The kid Down the Street
1993- Henderson, Nevada
There was this kid who lived down the street from me named Steve. I hadn't thought about him for a long time. I was driving home the other day when his face and story entered my mind.
Steve was about the same age as I was; actually, he was a year older. I remember this because he was in high school and I was in eighth grade. Steve’s little brother was a year younger than me. Steve was Filipino and his mother, on the few occasions that I saw her, spoke almost no English, but his dad was white and kind of a nerdy looking fellow.
1993- Henderson, Nevada
There was this kid who lived down the street from me named Steve. I hadn't thought about him for a long time. I was driving home the other day when his face and story entered my mind.
Steve was about the same age as I was; actually, he was a year older. I remember this because he was in high school and I was in eighth grade. Steve’s little brother was a year younger than me. Steve was Filipino and his mother, on the few occasions that I saw her, spoke almost no English, but his dad was white and kind of a nerdy looking fellow.
I remember think about what an odd couple they were.
Their house was more beat up than ours and Steve’s dad's car was an old, blue Honda.
I once asked Steve where his dad worked, to which he replied, "My dad works in a top secret facility at Nellis Air Force Base on the other side of town.
It was true that there was a Nellis Air Force Base, but I was positive then, and am positive now, that Steve’s father did not work there.
The mixture of Steve’s parents made his skin light, not as light as his little brother’s, but light nonetheless His face, though, was very much Filipino.
I didn't hang out with Steve very often, but I did take notice when he began running with a tougher, older crowd.
Pretty soon, loud rap music would blare from his garage. As my family drove by his house, we would see Steve out front with his new friends, all sporting wife-beaters and dickies. They also all wore the same kind of sunglasses that everyone in the neighborhood referred to as “lokes”.
Soon after, my bike went missing from my garage. Someone in the neighborhood said that Steve had taken it, but I dare not go and inquire about it.
I had an older brother who was older and stronger than Steve, a person whom I knew to be as tough as they come; however, he too knew not to mess with Steve’s crowd.
Then quiet.
Without warning, Steve's family suddenly moved away.
Then, I heard it at school. Some kids who were friends with Steve’s little brother told everyone.
They had found Steve’s body in the desert. His hands had been bound behind his back and shot in the back several times. The story was that Steve had attempted to rob a convenience store, and the owners overtook him. They then bound his hands and put him in their trunk, drove him into the desert, shot him, and left his body out there to rot.
His body lay there in the desert for several weeks. It had been bitten and chewed on by all kinds of vultur-isk type of creatures.
I remember watching the news that night, but there was nothing on about it. It was old news by then.
I once asked Steve where his dad worked, to which he replied, "My dad works in a top secret facility at Nellis Air Force Base on the other side of town.
It was true that there was a Nellis Air Force Base, but I was positive then, and am positive now, that Steve’s father did not work there.
The mixture of Steve’s parents made his skin light, not as light as his little brother’s, but light nonetheless His face, though, was very much Filipino.
I didn't hang out with Steve very often, but I did take notice when he began running with a tougher, older crowd.
Pretty soon, loud rap music would blare from his garage. As my family drove by his house, we would see Steve out front with his new friends, all sporting wife-beaters and dickies. They also all wore the same kind of sunglasses that everyone in the neighborhood referred to as “lokes”.
Soon after, my bike went missing from my garage. Someone in the neighborhood said that Steve had taken it, but I dare not go and inquire about it.
I had an older brother who was older and stronger than Steve, a person whom I knew to be as tough as they come; however, he too knew not to mess with Steve’s crowd.
Then quiet.
Without warning, Steve's family suddenly moved away.
Then, I heard it at school. Some kids who were friends with Steve’s little brother told everyone.
They had found Steve’s body in the desert. His hands had been bound behind his back and shot in the back several times. The story was that Steve had attempted to rob a convenience store, and the owners overtook him. They then bound his hands and put him in their trunk, drove him into the desert, shot him, and left his body out there to rot.
His body lay there in the desert for several weeks. It had been bitten and chewed on by all kinds of vultur-isk type of creatures.
I remember watching the news that night, but there was nothing on about it. It was old news by then.
Old news.
Thank you to Mr. Hooper’s English class for all you help on this posting, and a very special thanks you to Leanne Wang who was my special guest editor. Leanne you are very talented and I was very impressed by your mad skills.
Thank you to Mr. Hooper’s English class for all you help on this posting, and a very special thanks you to Leanne Wang who was my special guest editor. Leanne you are very talented and I was very impressed by your mad skills.
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