Third Base

It wasn't my plan to be trapped behind the pond by the two older boys. I screamed after they molested me, and they jumped the tall chain link fence and ran away so fast it was as if my voice animated them.

The next day I was outside during gym class playing baseball. I was anxious, standing in the outfield, thinking that now I'd have to admit that I'd been to third base when the kids ask me. First base was kissing, second base was feeling up, and third base was fingers. I saw two police cars pull up in front of my elementary school and two men in suits walk up the three sets of granite stairs. After gym class I was escorted by my favorite teacher to the principal's office. I hoped he wouldn't ask for any details as we walked the halls.

The principal, vice-principle, and detectives were waiting for me: "Tell us what happened." I was silent. Someone said this is too much, let her go. After school I met with one detective. That was better, and I told him the whole story.