It was not long until I saw the kid who had incinerated the ant again.Of course you couldn't keep me out of the anthill.I was there everyday that it didn't rain,or that we were not staying up the street at the sitters.And I'm guessing that this kid too Crandall Street to school nearly every day.Sometimes he would be in a big rush,because I suppose he was l;ate.Other times he'd stop to chat,at least for a few minutes.I was seeing him a lot,but I really wasn't getting to know him all that well.
At five years old,I thought I knew kids fairly well.At least the ones I played with all the time.We all liked to play cowboys and Indians,and,of course nobody wanted to be Indians.And we played war,and,guess what?Nobody wanted to be Germans either.But for the most part the kids I hung out with were fair,and took turns in our games.Most kids had fathers who came home just before it was time to eat in the evening,and a good many had mothers who were home all of the time.So children seemed to be a fairly like-minded lot as far as I could see.Of course there were the French children,and they spoke a language that was different than what my friends and I spoke, but we could play reasonably well with those kids too.There was a bit of rivalry at times,but usually,things worked out well. The older kids I had a harder time trying to figure out, but I just thought that it was because they were older.But this kid who kept stopping by the anthill was something different.He wasn't really that much older than I was,though I don't believe he was in first grade.The whole thing is, this guy just had way too many moving parts. I knew that almost right away, but that doesn't mean I was anywhere close to knowing what was going on in his head.
One day,while I was playing in the anthill he happened along while I was digging with these two Tonka trucks I had.One was a gravel truck, the other a front end loader.So when this kid came along,.he asked if he could push the dump truck.I told him I guessed it would be alright,so he pushed it along in the anthill for a bit.The thing was though,he wasn't really playing with me the way some of the kids my own age did.He was just playing by himself,and I was just sort of there.He wasn't paying me much attention.The other thing I noticed about him was that he didn't seem to like the dirt.His clothes were always clean when I saw him,and he looked as though he'd just stepped out of a bathtub.And I didn't know any kids like that, or that could stay that way for very long.So he pushed my truck around a bit,then he said he had to be going.And when he started leaving,he just took my truck along with him-just cradled it under one arm and started up the street.It didn't really occur to me what he was doing, because I'd never really met a thief before. I thought he'd bring it back right after school.My father was out in the garden,and must have seen the whole thing,because he was after the kid in a flash.Not much happened. He just handed the truck to my father,and said he'd forgotten that he'd had it. I'm not certain my father believed him, but he wasn't inclined to be disagreeable with the kid.So I got my truck back and watched the kid go up toward the school.Before he got to the corner,I saw him pull something out of a pocket.I couldn't really tell what he was doing at first,because whatever he did with his hands was out of my view.Then he turned and looked back,and I thought I saw something in his mouth.Could it really be a cigarette? It looked like it, but I'd never seen a kid that small smoking before.But,as I say, this kid was a bit of a mystery to me.
Part of the mystery about this kid was about the way he looked.Not that I'd studied a lot of people, but this guy was quite different.Later on I'd come to believe certain things that could have explained what was going on in his head,perhaps.But perhaps not too.This guy was older than I was.He looked to be maybe seven or eight.He was slim and had skin that was a bit darker than mine.His hair was noticeably longer than most of the boys around too,and it had sort of long,loose curls.Back then,boys were not really supposed to have curly hair.Parents wanted curly haired daughters, but not so much curly haired sons.Boys didn't really like having curly hair much either it seemed.It was kind of like having freckles or a big nose.But this kid had curly,dark hair,and so he was different.His eyes were different too.They were darker than most eyes I'd seen, but the thing about them was that they never quite looked at you all the way, without looking away. And,as I said, he seemed to be cleaner than most of the other boys around.All of this.I think added up to being a bit of a charmer. Beguiling I think is the word for it. Because all things considered, this kid was rather handsome.Some might even say"pretty." The eyes and the dark countenance seemed to effect people, especially some of the mothers around.A lot of people seemed to know this kid too.It could be that he was kind of hard to miss, but I sensed that he had a reputation too.Being known could be a good thing, but I'm not certain it was with this kid.I'm not certain everyone liked him.In fact, I was sure some people did not.As for me, Either way,his attitude seemed to say he didn't really care what anyone thought.He would just go about doing whatever was in his head anyway,be that smoking,or burning up living creatures,or pulling the fire alarm.In any event, no matter what it was he was doing,he didn't seem mean at all.Not even when he burned up the ant.I knew that doing things like that was considered mean, but I just didn't think of this kid as actually being mean.In fact, he seemed rather captivating and charismatic.He could do things that other kids could not, and you didn't really want to question it.It was as though a bad thing wasn't really bad when he did it.Clearly I still had a lot to learn about people.
At five years old,I thought I knew kids fairly well.At least the ones I played with all the time.We all liked to play cowboys and Indians,and,of course nobody wanted to be Indians.And we played war,and,guess what?Nobody wanted to be Germans either.But for the most part the kids I hung out with were fair,and took turns in our games.Most kids had fathers who came home just before it was time to eat in the evening,and a good many had mothers who were home all of the time.So children seemed to be a fairly like-minded lot as far as I could see.Of course there were the French children,and they spoke a language that was different than what my friends and I spoke, but we could play reasonably well with those kids too.There was a bit of rivalry at times,but usually,things worked out well. The older kids I had a harder time trying to figure out, but I just thought that it was because they were older.But this kid who kept stopping by the anthill was something different.He wasn't really that much older than I was,though I don't believe he was in first grade.The whole thing is, this guy just had way too many moving parts. I knew that almost right away, but that doesn't mean I was anywhere close to knowing what was going on in his head.
One day,while I was playing in the anthill he happened along while I was digging with these two Tonka trucks I had.One was a gravel truck, the other a front end loader.So when this kid came along,.he asked if he could push the dump truck.I told him I guessed it would be alright,so he pushed it along in the anthill for a bit.The thing was though,he wasn't really playing with me the way some of the kids my own age did.He was just playing by himself,and I was just sort of there.He wasn't paying me much attention.The other thing I noticed about him was that he didn't seem to like the dirt.His clothes were always clean when I saw him,and he looked as though he'd just stepped out of a bathtub.And I didn't know any kids like that, or that could stay that way for very long.So he pushed my truck around a bit,then he said he had to be going.And when he started leaving,he just took my truck along with him-just cradled it under one arm and started up the street.It didn't really occur to me what he was doing, because I'd never really met a thief before. I thought he'd bring it back right after school.My father was out in the garden,and must have seen the whole thing,because he was after the kid in a flash.Not much happened. He just handed the truck to my father,and said he'd forgotten that he'd had it. I'm not certain my father believed him, but he wasn't inclined to be disagreeable with the kid.So I got my truck back and watched the kid go up toward the school.Before he got to the corner,I saw him pull something out of a pocket.I couldn't really tell what he was doing at first,because whatever he did with his hands was out of my view.Then he turned and looked back,and I thought I saw something in his mouth.Could it really be a cigarette? It looked like it, but I'd never seen a kid that small smoking before.But,as I say, this kid was a bit of a mystery to me.
Part of the mystery about this kid was about the way he looked.Not that I'd studied a lot of people, but this guy was quite different.Later on I'd come to believe certain things that could have explained what was going on in his head,perhaps.But perhaps not too.This guy was older than I was.He looked to be maybe seven or eight.He was slim and had skin that was a bit darker than mine.His hair was noticeably longer than most of the boys around too,and it had sort of long,loose curls.Back then,boys were not really supposed to have curly hair.Parents wanted curly haired daughters, but not so much curly haired sons.Boys didn't really like having curly hair much either it seemed.It was kind of like having freckles or a big nose.But this kid had curly,dark hair,and so he was different.His eyes were different too.They were darker than most eyes I'd seen, but the thing about them was that they never quite looked at you all the way, without looking away. And,as I said, he seemed to be cleaner than most of the other boys around.All of this.I think added up to being a bit of a charmer. Beguiling I think is the word for it. Because all things considered, this kid was rather handsome.Some might even say"pretty." The eyes and the dark countenance seemed to effect people, especially some of the mothers around.A lot of people seemed to know this kid too.It could be that he was kind of hard to miss, but I sensed that he had a reputation too.Being known could be a good thing, but I'm not certain it was with this kid.I'm not certain everyone liked him.In fact, I was sure some people did not.As for me, Either way,his attitude seemed to say he didn't really care what anyone thought.He would just go about doing whatever was in his head anyway,be that smoking,or burning up living creatures,or pulling the fire alarm.In any event, no matter what it was he was doing,he didn't seem mean at all.Not even when he burned up the ant.I knew that doing things like that was considered mean, but I just didn't think of this kid as actually being mean.In fact, he seemed rather captivating and charismatic.He could do things that other kids could not, and you didn't really want to question it.It was as though a bad thing wasn't really bad when he did it.Clearly I still had a lot to learn about people.
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