It was a dismal, overcast morning as I headed off to school. I had just started second grade. The rain had held back as I approached St Francis Church. It got very dark and suddenly started to rain again so I took shelter under the front doorway of the church. I did not have my raincoat or umbrella for some reason that morning. I guess mom thought the weather was clearing before I left the house. Another kid, a few years older than me also ran for cover in the doorway. We talked about getting wet and possibly being late for school.

The rain really started pouring down so we stayed under the doorway to wait until it let up. It was a bit chilly and I had a jacket but if I got wet I would have to remain in school with soggy (I thought) clothes. I stayed there until after the first and second bell rang. Classes had begun and I was outside still.

The rain finally let up and the sun began to shine through the parting clouds as I decided to leave and head for the school. The kid who was with me said we would get in trouble if we went in now so maybe it would be better if we just played hooky that day. He said his parents were at work so we could go back to his house and wait until school was over. It sounded like a good idea, after all, older was supposed to mean smarter, so we went back to his house.

The kid lived on the same street about half a block down from my place. I would sometimes run into him on the way to school and we would walk together (he once offered me a rotten walnut). I didn’t really know him well but felt comfortable that we would have a good time playing in his house. He had lots of toys and for a few hours, I was having a good time. It was getting a bit uncomfortable, however, because he was acting bossy and deciding what we would do and I had to go along with it.

After we had eaten lunch (mom would make me a sandwich and I would eat in school), I developed a sense of guilt and foreboding, and wanted to leave and go back to school…or maybe home and confess, after all, it was my first offense and I might get off easy. I announced to my friend I was going to leave.

We were sitting at the kitchen table and he got up and went into a counter drawer and pulled out a steak knife. He pointed it at me as told me I wasn’t going anyplace and to sit down. He sat across from me and proceeded to stick the knife through the plastic table cover announcing he would do the same to me if I tried to leave. He said I would have to wait until school let out and then I could go.

The next two hours were terror filled for me as he led me around holding the knife while we continued to play games he wanted to play. I forget what they were entirely. We went to his room, played and then went back to the kitchen where we played some board games at the table. He stuck the knife through the table cover a few more times just to impress me with his ability if I should try to leave.

Three o’clock could not have come fast enough as we went to the front room and peered out the window waiting for the first indication kids were on their way home. Finally, as the kids appeared he said I could leave. He opened the front door and looked left and right and then said, “Okay, now.”

I hurried out the door and headed home wondering if I should say anything at all (he had warned me not to), but I did not know the school had called my mom asking why I wasn’t in class that day. She confronted me when I got home.

To the best of my ability, I explained what happened and how I could not leave and was held prisoner for the day. I don’t think my mom believed me at first and I do not remember the specifics of our conversation although we waited until my father got home and he would decide the course of action and my punishment.

Upon hearing my story, dad decided we would go over after supper and pay a visit to the kid and his parents and settle the question of my defense. I don’t remember too much at all about the confrontation other than my folks repeated my story to the kid’s parents and they did not believe me. They asked the kid who, of course, denied everything (while giving me one of those, “I’ll get you for this” looks). My defense was kind of flimsy, my word against his, until I remembered the tablecloth. I went over to the drawer and pulled out the knife and told them he had run it through the tablecloth several times. They checked, and found the slits which were made. There was dead silence as his parents and mine looked at each other, at the kid, and back at each other in disbelief. I was exonerated.

We left and went home, my parents leaving it up to them what to do with the kid. I never heard anything more about the incident, nor did I ever see that kid around the neighborhood any more. We moved the following year and I never did find out what and if anything happened to that kid, or if my parents followed up at all. Soon, I had forgotten about the incident and my parents never mentioned it after that meeting. I do remember being told about the hazards of playing hooky and getting into trouble like that. I learned my lesson well. I never did it again. I do not remember being punished at home or at school the next day.

What remains until this day, is my aversion to knives. I am very uncomfortable with anything larger or sharper than a butter knife. For a time, I didn’t know why until the incident was recalled years later.

I hope that kid got help.