I had trampled his garden--his garden he put so much time and work into.
He had found my footprints running through the garden in a straight line--right through the azaleas and the loosestrife and the bleeding hearts. He found my sneakers with dirt caked in the rubber soles. And I denied it. He sat me down in a chair and smacked me across the face with one of the long stalks of loosestrife I had trampled and broken. I still denied it. He hit me again and I swore it was another kid that must have run through the yard. It was another kid's footprints. He hit me again and told me he found the dirt in my sneakers. I still lied. I swore the dirt came from another kid's yard.
Finally, he gave up. I was a liar and a sneak--and until I realized that I couldn't get away with it he would make my life miserable. A liar and sneak. A little mouse.
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stop screaming pulling out in front of his apartment then he smashed it |