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Vengance and Victory: A Memory From My Memory
October 1, 1999
Sunny down the street got a pogo stick for no reason today. For no reason. It’s like his parents said, “Even though you are the scum of this planet we call Earth, we think you’re a great kid. Here’s a pogo!”
And it’s not like he’s modest about it either. He can’t just walk over to play with us, he has to pogo. I can hear the zing of the spring from a mile away. It sounds like every single kid in China suddenly decided to buy a spring bed and leap onto it all at the same time; over and over. I swear it’s a conspiracy.
Well, anyway, my birthday is in 14 days and I am really excited except for my mom asked me what I wanted and I said I didn’t know. What kind of kid am I? that doesn’t know what she wants for her birthday. It is the one day a year where I can ask for anything that I want, no matter how crazy or cooky it makes me sound, and it’s still ok. Oh well.
Ryan accidentally punched Sunny in the nose when Sunny called me lame. It was like seeing a waterfall for the first time. It was beautiful.
Ryan isn’t in trouble though.
Dad is proud. Mom is worried. And I’m confused because I still don’t know what to ask for for my birthday.
October 7, 1999
Today I tripped Sunny on his pogo when he was pouncing by my territory. He spit on me so I kicked him.
Ryan and I invented this fantastic thing. Even though it was all my idea I still have to give him credit because he’s my little brother.
Well, anyway, we took the wheels off my old skates, which took like 7 hours, and attached them to the bottom of an very large bucket and then glued a kite on top of it. I crashed it though, when the wind picked up I went too fast and ran straight into Mrs. Clayton’s tree. Good thing I was wearing my helmet.
I’ve been wearing my helmet for about 7 months now. I haven’t taken it off once!
I just don’t want to get hit by a car.
Mrs. Roper, my teacher, showed us a movie about kids on their bikes that got hit by cars. The only ones that lived were the ones that wore their helmets. That’s why I always wear mine. I take it off to shower though.
I think I figured out what I want for my birthday, but I don’t want to say it yet in case it isn’t really what I want.
October 14, 1999
I told Ryan what I want. I can trust him to tell mom because he is a little turd and tells mom everything I say.
I probably won’t be able to sleep tonight because I am so excited!
My old helmet was really starting to smell bad to other people so my dad got me a new one. This one isn’t as cool yet though because the last one had Disney stickers all over it and a big ‘Get Out of My Way’ sticker on the front. So now I have to buy all new stickers.
Parents are so insensitive.
I want to tell you what I want for my birthday, but I’m scarred that if I say it out loud to no one in particular I surely will not get it. And I’ll feel like a real dumb bum.
I want a pogo stick!
If I don’t get what I asked for, I blame you.
October 15, 1999
It was the best day ever. I had chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate ice cream. I love chocolate.
Dad was home and we went to the park and he bought me a kite and I fell off the monkey bars and had to go to the hospital because I broke my arm. But now I have this extreme cast on my arm that makes me look tough. The best thing is that I won’t have to take a shower for about a month!
Grandma got me stickers and I stuck them on my new helmet. I even had enough left over to cover my entire cast.
And….I GOT A POGO STICK!
It was so much fun.
Pogo sticks are actually a lot harder to master than I thought.
I was innocently practicing jumping on my brand new pogo stick when I heard a most horrifying sound. It was his sound. It had been burned into my ears only a week earlier when he refused to give it up. Not only was it the normal, extremely annoying Sunny, it was the extremely annoying Sunny on his pogo stick bouncing in my direction.
“So I see you broke your arm,” he hissed.
“So I see you broke your face,” I shot back, pointing to his nose that had been broken by my brother’s heroic right hook two weeks ago. I laughed a little but had to compose myself so if he spit on me again I could kick him.
“Why do you have a pogo?” he asked, heartbroken that he wasn’t the only one on the block with one anymore.
“For a better reason than you do.”
“I bet that I can bounce longer on my pogo than you can on yours,” he sneered.
“I bet you can’t.”
And we were off. Every kid in the neighborhood was in my driveway, making bets and sharing their own various pogo strategies.
Ten minutes in. Why did I agree to this? He has had so much longer to practice than I have and he can use both his arms. He will surely win.
Twenty minutes. He looks worried. The crowd has started to clear. Only my brother remains. I couldn’t give up. Not with my brother watching me, looking up to me. I had to be a big sister and beat my little brother’s archenemy. I was going to win.
Thirty minutes. My arm aches with every jump. Every landing my knees want to buckle and just give up. But they don’t. Sunny is failing. Terribly. His mom had called him in to dinner five minutes ago and I could tell it was bothering him to put his good kid charade off to attempt to beat me.
“SUNNY!” his mom called again, a little more perturbed than usual.
“I have to go,” he said.
“Fine,” I said, “run home to your mommy.” He turned. Still on his pogo and headed home.
I however, did not get off mine. I knew his tricks. And I knew his mom would make him get off the pogo before he went into her expensive house. I was right.
His mom was in the driveway, arms folded as he finally stepped down. I made sure that his feet were securely on the pavement before I finally commenced.
There was a roar from a crowd that wasn’t there. Adrenaline pumped through my body as my brother rushed to give me a running hug. Triumph.
“Let’s go inside,” I told my brother as he looked into my eyes with respect for the first time. Triumph.