!” was moms answered.

 

“How long?” I asked still stretching my arms and legs straight out from me.

 

“For a while, I imagine.” She offered before asking, “Do you want some supper?”

 

“Huh? What time is it?” I asked while allowing a yawn to escape and contort my face.

 

“A little after seven.” Mom answered while pulling on my foot to get me to come down.

 

I sat my e-journal on my bed and started to move toward the ladder. “What we having?” I asked still trying to get my brain to wake up.

 

“Pizza!” Mom said, which was the magic word needed to jump start my brain.

 

“PIZZA?” I shouted from halfway down the ladder.

 

“Uh-oh! I think someone sprang a leak.” Mom cooed when she noticed a wet spot on the back of my pants.

 

“I did?” I asked trying to reach around to feel for it but was unable to find it because my armor kept me from bending and twisting enough.

 

“It isn’t very bad.” Mom assured.

 

I looked up at the upper bed and felt bad for getting pee on it already but remembered that the bedspreads had that water resistant material.

 

Mom must have been using her Super Mom powers to read my mind at that very instant because without me saying a single word she asked, “Did you know they make special bedding just for bedwetters?”

 

I stepped down onto the wooden floor and shook my head while rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I think I was also a little dazed by her use of the BW-word.

 

“I didn’t either but the mother of your little friend, Lowell, told me all about them and also that Wal-Mart sold them.” Mom said squatting down in front of me and began unzipping my pants. Her words made me wonder just how much time mom got to spend talking with Lowell’s mom.

 

“Really?” I asked as she pulled my pants down to my ankles and allowed me to step out of them. “Even the sheets?” I asked as she pulled down my plastic pants.

 

“My goodness Simon!” Mom commented when she saw how wet my diaper was.

 

I looked down to see that the diaper looked like I had shoved a garden hose down the front and turned on the spigot.

 

“Wow!” I commented as well.

 

Mom directed me to lie down on the lower bed so she could change my diaper. Returning to our conversation about the bedding she said, “Well, Wal-Mart had special sheets too but they didn’t look as soft and comfortable to me so I bought you regular sheets.” She had pulled off the tapes but left the diaper in place while she went after the diapering supplies in my new dresser. “I did get the special pillow and mattress covers for both beds.” She said walking back over to me with the diaper cream, powder and a cloth diaper.

 

She continued to relate to me some of the, ‘Behind the Scenes’ tales about my rooms transformation. “You’re father and Ruddy put together this bed.” She leaned forward and in a softer voice said, “Funniest thing I have ever seen!” she snorted with laughter.

 

When I was rediapered mom had me stand back up and helped me put the plastic pants I had been wearing back on. She then let me take the used diaper and drop it into my new diaper pail beside my dresser. It is really cool; when I step on a little lever by the floor, the lid pops open. Inside there are two compartments. The left side has a plastic trash bag like mom uses in the kitchen trashcan and the other side has what looks like a white, waterproof, nylon liner for cloth diapers. I also noticed that the lid seals tight enough so that any smells are kept inside the can. I wish I felt free enough to let mom and dad know how happy I am to have my very own diaper pail but I think I will keep that to myself . . . for now.

 

I was ready to walk out of my room exactly as I was dressed at that moment wearing only a shirt, cloth diaper, plastic pants and no britches. However, mom stopped me, “You might want to put on some pants!” she suggested.

 

“How come?” I asked.

 

“Because we have company for dinner.” She said while taking the desert camo pants I had been wearing, to my closet and dropping them into the laundry bag. She looked down into the laundry bag and off handedly commented, “Looks like I am going to need to do a load of your clothes soon.”

 

She pulled out a pair of new blue jeans and after pulling off the tags, she helped me get them on too. Even wearing cloth diapers they were a little big on me so mom got one of the new belts out of the closet and laced it through the loops in my jeans.

 

“Now put on your slippers and you will be all set!” she said giving me a kiss and a playful swat on my diapered bottom.

 

“Okay!” I said and went to Jamie’s side of the bed where I had left my slippers earlier and stepped into them. I turned around, tugged on the bottom of my shirt and joking just a little I asked, “How do I look?”

 

“Very Hansom!” Mom answered with a big smile.

 

In the dinning room, much to my surprise I found BJ and Lowell sitting with dad at the table. The three of them had already starting eating before mom and I had arrived but stopped when we walked in.

 

“Simon!” Lowell cheered.

 

“About time!” BJ joked and while mom and dad were not looking he showed me a mouthful of chewed food.

 

Sitting in the middle of the table were two large pizza boxes, one of which was almost half empty already and there was also a big thing of breadsticks with dipping sauces. The aroma of pizza in the air was delightfully intoxicating and I had to swallow as my mouth was salivating in anticipation.

 

“W-what are you guys doing back?” I asked surprised to see them both again so soon but I had not meant for it to come out sounded as rude as it had. Thankfully no one took it badly.

 

Dad must have guessed I had been sleeping because he asked, “You just wake up?” I nodded and smiled while mom and I joined them at the table.

 

Lowell, had just taken a bite of his pizza before saying, “I wath ava ab E-A’z!” and the scary thing was, I understood every word of it.

 

BJ held his hand up to block his view of Lowell, “Dude! That is so gross!” and all three of us boys started laughing.

 

“I didn’t think you were coming back today!” I said feeling immensely glad to have them back and while taking a piece of pizza from the box closest to me.

 

Dad jumped in, “Actually, I had to take some tools back over to his father,” dad motioned BJ, “And I asked the boys if they wanted to join us for dinner!”

 

No one talked about anything negative at all while we ate which I was both grateful and relieved over. Maybe at the very first, I had felt uncomfortable eating with BJ there, given that I was wearing thick cloth diapers under my jeans but when I remembered that he already knew I needed to wear them, I settled down and enjoyed the evening.

 

I took a drink from the glass of water in front of me while thinking that Coke would have been better with the pizza. I listened as they recounted tales of this weekend; a few of which I had already heard but it was still fun to hear about them again. As I listened to them, I could tell that over the weekend my two friends had apparently sealed their recently formed friendship which had begun a few days ago when they had come to visit me in the hospital.

 

After dinner, the three of us retreated to my room. With each of us in pain from our tummies having been stretched to their limits, we fell backward onto the lower bed while rubbing our bulging bellies and groaning. Actually, I didn’t fall; I lowered myself careful so as not to jar my ribs but my two friends had just sort of fell over like two trees.

 

“I am never going to eat again!” Lowell moaned.

 

“Never is a very long time!” BJ jokingly pointed out, “But I bet I won’t be hungry for a week!”

 

Adding to the joke I said, “I don’t know! I think I could go for some pie right about now!”

 

Lowell let out a strangled gurgle, “Ugg! No way!”

 

BJ laughed and said, “Pie? There’s pie? Why wasn’t I told about the pie? I want pie!” which earned him a pillow in the face from Lowell.

 

After resting for a while, the three of us decided to check out my new computer. We were quietly tinkering until dad came in to tell us that it was time for him to take BJ and Lowell to their homes. However, our time on my new computer taught me a lot about Microsoft Windows based computers and we even had time to hook up my e-journal and download a few cool programs into it that I didn’t know were things I could use it for.

 

I have several cool games on it now like Checkers, Chess, Tic-Tac-Toe, Solitaire, and Junior Jeopardy. Lowell found an awesome dictionary and thesaurus program that we downloaded as well as a cool scientific calculator that does fractions. That is going to come in handy when I go back to school tomorrow.

 

One kind of funny thing did happen while we’d been messing around with m computer and e-journal. Lowell and BJ were over sitting on my bed trying out the Junior Jeopardy so I took the chance to check to see if Bull had responded to my email. Sure enough he had and only within minutes of me checking. For the next few minutes she bantered back and forth, me telling him my plan and he going on about how suicidal I was for even thinking of it. In the end he agreed that if he could sneak out of the house, he would. The end of our conversation was the funny part. It went something like this . . .

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Simon

Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004

To: Bull

Subject: Good idea

 

Bull,

 

Of course my idea sounds like a good idea to you; you live

over there in that upside down development.

 

Simon

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Bull

Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004

To: Simon

Subject: Re: Good idea

Bull to Simon

 

Simon,

 

Ha-Ha! People who live on the moon, uh – I mean up on the

hill, shouldn’t joke about Wallaby Glenn Housing

development.

 

Bull

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Simon

Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004

To: Bull

Subject: Re: Re: Good idea

 

Bull,

 

Who was joking? I’ve seen the houses in Wallaby Glenn, both

upside down and right side up and I’ll take ours here on the

hill any day!

 

Simon

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From:  Bull

Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004

To: Simon

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Good idea

 

Simon,

 

Wallaby Glenn Housing Development doesn’t need all those

fancy overgrown trees and ritzy houses! And besides, you

only like it up there because they named your complex ‘Eros’

and that’s as close to sex and you will ever get!

 

Bull

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Simon

Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004

To: Bull

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Good idea

 

At least I have a sex . . . Male by the way!

 

Open your fly and check to see what you are! You grip the

handle of the zipper and pull downward, oh wait ... you’re in

that upside down Wallaby Glenn . . . pull upward then!

 

Simon

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Bull

Sent: Sunday, March 07, 2004

To: Simon

Subject: Zipper?

 

Simon.

 

Let’s see ... Zipper—Fly—Pull—Ouch! Ow! Oweey!!

 

Bull

 

Ps. See you tonight, if I can!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

As soon as dad had left with my two friends I ran back to my room to retrieve the dirty cloth bag that I had wrapped in a towel from under my dresser. I heard mom calling from somewhere else in the house, “Simon you need to start thinking about getting ready bed.” Which I knew was her way of telling me that I had to go to bed now.

 

Fearing she was coming to check the condition of my diaper, I quickly stuffed the bundle back under my dresser and sure enough, while I was taking off my shirt she appeared in the doorway to my room.

 

Before she could say or do anything I asked, “Can I get my school stuff ready first?”

 

Coming on into my room she was smiling as she said, “Nope!” and before I could protest she said, “All of your new text books are already in your new backpack and are sitting by the backdoor.” Mom said coming on into my room.

 

“New books?” I asked.

 

“I called and told your principle, Mr. Freeman that you needed new books and he dropped them off early this morning for you.” She said bending down and helping me with the last two buttons on my shirt.

 

“Oh,” I said comprehending that my school things must have been thrashed too; and the second part of what she had said finally registered with me, “I got a new backpack too?” I asked as she was taking down my pants and exposing my wet diaper.

 

“Yes and a new spiral notebook. Let’s see, what else? Oh and a really neat mechanical pencil.” mom said while having me step out of my pants.

 

Then in a sudden burst of panic I had the worst thought, “My old Journal?” I cried out.

 

My outburst startled mom and she let out a squeal of alarm, “Simon!”

 

“Is it okay?” I was shaking with worry that more then a years worth of memories might be lost.

 

Mom took hold of my diapered hips to try and keep me from blasting off, “It is in your father's office. It was torn in half and the spiral binding was pulled out but I think you should be able to save the pages.”

 

It's hard to explain how I felt at that very second. I think I was feeling relieved and filled with dread both at the same time. And as if she had anticipated my next question she said, “No one read it! Your father put all the loose pages into a box for you to go through later.”

 

I think I released a small sigh of relief at hearing this.

 

“A few of the pages might need cleaned off a little.” mom added while petting my diapered hip.

 

I didn't ask anymore questions and let her change me into a dry cloth diaper and fresh plastic pants. When she was finished I asked for the box and followed her out of my room and all the way to dad’s small home office.

 

I didn’t open the box until I was back in my room alone. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I Looked down into the open box and saw that it was not as bad as I was expecting but still bad enough to make me want to lash out at someone. I reached in for a few of the pages and began spreading them out on the floor when mom came back in.

 

“Sweet heart, why don’t you save that to do that later!” Mom said. “Right now you need to get your rest. Tomorrow's going to be here before you know it.”

 

I reluctantly gave up, put the torn pages back into the box and placed the box into my closet on one of the empty shelves.

 

While mom tucked me into to bottom bed we heard dad coming in through he front door. He must not have been alone because we could hear him talking to someone. Mom kissed me softly on my forehead and left, turning off the overhead light on her way. Less then a minute later dad popped in to say good-night too.

 

“So did you have a good day?” he asked while sitting on the bed beside me and leaning in to kiss my forehead too.

 

I nodded that I had.

 

Petting my face he asked, “Do you think you are ready to go back to school tomorrow?”

 

I didn't answer right away but took some time to think about his question before answering with another nod of my head and saying, “I think I am a little bit scared,” and then quickly added, “but only a little!”

 

“Why are you scared?” he asked while rubbing my armor covered chess through the comforter.

 

“What if someone finds out I have to wear diapers.” I said softly.

 

“You know you are allowed to get up and go to the nurse’s office anytime you need? Even in the middle of a class!” he said.

 

“Yea but then everyone will wonder why I left the room and didn't get into trouble.” I groaned.

 

Dad rubbed me harder through the bedding as he thought about what to say next, “How about I give you you're mom's cell phone to keep in your backpack and if you want to leave school at anytime tomorrow you call me and no matter what I am doing—no matter where I am, I will come to get you?”

 

That sounded good to me, so I nodded and maybe smiled a little to let him know I liked his idea. Dad kissed me once more before standing up, “I will go make sure it is fully charged right now and before I go to bed I will put it into your pack for you.”

 

“Okay!” I agreed.

 

“Hey son?” dad started to ask.

 

“I love you too dad!” I said back with a giggle.

 

He was nearly out of my room when something occurred to me, “Hey dad?” I asked while looking around my darkened room.

 

“Yes?” he said stopping and turning back toward me.

 

“There's no alarm clock!” I commented.

 

Apparently, I was the first person to notice this fact because dad stepped back in, flipped on the light and was looking around while his chin in disbelief. Dad had a peculiar expression on his face when he said, “But I know we bought one!”

 

Letting go of his face and snapping his fingers he blurted out, “Bet your mother knows were it is.” and was gone in a flash.

 

It didn't take long for him to return with a really awesome clock that he was just pulling out of the black, yellow and red box it had come in. He flipped my new desk light on and maneuvered it around so that he could see to plug the clock in before sitting down in my new white desk chair to set the time and alarm on it. The chair gave out a funny kind of squeak when dad sat down almost as if it was complaining about the weight it was being forward to support.

 

“This has an alarm that starts out soft and gets louder and louder until you get up and turn it off. It's supposed to wake you up gently and not scare you awake.” he explained while fumbling with the alarm settings.

 

“Where was it?” I asked.

 

“Huh, what? Oh, in the garage!” he answered without looking up at me, “Just didn't get brought in I guess.”

 

Thinking I was being cute I asked, “Is there more stuff in the garage for me?”

 

“Sure!” Dad teased, “If you want empty boxes!”

 

“Ah darn!” I acted as if I were disappointed.

 

“There you go!” he said setting it on my desk by my new computer monitor. He set the time and the alarm before coming back over for one last kiss, this time on my lips, “See you in the morning!”

 

“Hey dad?” I called out just after he had flipped off the light and was almost out of my room again. Even though it was dark in my room, I could still see him from the light out in the hallway; he turn and made a funny face.

 

“Thanks!” I said.

 

“Good night son!” and he left, leaving my door open.

 

Seconds later the hallway light went off and I was left in near darkness with only the glow of my new clock to keep me company. It was a struggle to stay awake but I was worried that if I fell asleep I would not wake up again until morning. I had too many plans for the night to risk it so as soon as I heard mom and dad go to bed; I got up and closed my door so that when I turned on my light they wouldn’t know it.

 

Despite my diaper looking a little wet I decided to leave it on and just got dressed. With my coat on I went to my window to open it and climb out but suddenly had seconds thoughts about it.

 

“What if the cops are still watching our house?” I thought out loud and then started to get concerned that maybe they could see that my light was on through my sheer curtains. I raced over and flipped off the switch; leaving myself in the dark again and having to wait for my eyes to readjust.

 

“Wonder where my flashlight is?” I whispered to myself. Thinking it was probably destroyed; I didn’t even bother to look for it and instead decided to get one from elsewhere in the house to take with me.

 

I was glad to see the paper was gone off the carpet as it surely would have given me away with my first step. Funny how I don’t remember mom and dad taking it up while I was lying in bed pretending to be asleep; maybe I did doze off for a while without knowing it.

 

Out in the kitchen I grabbed the flashlight that was always left plugged into the wall over the dishwasher. I had forgotten that when it is unplugged it automatically turns on and of course I had been looking right at it when I did. My eyelids slammed shut while I fumbled blindly to turn it off.

 

Standing at the backdoor something in me told me not to open the door and I almost didn’t listen to the little voice. It’s a good thing I did though because when I looked up I saw yet another new feature to our home that no one had bothered to point out to me. Apparently, we now have a home invasion system installed in our house. Now I have watched enough even crime dramas to know that if I were to open the door it would only be a matter of seconds before mom and dad would find me dressed and out of bed; not to mention the cops that would surely come with guns at the ready.

 

“How am I going to get out of here?” I groaned quietly at the door as if expecting I it to tell me how to get past the new alarm system.

 

I couldn’t risk turning on the flashlight again for fear someone, namely the cops might see the light roving around inside. I tiptoed to our front door and saw that it too was secured by a magnetic sensor in the upper left corner.

 

“This is insane!” I moaned softly.

 

From the back of the house I heard a small sound. I froze and waited. There it was again and I knew mom and or dad was up. Panic set in, “What am I going to do? If they see me dressed they will know I was up to something and will probably put me on restriction for the rest of my natural life or beat me to within an inch of death when they realize I was trying to sneak out of the house after everything that had happened.

 

“Come on Simon think of something!” I said to myself.

 

Sudden inspiration hit me like a brilliant nuclear explosion inside my head. As fast and as quietly as I could, I stripped all of my clothes off so that I was only wearing my diaper and plastic armor again. I stuffed my clothes behind the couch and laid myself down just as dad appeared from out of the hallway looking for me. I was still clutching the flashlight, which was off and I was pretending to be sleeping.

 

“Simon?” dad whispered when he spotted me.

 

When I didn’t respond he reached out and touched my head. I didn’t really have a plan, I was basically just allowing my instincts to take control and hope they didn’t fail me. As soon as I felt his fingers brush my hair I acted as if he had startled me awake.

 

I switched on the flashlight and the beam of light hit him right in the face. As if he had taken a punch from a champion boxer, dad staggered backward several steps. While, shielding his eyes with his hands he asked in a normal tone, “What are you doing sleeping out here?”

 

Still putting on my little performance I faked stuttering, “I-I-I c-could n-not s-s-sleep-p-p in m-m-my r-r-r-room!” and how I managed to get tears to begin flowing from my eyes was beyond me but it was the effect I needed to make my drama believable.

 

The flashlight was still on but I had pointed it away from dad. He came over, sat on the edge of one of the cushions and hugged me to him. “Did you get scared?” dad asked petting the back of my head.

 

“N-n-no!” I continued with my phony stuttering. “I-I-I j-j-j-just . . .”

 

Dad finished my sentence for me, “Just couldn’t sleep?” and then offered me an excuse, “Too new and strange?” he asked.

 

“Y-y-yeah!” I sniffled into his shoulder.

 

I saw a light from outside flash across the curtains of the front window. “D-dad I-I-I . . .” and I didn’t get to finish my thought. Dad must have saw it too because he had released me, stood back up and was looking out of the new peephole to see who was on our porch.

 

I turned to watch him as he flipped open the cover of a small box on the wall to reveal an illuminated keypad. I had never noticed this new feature and made a mental note to myself that I needed to work on my perceptive skills. I saw dad punch in 1 3 1 3 before hitting a blue glowing button. There had been a red light on the left side of the keypad that turned green when dad pressed the blue button and that must have meant the alarm system had been deactivated because dad flipped the little panel door closed again and unlocked the front door.

 

I was still laying on the couch but I could see from the moment dad opened the door that it was Mr. Segal standing on the other side of our storm door.

 

“Everything alright?” I heard Mr. Segal ask through the glass, “We saw some lights inside and . . .”

 

“Sorry Tom, everything’s fine.” dad answered trying to keep his voice down so as not to wake up mom, “Simon is having a difficult night is all.”

 

“Is there anything we can do?” Mr. Segal asked.

 

“Are you any good at singing kids to sleep?” dad joked.

 

That appeased Mr. Segal who laughingly turned and walked off our porch and disappeared into the night again.

 

I watched dad close and lock the door before flipping the panel open and punching in the same alarm code 1 3 1 3 before hitting a blue glowing button again. I saw the green light turn back to red before dad closed the panel.

 

“Why don’t you come sleep with your mother and I tonight?” dad asked reaching out for the flashlight I still was holding.

 

I had not been prepared for that question and without thinking I nodded and said, “Ok-kay.”

 

“Want me to carry you?” he asked.

 

This time I shook my head, “I-I c-can w-w-walk.”

 

On the way down the hallway I had a thought that might buy me a few minutes to think of something else to get out of sleeping in their bed with them. I stopped, turned and asked, “C-can y-you ch-ch-change me?”

 

Dad smiled, tousled my hair and ushered me to my room where I laid myself on the lower bed as if I were climbing in to sleep. After retrieving another cloth diaper and the wipes dad came over and started removing my plastic pants.

 

That is when I figured out a way to keep from having to sleep with him and mom. I purposefully didn’t say anything to dad but instead let him work at getting me changed and while he was pinning the clean diaper into place I acted as if I had already fallen asleep. It worked because after dad was finished pinning the other side he pulled my plastic pants the rest of the way off seeing how they were already around my ankles, and got a pair that he could snap over my cloth diaper so that he wouldn’t have to move me as much and would be less likely to wake me back up. When done, he pulled the covers up to my chin and left me to sleep.

 

I waited at least twenty minutes to be sure dad was back to sleep before I got up. This time I decided to stuff some clothes under the bedspread so that if dad or mom looked into my room they would think I was still in bed. Also, I figured that since dad just changed my diaper, there was less chance that either of them would try to come into my room to check to see if I needed changed.

 

I was about to sneak out of my room to go get my clothes from behind the couch when I saw the flashlight sitting on the corner of my desk. I also noticed that I only had about 15 minutes before I was supposed to meet Bull at the Corner Dairy.

 

As quietly as a church mouse I snuck back down the hall, redressed myself and then punched in the code to deactivate the alarm. I pressed 1 3 1 3 before hitting a blue glowing button. I watched for the little red LED light to change to green. I wanted to shout out triumphantly when it worked.

 

Now I was smart enough not to go out the front door but instead escaped out the backdoor and went around behind the garage. There is a chain link fence that separates our yard from our neighbors and I knew from experience that there was a spot where I could squeeze under it. However, given the muddy conditions I opted for climbing over the top. It surprised me when I was on the other side and my ribs were not hurting. “Guess I am healing up!” I whispered to myself.

 

Had someone been up late or driving down the street I am sure they would have spotted me running but apparently lady luck was with me. Running in the late night air made my throat feel extra cold and dry but I didn’t let it bother me. I was sure I had arrived at the Corner Dairy 7-eleved Store with a minute or two to spare but when I got there I didn’t see Bull’s yellow car anywhere in sight.

 

I was standing right beside the big green trash dumpster feeling hopeless when from across the street I saw a set of headlights come on. “Please let that be Bull!” I said a loud. I waited and watched the car begin to move but realized it was too quiet to be Bull’s car.

 

I don’t know how long I was standing there in the cold night air waiting for Bull but it felt like a lifetime! To keep from being seen by anyone driving by, I had hunkered down behind the trash dumpster and only had my head sticking out so that I could watch for his car.

 

The cold must mess with people’s heads because it sure was messing with mine. I kept thinking about the oddest stuff while I waited.

 

I was first thinking about how I would get downtown without Bull’s car but after a while I found myself thinking about my new room and everything that was in it. My mind eventually began to take inventory of the things I had seen that had already been mine and that took my thoughts to my golden yo-yo trophy that I’d noticed had been broken and glued back together. That started me thinking about how I had got it in the first place . . .

 

It was right after school had started back after a great summer vacation. It was the same year that, when my birthday had come and I found out I had a half brother named Jamie. I had been out at recess with three of my best friends, Lisa, Sean and Victor who everyone just called Vic for short. The four of us were standing around waiting for our turn in Kickball when another friend of ours came running up to us. His name was guy and he had transferred to our school in the last month of school of the previous because his father had got a job transfer and had to move their family here.

 

Chad was all excited because he’d just had a run-in with the playground monitor. He gets excited about stuff like that because he is always thinking a teacher or someone is going to catch him doing something wrong, but Chad never breaks the rules . . . not ever!

 

“You guys are never going to believe what just happened!” Chad said while panting because he was out of breath from running.

 

Lisa, who had little patience and was known to be a bit of a Tomboy looked at him and said very matter of fact like, “Let me guess! The sky is falling and you are the designated town crier?”

 

I might need to add that, if Lisa were not such a softy, I mean deep down inside, she’d probably have ended up being the playground bully. But seeing how Sean, Vic and I had known her since first grade, we knew she was all talk, well most of the time anyway. She would threaten to fight any boy or girl in our school but as far as I know, she’s never hit a single person in her life. Unless you count me!

 

This one day she had been telling us about this Kick-Boxing match her uncle had taken her to see the night before when all of a sudden she spun around while demonstrating a left hook and clocked me a good one right on the nose. I’m not sure who cried more, me or her! She didn’t get into any trouble because I said it had been an accident and all the teachers knew we were inseparable friends.

 

Anyway, after her smart-alik comment to Chad, Vic said to her, “Hey, let the kid be! You know Mrs. Bickly has it in for him!”

 

Mrs. Bickly was the playground monitor and everyone knew she hated kids! She also hated anything that would fall under the category of ‘FUN’. Everyone did there best to stay clear of her or risk getting sent inside to sit out recess for the rest of the day. Heck, she even sent me in once just because I coughed without covering my mouth first!

 

Finally, it was my turn up to kick for my team in our little game of Kickball. I’ve never been good at sports. Heck, if it were not for Vic being the best at any and every sport there is and being my best friend, I bet I would never have been picked for anything. Without fail, I was always the first person Vic picked when the other team captains were picking their team players. He never held it against me that I never ever had made it past first base before and more times then not I usually ended up getting out before I was even half way to first base.

 

On this day nothing was different. Bowzer, as we all called him because he was always barking like a dog, was both the other team’s captain and also the pitcher. He was almost as good at sports as Vic and the two of them were always competing at everything they did whether it was sports or seeing who could burp the longest at lunchtime.

 

Bowzer sent the ball rolling toward me, I cocked my leg backward and with all my might let go a kick. However, I kicked too soon and ended up kicking my shoe off and sending it sailing through the air toward third base. After that, I forfeited my turn, hopped over to the sidelines and laid on the ground, on my stomach until my bottom stopped hurting; all the while listening to the taunts and laughter from the other teams players as well as a couple from my own team. Sean had been nice enough to retrieve my lost shoe for me.

 

Sean was kind of like the glue that kept all of us together. I guess he was kind of like our leader. Everyone in our school knew Sean back then. He always wore the same silly black and yellow baseball cap all day long, even inside the school; despite the fact that it was against the rules. Back then, I was not sure why he managed to get away with it but I was sure that if he had been any other kid he’d have been busted. But all the teachers and even the principle let him wear it and never said word one to him. It wasn’t until about a week before my birthday that year that I found out the reason was because when he was only three he fell backward into a glass top side table and had a sizable chunk of hair, skin and flesh sliced right off the back of his head.

 

The only way I had found out about it was because someone, as a joke tried to take his hat from him at recess. Boy, I don’t think I had ever seen Mrs. Bickly move so fast before that afternoon. Despite the fact that she looked to be at least a thousand years old she came running over, snatched Sean’s hat away from the kid, and jammed it down onto Sean’s head before dragging the boy off of the playground. To the best of my knowledge, the boy whom had accosted Sean was never seen nor heard from again.

 

Now, during a single period of recess there was never enough time to play a full nine innings of kickball so all of our games were limited to only three innings. Should recess end before the game was over, whichever team had the higher score, won the game that day. While laying there in the grass watching Vic and the rest of our team annihilate Bowzers' team I started to take stock of myself . . . sports-wise I mean. With every score achieve by Vic and our team I began to realize just how useless I was at the game. Of course that wasn’t always to be the case but at that moment in my life it was very much true.

 

Sean had come over after running the bases and sat down on the grass next to me without saying a word.

 

Realizing that he wasn’t going to say anything I decided I’d start the conversation, “You know something Sean?”

 

“What’s that?” he said back while still keeping his eyes on the game.

 

“I am no good at anything!” I moaned.

 

“Ah come on Simon! All you need to do is practice a little!” he said poking me in the side.

 

“Hey stop, that tickles!” I giggled and rolled out of his reach.

 

When I was sure I was out of his reach I continued, “No really! I have tried everything and I am just no good at anything!” I said trying to enlist him into my little pity party.

 

“Now how could you have tried everything Simon? You are only a kid for cripes sake!” Sean said bounding into the air and pouncing onto my back, effectively pinning me to the ground. Luckily, Mrs. Bickly didn’t see him or he would have been sent inside for the rest of recess.

 

Later, that same week my dad had taken me to work with him on, “Bring your Son or Daughter to Work Day”. Little did I know that a small kindness bestowal upon me by one of dad’s female co-workers would change everything for me.

 

I had been at dad’s office for a few hours acting as a gopher for dad and everyone that sat around dad. If someone needed another ream of paper, I was sent to the supply closet to get one; if someone was on the phone and wanted another cup of coffee, I would take their mug to the convenience center, fill it and carefully carry it back for them. Dad paid me $2 an hour, and back then, $2 was a heck of a lot of money to me. By the end of the day I had earned $16 but dad gave me an even $20; he said the other $4 was a bonus for working so hard all day. But as I was saying, I had been at dad’s office for a few hours when dad had asked me to do something “VERY IMPORTANT!” as he put it. He had me go all he way to the basement, find a man named Eugene Beakman and ask him for box number 23097A1 which dad wrote on a small Post-it note because he knew I wouldn’t remember that long of a number by the time I reached the elevators let alone all the way down to the basement.

 

Amazingly enough, I found Eugene Beakman without getting lost on the way. He was a tall guy that looked to be in his early twenties and he could have been the poster child for Nerd’s Anonymous. I think he was lonely down there all by himself because even after I handed him the post-it he continued to blabber on about stuff I still don’t understand. When he finally gave me the box I said thank you and ran for the elevators as fast as I could before he could start talking again. I later found out that he was the president of the company’s son and had done something very bad and as punishment he was made “Archive Manager” which was kind of a joke since no one else worked in the archives but him.

 

The box was not very heavy at first but by the time I had got back to dad’s floor I was hardly able to keep from dropping it. Thankfully a very nice lady, whom I had helped earlier that morning by making several copies of a memo, came to my rescue and helped me get the box back to my dad.

 

As it turned out, dad had jotted down the wrong number and so the box I brought him was not what he wanted or needed. However, instead of making me carry it all the way back down to the basement, which I seriously doubt I could have done, dad took it himself. He gave the excuse of, “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

 

The lady who had come to my rescue asked me to put some stamps on some envelops for her. I ended up putting stamps on over a hundred envelops and by the time I was done I don’t think I had a single bit of spit left in my whole body and my tongue felt like it was coated with paint. I will say this much though, the stamps at least tasted good, kind of like mint only different.

 

While I was licking and placing each stamp she was going on and on about how wonderful I was and how she couldn’t get her son to, “so much as to say the word ‘work’!” This is something she said to me at least a dozen times.

 

I had spotted a yo-yo sitting on her desk; she said someone gave it to her as a gag gift at one of the office parties. When I finished licking all those stamps she asked me if I wanted the yo-yo and though I did, I told her that dad was already paying me for working that day but she insisted that I take it. She also took me and bought me a Dr. Pepper from the vending machine to wash the stamp paste out of my mouth. Boy that Dr. Pepper sure was good after all them stamps!

 

After we got back home, I spent the rest of the day in our backyard practicing with that yo-yo. Only once was I able to make the darn thing go down and then come back up again. However, it had not come all the way back up to my hand, but instead only came about half way back up before dropping back down and just spinning.

 

The next day was Saturday and instead of getting up to watch cartoons I got my shower, because even back then I was still wetting my bed every stinking night. Afterward I got dressed and without breakfast I ran out to our backyard to continue practicing.

 

The gang showed up after lunch to see if I wanted to come out to play Freeze Tag. When they knocked on the front door mom had told them I was out in the backyard already, so they came around the house to get me.

 

“Hey Simon you crud! Come on; let’s get a game of Freeze Tag going!” Lisa said. Lisa was always calling one of us ‘crud’ and no one ever took offence to it; it was just her way!

 

“I don’t want to play freeze tag!” I said.

 

“Oh come on Simon, we need someone easy to catch!” Vic teased.

 

“No, you guys go on without me! I am going to keep practicing.” I answered back.

 

“Ah come on! You can play with your yo-yo later can’t you?” Sean asked.

 

“I don’t want to do it later; I want to do it now!” I said back while winding the string back into the yo-yo for the millionth time.

 

“You know, I don’t think what you are doing can actually be called yo-yoing. I think you have to actually get it to come back up to be able to call it that. What you are doing is more like . . . just ‘Yo’!” Lisa said.

 

“Maybe it’s broken.” Chad offered.

 

“It’s not broken!” Sean said.

 

“Here let me try!” Vic said.

 

“NO!” I snapped at him, “I will do it myself!”

 

The gang eventually grew board with watching me toss the yo-yo down, wind the string and toss it over and over again. Everyone but Chad had left; I think Chad wanted to give me moral support. Actually, out of all of my friends in Elementary school, I think Chad and I were the most alike. We were both smaller then any of the other students and we both liked the same comic books. Chad and I got in the habit of taking turns each week at buying the latest editions and would share them with each other. That way we both got to read them and still save some of our allowance every other week. After the fiasco at my birthday party when my brother’s mother came over drunk and spouting off, Chad was the only one that stayed friends with me afterward. Unfortunately, his father got reassigned back to his companies Colorado office a week later and after a single phone call to say goodbye, Chad too was gone, never to be heard form again.

 

“Are you sure you are doing it right?” Chad asked in such a way so as not to make me feel bad.

 

“I will figure it out eventually.” I answered back giving it yet another toss.

 

“Can you do any tricks yet?” Chad asked in the same manner as before.

 

“I can make it fall and spin for a long time.” I joked.

 

Chad politely giggled before saying, “I saw this lady on TV doing a yo-yo trick called the Galaxies Revenge, or something like that.”

 

“Was that the one where the lady knocked a cigarette out of a mans mouth with a yo-yo?” I asked.

 

“She did that trick too but the trick I really liked was where she had six yo-yo’s all going up and down and flying all around the head of some kid on stage.” Chad said flailing his hands all about his head to demonstrate what he had saw.

 

“Oh yeah! I saw that one!” I shouted accidentally giving the yo-yo too hard of a tug causing it to fly up and smack me right in my boyhood jewels.

 

I fell to the ground groaning in agony whilst Chad had flipped over backwards on the swing he had been sitting on. He was laughing so hard that he could not get up and at first I think mom thought something had happened to both of us. She had just happened to look out the kitchen window and saw the two of us on the ground. She came flying out the backdoor screaming frantically. Boy was she mad when she realized neither of us was really hurt all that badly.

 

She ended up making me come into the house, sit at the kitchen table while holding a bag of ice over my boyhood jewels which ended up not being a good thing at all. The cold eventually caused me to wet my pants right there but thankfully both mom and Chad thought that the plastic bag had leaked on me. I never did confess to either of them that I really wet myself; it’s just another secret that I keep locked away inside my mind.

 

Before too long I was back outside, in dry pants I might add, trying with all my might with Chad sitting on the swing watching me again.

 

“Wish I could remember how that lady did it!” I said to Chad after many more unsuccessful attempts.

 

“What lady?” Chad asked having already forgotten about our previous conversation.

 

“The yo-yo lady on TV!” I growl more out of frustration with my yo-yo then with him.

 

Chad screwed up his face as if he was thinking really hard, “Oh, my dad said that was a really old show. From way back when my dad was a kid!”

 

“Really, because I thought it was something kind of new.” I said back.

 

Chad shook his head, “Nope, don’t think so, but dad told me the ladies name.” and he began pounding on the side of his head to dislodge the memory from wherever it might be hiding within his brain.

 

I continued practicing and trying several more times before Chad jumped from the swing and shouted, “The fabulous Molly Holly!” and promptly toppled to the ground because in his excitement at remembering he had over balanced. He hit the ground rolling and was back up to his feet before I even had the chance to ask if he was alright.

 

“Molly Holly, Molly Holly!” he kept shouting.

 

“Wait a second!” I said, “Isn’t that the name of that crazy old lady over by the sports park? You know the one that will never give back anything that lands in her backyard?”

 

I could tell that my question had flipped a light on inside Chad’s head because his eyes were almost glowing with excitement. “Oh yeah, you’re right!” he said and the reason we knew her name was Molly Holly was because it was painted on both sides of her mailbox in fancy white letters.

 

That, of course, was all that needed to be said to get me to want to meet her, face to face. An hour or so before dinner I asked if I could go ride my bike until time to eat. I honestly was surprised when my mom said yes.

 

Without delay I raced to Molly Holly’s house, jumped off my bike before it had come to a complete stop and ran up to the door. I pressed the door bell but did not hear anything so I knocked on the old wooden screen door.

 

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying!” came a rough scratchy voice from deep within the house and by the way it sounded, I didn’t know if it had come from a man or a woman.

 

“I-I am n-not selling an-nyth-thing!” I shouted back, “I’m looking for the Fabulous Molly Holly!”

 

“I’m retired! Go away!” the voice inside the house yelled back.

 

“Mrs. Holly I was hoping to learn a few tips on how to do some of the yo-yoing tricks from you!” I pleaded.

 

When no reply was returned I hung my head and started to leave. Just then the front door opened and the same voice, though a smidgeon softer, said, “It is not a bunch of tricks! It is an art form! It is dancing at its most perfect manifestation!”

 

I spun around when I had heard her begin talking and nearly fell off the porch in the process.

 

“You serious about learning boy?” she snapped.

 

“Yes mam! I sure am!” I said back with more enthusiasm then I knew my small body could hold.

 

“Alright then! You come over everyday after school and I will turn you into one of the greatest yo-yoers in resent years!” she said.

 

“Really? I mean honest; you can . . . I mean wow! Really-really?” I shouted and thrust out my hand to say thank you but instead she snapped again.

 

“No, no! That’s your instrument! Keep it safe!” and promptly slammed the door shut.

 

I started to run toward home again and was almost to the sidewalk when I heard the lady shouting after me, “What is your name boy?”

 

“Simon David Leonard Junior!” I shouted back with gusto. I guess I expected her to say something else but instead she only closed her door again.

 

I don’t think I touched the ground even once all the way home. Heck, I had been so excited that I was halfway home before I remembered my bike and had to run back to get it.

 

I spent the rest of the evening in my room practicing. I even slept with my yo-yo that night and when I woke up Sunday morning I carried it to the breakfast table with me while still wearing my very wet GoodNite and only one sock. Somehow I’d lost the other in my bed during the night.

 

“No toy’s at the table! You know better then that!” mom had said and I stuffed my yo-yo between my legs for safe keeping.

 

After breakfast I started to get up to go change and get cleaned up but when I reached for my yo-yo I found that my GoodNite had sprung a leak and got both the chair and the string to my yo-yo wet.

 

“Oh Simon!” Mom groaned when she saw the mess.

 

She had me strip out of my GoodNite right there in the middle of the kitchen, which wasn’t a big deal to me. I mean, mom and dad had seen me naked loads of times and it didn’t bother me in the least; not back then anyway.

 

Being naked at that age was fun, almost like an adventure and though I wanted to go get cleaned up so I could go out into the backyard to practice more, I also felt impelled to run around the house naked, laughing and whooping it up. Dad chased me out of the kitchen, into our living room and back out again. I laughed and squealed as he chased me into the dinning room where I made two laps around the table before he caught me.

 

He proceeded to tickle the life out of me all the way to the bathroom before tossing me into the shower along with my yo-yo.

 

While he washed my body free of any traces of pee, I was concentrating on washing the string to my new yo-yo.

 

“Daddy will it rust?” I asked.

 

“I am pretty sure plastic doesn’t rust!” he said giving me another tickle.

 

I must have got a little cold while he was washing my hair because I didn’t even know I had started to pee until dad jokingly griped, “Hey, no peeing in the shower!” and just like that I stopped.

 

When I was done showering and dad had dried me off, he made me sit on the toilet until I pooped. Now back then I went through this phase where I would only wipe my bottom one time and call it done which usually meant I was running around with a dirty rear-end. This would drive my mom crazy because all my underpants were permanently stained with little brown racing stripes down the middle. So my dad, declared that until I learned to wipe my butt right, I had to have him or mom come check every single time I pooped to be sure I was clean. If I didn’t do it right they would wipe my butt and then give me a spanking right there with no pants. It’s surprising how many bare bottom spankings I got in our hallway bathroom.

 

This sort of treatment stopped the day we were at a viewing for a friend of mom’s. I had needed to go potty and since I knew where it was I just went all by myself. However, when I was done pooping there in the funeral homes’ bathroom, I opened the door and shouted at the top of my lungs, “Daaaaad I’m done pooping! I need you to come check my butt?”

 

However, that didn’t occur until about a year later; so I was still bound by the rule and with a deep breath I bellowed out, “DAD, I’M DONE!” which brought his prompt return to checked that I had wiped properly. When he had declared me clean, I ran to my room and dressed myself.

 

I spent the entire day practicing without success and I will admit that I was starting to loose heart. But then without warning I finally got it; I can’t say how or why, only that right after dinner I was leaning again the side of the garage feeling like a complete and utter failure. I remember saying out loud, “One more time!” and so I carefully rewound the string around my yo-yo and slipped the loop around my finger. For good luck I gave my yo-yo a kiss and sent a prayer up to the clouds that seemed to be hanging in the sky as if waiting and watching for me to do it right. With the flick of my wrist I sent it spinning downward toward the awaiting ground. When it reached the end of the string I gave it a tug with a small jerk of my wrist and it came back up into my hand. I did it again, and again, and again. On the sixth time in a row I caught it, held it tightly to my chest and cried out victoriously, “I DID IT!” which got every dog in the neighborhood barking and my mom yelling out the backdoor for me to stop yelling.

 

“Mom! I did it, I did it, I did it!” I cried to her as I showed her how I could now do it every single time I tried.

 

Monday proved to be a very challenging day. I first woke up in a soaking wet bed due to having wet so much that my GoodNite couldn’t hold it all. That sometimes happens so I refused to let it get me down. But then at school I nearly got my yo-yo taken away from me on three different occasions. All my friends thought it was cool that I had finally managed to learn how to yo-yo but there enthusiasm for me would wane in the days and weeks to come.

 

The first afternoon at Molly’s, she wouldn’t let me call her Mrs. Holly; said she never got into all that fancy talking, we had a great time! I mean I had a great time; Molly seemed to get mad all the time. After practice she took me to her family room and showed me all the trophies she had won. I had no idea she had been world famous. I thought she was just a TV star but she had awards, medals and trophies from more countries then I knew existed.

 

Everyday at school was the same thing for the next few weeks. When I wasn’t in class, and even sometimes while I was in class, I was practicing everything Molly had taught me. After about two weeks or so my friends caught me over by the jungle gym during recess. I wasn’t on the jungle gym; I was actually standing inside the metal work that formed the dome and was practicing yet again with my yo-yo.

 

It was Lisa that spoke up first, “Enough with the yo-yo for crying out loud! All you ever do anymore is play with that thing!”

 

“Thing?” I snapped back at her, “It’s not a thing; it is the Duncan Speed Beetle!”

 

“The 'what' beetle?” Vic asked.

 

“The Duncan Speed Beetle! It is the newest addition, hard-core series yo-yo. It is designed to be the best at looping!” I said as I climbed out of the jungle gym so I could show them without endangering anyone that might be climbing over me.

 

I began a series of maneuvers while still going on about the wonders of this particular yo-yo, “It features a large ball bearing axle, friction stickers for quick response and two sets of spacers for maximum versatility.”

 

Chad was rubbing his head while Lisa started to look like she wanted to pound me for talking so fast and using big words.

 

“This yo-yo will spin at unbelievable speeds, do any type of string trick and still loop as good as any yo-yo on the market.” I said demonstrating a particularly difficult ‘Moon-Shot’.

 

“Pretty cool!” Chad said.

 

“So how many of those things do you have?” Vic asked.

 

“Only nine so far.” I answered popping the Speed Beetle into my pants pocket and pulling out one of my favorites, “This here is the Yomega Saber Raider!”

 

Lisa actually liked the Yomega Saber because it looked like purple glass and had a skull on both sides of it.

 

“This one is for doing long sleeping maneuvers while still performing smoothly.” I explained.

 

“I didn’t know yo-yo’s slept.” Vic said and I wasn’t sure if he was attempting to be funny or was really being that stupid. He then asked, “Do they dream?”

 

That put Lisa over the top, “DO THEY DREAM?” she yelled at Vic and then lunged at me.

 

However her timing couldn’t have been worse because just as she lunged forward I had swung the Yomega Saber out to demonstrate how to make it sleep but instead I nailed her right in the left eye. She went down like a sack of wet sand but she didn’t cry, Lisa never cries. She says only sissies and babies cry.

 

Mrs. Bickly ended up confiscating my Yomega Saber Raider and I had to spend the rest of recess sitting inside while everyone else was still out there having fun. I never did get that particular yo-yo back from her either!

 

The day finally came when Molly decided I was ready for competition. But instead of starting with something small she enrolled me in the Tri-state Yo-Yo Championship Competition, with my parents’ permission that is.

 

I don’t think I was ever as nervous as I was on the day of the competition. Molly explained after checking in that I was to compete in five different events and while she was telling me this, she was pulling off my coat.

 

“What?” I asked nervously and then over the PA system we heard, “Simon Leonard report backstage.”

 

“M-molly I-I-I c-can’t.” I stammered.

 

“You can and you will win!” is all the pep talk she gave me before shoving me behind a curtain to the awaiting crowd of competitors.

 

Amazingly enough I had the highest score in my first three competitions with the closest score a full three points below mine. So going into the fourth event I was feeling pretty confident, actually I was over confident which was nearly my downfall. When all was said and done I had come out on top but only by one-quarter of a point higher then this tiny oriental girl who ran off crying when she saw that she had not made it to the final event.

 

Thankfully I had over an hour before the last event so that gave us time to watch some of the other children compete. There was this one boy, who was thirteen and I knew this because besides having a number pinned to our backs, our names and ages were also listed below the number. His name was Ivan Kervosloski and wow was he good. He probably would have gone all the way had he not attempted the Galaxies Revenge at the end of his third competition. I will never forget how the crowd went wild when they realized what it was he was attempting. He was up to four yo-yo’s at once and I thought he might pull off what only Molly had ever managed to master. It was the one thing that had made her so famous and I watched both the boy and her as Ivan introduced the fifth yo-yo into the air; but that is when tragedy struck. The little girl whom had been standing there while Ivan attempted the Galaxies Revenge was struck not once but twice in the side of her head. She fell unconscious on the stage and had to be rushed to the hospital. I had never seen so much blood before; it was both gross and mesmerizing at the same time.

 

For a few breath taking moments everyone feared that the competition would end right then and there but after Ivan and his sister, yes the little girl that was taken to the hospital was his little sister, after they left the stage Ivan’s trainer, who was also his mother, pleaded with the organizers of the Tri-state Yo-Yo Championship Competition to allow it to continue for all the other boys and girls that had worked and trained so hard. In the end they agreed and after the stage was cleaned up everything continued as if nothing had happened.

 

Of course the accident was horrible but it seemed that everyone was buzzing about it now. Everyone we walked past seemed to be talking about how the same thing had happened three years ago except someone had actually died that time.

 

For the last competition there were twenty four of us that had made it and I was so thankful that we were allowed to bring one adult backstage with us because I was so nervous that I couldn’t even talk and I felt like I was going to have a breathing attack at any second. Actually, I wasn’t the only one backstage that was so very nervous because when I went to the bathroom to go pee there were at least a dozen nervous boys in there waiting in line to pee too.

 

Mom and dad had stayed out front while Molly had escorted me to the back. As luck would have it, they had us perform by high scorer first and since I had the lowest score out of all twenty-four of us by two and three-quarters points, I had to go last. This meant Molly and I had to stand backstage for over an hour while we watched each kid perform. We each were given exactly three minutes to show our stuff while the panel of eight judges scored us on a multitude of categories.

 

After the first five had finished I was feeling like I didn’t belong with such fantastic champions. After the fifteenth I was ready to throw in the towel and go home. While the boy that was a head of me was out there something happened that breathed new life into me.

 

 

Next Installment:

Chapter 8 - PART 5 – Bump in the Night, Continued

 

 

** For the latest news on how each installment is coming along as well as answers to questions asked by other readers and so much more, visit me at www.talkhard.5u.com.  As always, your thoughts matter to me very, very much, so please send any comments, questions, suggestions, or criticism to me at: [email protected] and I promise that I will reply personally to everyone that takes the time to write to me!  **