Memories 7: Hollering Back

It was evening. We were three. It couldn’t have been that late because we were young enough that our parents wouldn’t have allowed us to stay out too long. However, one of the three of us was my sister and the other was her closest friend. Since Sis was nearly two years older and one year ahead in school and we were together, our parents might have allowed us out for an hour or so later than usual. In any case, it was dark.

We were walking along one of the main roads in town. There wasn’t one big shopping street in town. Instead, there were three or four small areas and a couple of main roads that ran through the town connecting it to the neighboring towns. The area we were near was an intersection with shops going a block in each direction and no further. There was the usual. A post office. A gas station. Drug store, bank, liquor store, super market, candy store, ice cream parlor, coffee shop and a Chinese restaurant. This was long before cheap Chinese restaurants on every corner and the restaurant was a fancy place that served very, very Americanized food. We were in a very tame and very familiar place, perhaps five minutes’ walk from our house. My sister’s friend lived on the next block.

I can still remember exactly where we were but I can’t remember why we were there. The strip of stores on that particular block was set back from the street with a small parking lot in between. There was a strip of sidewalk between the parking lot and the road. We must have been going from point A to point B because there was no other reason to be on that strip of sidewalk. My sister had a friend who lived around the corner. Perhaps we had been there. Perhaps we had run an errand for our parents. We were probably heading home.

My sister’s friend was carrying a suede purse, a clutch bag with a bamboo closure that had become a source of irritation for my sister who had bought the very same purse the week before. So had I, but in a different color and at my sister’s suggestion. It was my first purse, but I wasn’t carrying it that night. We were walking on the right hand side of the road, in the direction of traffic. A car came by. Pale blue, I think, although perhaps it was white. It was large American car probably from the early seventies, the kind teenagers get as hand-me-downs from older relatives. The car slowed so that it was going at the same speed as we were. A boy, a teenager himself but much older than we were, leaned out the window.

“Hey girls, where you going?”

My sister’s friend said under her breath. “Ignore them and they’ll go away.”

“Do you want to come for a ride?”

She clutched her clutch more tightly and whispered, “Ignore them.”

Another car came from behind and the boys were forced to resume a normal speed and drive away. We all breathed a sigh of relief.

A minute later, the car came from behind us again. They must have gone around the block. It wasn’t a large block. It would only have taken a minute.

They said something and we ignored them. They said something again and we ignored them some more. It was starting to get a little scary. Finally, one of them said, “Hey, do you want to suck my dick?”

My sister, my bossy, popular older sister, wheeled around. She put her hand on her hip, tossed back her hair and stuck out her chin. “Yeah, well, lick my clit!”

Just like that, the car took off as fast as it could.

Lesson learned: When boys try to scare you with crude words, show them that you’re not scared. Nine times out of ten, it works. The tenth time, you’re in trouble, but you would probably have been in trouble anyway.