“Let’s play marbles before the bell rings,” Socks yelled.
“Okay, let’s go,” the rest called out in unison, grabbing their bags of marbles and dropping their bikes where they stood. Those whose bikes were still sporting kick stands didn’t bother to kick them down. They raced to the back of the playground where they had dug holes in various strategic places for their daily marble tournaments.
The Bopper came to a sudden stop as did the rest of the boys as they caught up to him
They were staring toward the back of the playground by the time Socks arrived. “What are you looking at?” Socks asked.
Darwin shuddered, “I think it’s a girl, but she looks weird. She’s just lying there.”
“Where?”
Darwin pointed. “Down where we play marbles behind those trees.” “I can see her too,” Little Davy whispered.
“I wonder what she is doing here. School won’t start for an hour,” Bopper whispered. All the boys were staring, their mouths open.
“She ain’t moving,” Anthony said. “I think she’s dead.”
The Bopper looked at his friend and scoffed, “You’re lying. I’m going over the fence to see. You guys coming?”
“I guess,” Socks stammered.
The boys climbed over the chain link fence, the same fence Mr. Gruhlke, their principal, caught Socks and Little Davy scaling to retrieve a baseball that was hit off the playground during recess last Wednesday. When the principal caught them, he had grabbed each boy by his arm and picked up a baseball bat. He then called all the boys over and told them to ‘listen up.’ He brought the bat up to Little Davy’s crotch taping his testicles, which made Socks cringe in fear thinking his sack was next in line for the bat. Mr. Gruhlke told them not to crawl over the fence because they might slip and get their water works hung up on the spikes that were sticking up on the top. Little Davy was still nervous about disobeying Mr. Gruhlke; so while he was straddling the fence, he gave a quick glance toward the school and Mr. Gruhlke’s office, before jumping to the ground.
“Oh crap, Socks, I think she’s dead; look at the blood.” Darwin cried.
The boys stared at the vacant eyes and the purple blotches covering her face and noticed cuts and swelling on the left side of the girl’s head near where her eye should be. Both eye sockets were empty.
Darwin threw up his grape soda pop.
“Someone beat her to a pulp,” Socks whispered, quickly glancing back with fear in his eyes, hoping whoever did this wasn’t lurking in the shadows of the playground. “We gotta call the cops,” The Bopper yelled. “You keep watch while I go tell Mr. O’Malley
“I ain’t stayin’ here I’m coming with you,” the rest of the boys replied in unison, their voices filled with terror.
“Okay, let’s go,” they turned and ran as fast as they could mounting their bikes, they rode toward North Fratney Street and the light shining, like their beacon of safety, in front of O’Malley’s Corner Store, where they knew the kindly Mr. O’Malley would still be standing at the front counter reading the Milwaukee Sentinel.
Mr. O’Malley looked up from his paper, surprised to see the boys returning to the store. They threw their bikes on the ground and ran up to him; fear was in their eyes.