The Lost Boy

on the center bar and coast through the freshly cut grass of the play park. After parking my bike, I’d scramble through the immense tri-layered wooden fort. I’d climb all the ropes, and run and jump on the chained drawbridge. After exhausting myself, I’d lie down to catch my breath. I always stretched out on the highest level so I could feel the warmth of the sun’s rays as they inched their way across the park.
    Whenever I heard laughter, I’d peek over the ledge of the fort and stare with fascination as other children, mostly younger than I, played with their friends or parents. I wanted to join in, but I always chickened out before I approached them. Somehow I knew I did not fit in.
    I always stayed at the park until I could no longer suppress my growling stomach. Then I’d hop on my bike and casually pedal up the street to Lilian’s home. As a habit, whenever I’d burst through the front door, I’d suck in my breath and then scream, “I’m back!” Lilian always answered my call, but one day she did not reply. I skipped up the stairs and ran into the kitchen.
    I whirled around when I heard someone behind me. “She ain’t here, runt, ” Larry Jr was in one of his usual moods.
    I wanted so badly to tell him off, but I bit my lip and stared down at the floor, acting timid, and nodded my head without looking up, indicating he had won. As I tried to scoot past him so I could go to my room and wait for Lilian, he blocked my path. Without warning he seized my arm.
    “Where’s Momma’s little boy going?” he whined, as he tightened his grasp.
    I shot a look of hate into his eyes as I tried to squirm out of his grasp. “Hey, man … let go!” I exclaimed.
    “Yeah, Larr … Larry, jus … just let … ah … let the kid … go, ” Chris stuttered. I turned my head upward to Chris, one of my other foster brothers. I was surprised to see him because he usually stayed downstairs in his room.
    Larry }r maintained his grip on my arm, but I could tell by his snide expression that he was going to turn his attention toward Chris. He gave me a final squeeze before shoving me aside. “Da … da … what does the retard want? Shouldn’t the retard be hiding in his little room?” Larry said mockingly.
    Chris was the first person I had known who had cerebral palsy. I could see the pain in his eyes. I knew what it was like to be ridiculed, and I hated it. I also knew Larry’s sole pleasure was to hurt Chris’s feelings. Chris inched his way toward Larry until he stood toe to toe in front of Larry’s face. Larry fluttered his eyebrows as he cocked his right arm up and back. I could almost imagine Larry striking Chris and smashing his teeth. Without thinking I yelled, “No! Stop it! Just stop it!”
    Larry Jr swung his arm toward Chris, but at the last moment he brushed his hand through his hair. “Psych!” Larry sneered. “Hah! It doesn’t take much to fool a couple of morons, does it?”
    I could feel my body temperature rise. “Go to hell!” I yelled.
    Larry’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, so Momma’s little boy has a mouth. I’m 5000 scared. I tell you what, runt, ” Larry snarled, as he pushed me against the kitchen countertop, “Why don’t you make me?”
    I knew by the size of him that he could snap me like a twig. I didn’t care. “Back off, man, ” I blurted. “I’m tired of you. Just because you’re older and bigger … that doesn’t give you the right to treat us that way, does it? How would you like it if someone picked on you?”
    For a moment Larry seemed to be in a daze. Then he shook his head clear. “And who do you think you are – Dr Spock?” I stopped for a second, thinking of what Larry had just said.
Spock? Did he mean the Vulcan dude from
Star Trek? I asked myself.
    “If I were you, ” Larry continued, “I’d stick to my own business and ride my little bicycle. Otherwise, ” he added with a wide grin, “I might use your little face to mop the floor.”
    I lost control. I wanted to climb up his legs and beat his face. I ran up to Larry. “I’m tired of taking crap from guys like you. You … you … butt head! You think you’re so big. You’re a creep … a bully. You ain’t … you ain’t shit. You’re so tough, aren’t you? Like it really takes a tough guy to pick on someone like Chris. You wanna take a punch? Okay, come on, do it! Show me what you got. Come on tough guy! Well … ?”
    I could feel my fingers coil. I knew that what I was doing was wrong,