Part 14

"Stop right there!"

For most boys, those three words actually mean, "run". The boys scattered. Most executed a Baryshnikov-esque jump turn and sprinted back down the hill. A gymnastics coach would have been pleased by the grace and execution that the boys had displayed in their haste to escape.

However, two boys had stood still. The first, was August. Though his mind was screaming frantically, begging his feet to run, his body stood motionless, paralyzed by both fear and guilt. The synapses in his brain stopped firing and whatever signal his mind was trying to send was not getting through.

How pathetic, August thought. His response to a traumatic situation was neither "fight" nor "flight", it was simply, "quiver in fear".

The other boy that had not moved did not stay because of fear. He would have been the first back down the hill had the next two words yelled caught him.

"Fredrick Canon!" It was Freddie's father. The owner of the big red truck and the school's janitor.

Calamitous for both Freddie and August, the owner of the beige sedan was Mr. Bridger, the school's principal. Both Mr. Bridger and the elder Canon were now steaming straight towards the two frozen boys.

"Did you see what you did to my car?" Mr. Bridger was livid. He had always been a man with a short fuse and a volatile tempter. He enjoyed the structure and power of administration, but had little patience for students. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Freddie, what happened? Who did this?" Mr. Canon was much level headed, but his voice and tone still carried the same severity and weight. He had received the school board's letters advising against the use of the school's fields. As an employee of the school itself, he knew he would be held to a higher standard.

Freddie remained quiet. Mr. Bridger knew him well, for Freddie had been sent to his office several times for acting up in class. Once Freddie bloodied another kid's nose after that student had teased that Freddie was going to follow in his father's footsteps.

"Who did this!" Mr. Bridger was nearly screaming. August could see an angry blood vessel pulsating in the corner of the principal's brow. August worried that it might burst and spray them all in hot human blood.

Freddie still remained silent.

"You," Bridger now focused his wrath on August, "I'm only going to ask you once, do you want to be suspended?" he threatened, "Who did this?" Mr. Bridger paused between each word wanting to hammer home the severity of the crime.

"Do you know how much this will cost?" Bridger was always aware of the costs of such things.

Freddie was accustomed to these types of brow-beatings. He had weathered many berating from figures of authority and these censures held little sway. For August, on the other hand, this type of rebuke was new beast of the outside world. August's parents adhered to a strict no-shouting and no-corporal punishment regimen during his childhood. August was inexperienced in this type of interrogation.

Knowing he was raised not to be a liar, August prepared himself to confess. He would withstand the verbal assault and the impending punishment his parents would dole out. At the same time, he had hoped to gain favor amongst the neighborhood boys by rightfully taking the blame, saving the rest of them from punishment. August saw himself as a noble samurai, who would fall on his own sword.

But, during his confession, August's throat seized up at the most inopportune time. Raising his hand and extending his index finger August moved up to point to Freddie. August began his admission.

"He..." was all August was able to utter before his words failed him. Maybe he hadn't yet caught his breath from the run up the hill. Maybe he was overly nervous because of the violence in Mr. Bridger's voice. Maybe a bug had flown into his mouth and stopped his vocal cords from working properly.

In his mind August was saying "He gave me a ball and I threw it up and it came down on your windshield. I did it but it was an accident". But all that came out was, "he".

This one word coupled with August's accusatory finger pointed directly at Freddie was enough to convict him front of his father and the school's principal. August immediately realized his error but the tirade had already begun and he was quickly drowned out. Mr. Bridger railed on Freddie, then yelled at Freddie's father. He yelled and pouted like a petulant child. Eventually, when Mr. Bridger stopped to catch his breath, Mr. Canon said calmly.

"We'll pay to have it replaced Mr. Bridger."

Freddie said nothing. He knew that with his reputation and words of denial would be moot. His case was lost with one simple word and point from August. August stood witness as Freddie was unceremoniously lead to his father's truck like a convict being sent to the penitentiary.

The look that Freddie gave to him as they big red truck pulled away was only sign August needed to know that his existence among the neighborhood boys was extinguished.