Childhood, Narrative Arc, lesson one
My Version of George and the Dragon
There are times when pain is worth the reward.
Billy Harrison is standing like a piece of granite rock at the far end of the alley, blocking the sunlight. I don’t care, I am telling myself, and I’m damned if I’m about to let go of Susan’s hand.
It’s not that I feel supremely confident, I don’t, and whatever happens in the next minute or two is sure to hurt, but the most important thing is not to let Susan see me cry.
I feel her hand twitch in mine but hold on fast. Billy wasn’t in school today, and in his absence, I took my chance to carry Susan Rafferty’s satchel home. I’m not a big kid, bit of a dope really, but halfway home from school we’d joined hands. It felt nice. I don’t know what else to tell you. I mean, in that moment I felt like a prince. You get it, right. You know what I mean.
It’s well known in the playground; Susan Rafferty is Billy’s girl. He is thirteen, but I am determined not to show timidness. I squeeze Susan’s hand. Billy gets astride his chopper bike, pushing off toward us, filling the alley with his size.
Butterflies flutter somewhere in the canyon of my stomach.
