Rhea’s Story. Part 10.

« As the oldest child of five, I used to take my brothers and sister in a wagon ride far from our neighborhood. We had sandwiches for provisions and they had to first swear to secrecy, on pain of death and no future trips.

My parents would have had a heart attack if they knew! We always encountered hostile boys who would challenge us to our right to be in « their » territory.

They would ask, « Where are you going, little girl? »
« Around. » 
« Yeah, around to your own block. »
« Why? » 
« Because we say so. »
« Well we don’t want to. » 
« Well, you have to. »
« Well, you and what army is going to make us? »

This was when the proverbial commodity always hit the fan. At that point we turned the wagon sideways, where I made the little ones crouch behind it and I had it out with the boys. It was usually hand to hand, because I could never throw straight. I knew those boys could throw a rock straight, but not if they were physically disabled. Although I never started one, I never lost a physical fight, and I felt as though I must have come from a race of amazons. But when I became fourteen years old, the boys got seriously bigger than the girls and our fights stopped. »