Testifying
Katherine D. Bennett
(First published in the Lathrop News Thursday, January 14, 1999)
My sisters and I had to walk to school, even though we were just a few houses from 81st Street, the bus cut-off. All the kids on my street walked every day, unless some neighborhood mom had pity on us. Then my sisters and I and every other kid that could squeeze into the vehicle would swarm eagerly for a chance to ride instead of walk. All except for Bobby. No self-respecting mom would let him in her car. He was trouble. He was one of the reasons everyone wanted a ride.
Bobby was a holy terror. In kindergarten, he had to sit at the Baby Table and was never the Helper of the Day. After kindergarten he was always in the slow class, and spent so much time in the hall, it was always a surprise not to see him there. He had a mean old Husky dog named Blackie that he would let loose once in awhile. Blackie only liked Bobby, and he reveled in the terrified, desperate run-for-your-life that Blackie’s presence caused.
Bobby tended to leave my sisters and me alone. We were pretty scrappy and had instilled in him a very healthy respect for sister’s united. His main victim was Jeannie, and I’m certain that even now she remembers him with angry fear.
Jeannie was different from the rest of us. Her father worked in an office and her mother went to the beauty shop to have her hair done instead of wearing spongy pink curlers at home like the other moms. Jeannie always bad socks the same color as her outfit, and a bow in her hair the same color as her socks. She firmly believed in Santa. She was so clean it looked uncomfortable. She had a white bedroom with a canopy bed. There was no mud-pie kitchen in her back yard. No way!!
I really don’t think Bobby personally disliked Jeannie... it was just too easy to torment her. He couldn’t resist. He could easily knock the books out of her arms. Snatching her hair ribbons was so easy, how could he stop himself? She was soft, and she screeched, and she hit like a girl. The beauty part was he could usually time it so that no one saw.
Until one day when I happened along. I saw it all, and as fate would have it, Jeannie really got hurt that day. Bobby had her by the arm and was spinning around, forced Jeannie to run around him, faster, and even faster. He lost his grip and poor Jeannie was propelled face first onto the pavement, painfully scraping one cheek. Bobby stood, stunned and then scampered away yelling “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t tell! Don’t tell! Please! Please!” I rushed over to Jeannie, and helped her up and gathered her books and walked her, sobbing, to school.
Later the principal called me to the office. Jeannie was there, her freckled cheek bandaged and swollen. Her mother stood protectively beside her. Bobby was there. Hands clasped behind his back. He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Please, please, please,” he mouthed at me.
The principal leaned toward me. “Kathy,” he said, “I need for you to tell me the truth. I know you will tell me the truth. Did Bobby hurt Jeannie?” He looked quietly at me. Jeannie looked at me too, her eyes hurt and angry and pained. Her mother’s eyes turned to me, demanding justice for her child. Bobby’s eyes were a wince and his mouth continued a silent “Please, please. please.”
“Yes,” I said.
Bobby sagged. He and I both knew I would witness more, and no one would ask me to testify on his behalf.
Late that night. when Bobby’s father got home. I closed my bedroom window, even though it was hot. It shut out the screaming. “Please, please, please! Oh. Daddy. Please.”
I knew, in the morning, Bobby would let Blackie out, and I would run to school.