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Anthony Jackson
Dr. Derek Lowe
EH 101, Paper 1
5 February, 2016
Understanding the Real Backpack Backstabber
My sentence consisted of fifteen days of slave labor and solitary confinement. If I
wasn’t outside doing backbreaking work I was in my bedroom staring at the walls all the
time thinking about what happened. I never wanted to see that backstabbing jerk Jeffery
again, and I sure as heck didn’t want to see his psycho lying mama. Now I’ve got the
whole dang neighborhood thinking I’m going to either steal their Super Nintendo or stick
a switchblade in their gut. Now I’ll never be able to show my face in public again, all
because one little coward couldn’t stick to the plan.
I was a good student in Mrs. Caballero’s 4th grade class. I did my homework,
class work, and for the most part I passed my tests. I was never the class clown, my
docket was clean, and I was going to keep it that way, at least I thought I was. Every
morning before school I would walk across the wet grass to my little cousin’s house.
One particular morning while walking over, something shiny caught my attention. On
the ground was a silver plated Case folding pocket knife. It was awesome because I had
always wanted one. I reached down and picked it up, shoved it into my pocket and
continued on, unmindful of the knife.
When we arrived at school my stomach was growling, reminding me that I hadn’t
eaten breakfast yet. As my buddy Jeffery and I walked into the cafeteria the smell of
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French toast sticks welcomed us in the door. As we stood in line to pay for our food I
was digging in my pockets for some change, and I could feel the checkout lunch lady
getting impatient with me for taking so long. Suddenly a cold chill ran down my spine. I
realized that what I had in my pocket was something that could grant me a trip to the
principal’s office or worse. As I discreetly pulled the object from my pocket to get to my
money I felt someone was watching me. It was Colton, the boy from down the street. He
had his eyes fixed on my hand. There were already hard feelings between us from a time
a few years earlier when his dad had poisoned our dog and in return my dad nearly beat
him to death. There was no doubt in my mind of what Colton was about to do. He
rushed over to the nearest teacher to promptly tell her what was in my possession. As an
act of desperation, I stowed the treasure away in Jeffery’s book bag, and I quietly told
him to just casually walk away.
As the teacher and her informant were making their way in my direction, a sigh of
relief came over me. “It’s over.” I thought to myself. “They won’t find it now.” The
teacher aggressively grabbed my shirt and started her interrogation. “Where is the
knife?” she said. “What knife?” I asked with a slight smirk. Then, to my horror, here
comes Jeffery holding his back pack out to the teacher, saying exactly what I had wished
he wouldn’t. “He put it in my book bag,” he said, leaning his head in my direction. My
gut sank as if I had just swallowed a chunk of lead. My well executed plan had just
backfired. A feeling of betrayal had began to set in as I looked over at Jeffery while he
refused to make eye contact with me. Knowing that I was toast anyway I had half a mind
to knock his head off right there, but I resisted.
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On the short journey to the principal’s office, I remember thinking about how
tightly she was gripping my arm, as if I would flee the scene. In the back of my mind I
could only think of what awaited me at home if this went badly. About a bus length
behind, Jeffery accompanied the teacher and me to Mrs. Adam’s office. There was a look
of shock on her face when she saw me being dragged through her door. Instantly I tried to
put on an innocent and confused look to help my case.
Of course I tried to lie my way out of it, but it must have been all over my face,
because Mrs. Adams wasn’t buying it. Little did I know that the teacher had already
called both of our parents and they were on their way to the school. As Jeffery’s mom
entered the building she had a look of panic on her face. That look was no surprise to me;
actually, it was one I had become accustomed to. Jeffery lived on the next road over, and
when I would come over to Jeffery’s house to play she would watch us the whole time
and she would freak out every time something happened to Jeffery. God forbid he should
fall off the swing or his skateboard and scrape his knee a little. Since Jeffery wasn’t
allowed to come to my house, or anybody’s house for that matter, I would ask him if he
wanted to wrestle or play hide and seek or anything fun. Without hesitation I would
always get the same response: “I can’t.” So about the only thing we did was play Donkey
Kong on the Nintendo 64.
The principal’s door eased open and Jeffery and his mom came walking out, her
arm around him and her evil eyes on me as if I had just beaten her son within an inch of
his life, which I had considered. My mom and I entered the office, sat down, and the
whole time I was thinking, “I am going to die before the sun sets.” Mrs. Adams
instructed me to tell my mom what had happened. I cleared my throat and started trying
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to piece together the jumbled bits of the story I had told. There were so many lies mixed
with a little bit of truth that I could barely remember the difference between the two.
When I finished the principal started telling my mom how her talk with Jeffery’s
mom had gone, and how his mom thought I was a bad influence on her son. According to
her, I used to bring stolen Nintendo games, tape players, and other merchandise over in
hopes to sell them to Jeffery. “What? She’s crazy!” I said aloud. “Anthony Wayne!” my
mom said, hushing me from embarrassing her any further. Now all of a sudden in one
day I’m a criminal, in possession of a knife and accused of previously selling stolen
property. What a great day. I’m not sure of the reasons behind her lies, other than that
she wanted to protect her son from any consequences. However, her lies were not
helping my situation at all. Although she said all those things, my mom looked down at
me and gave me a look of assurance that she didn’t believe the lady’s accusations. I
guess my mom knew that lady was the “neighborhood nut.” Even though I was in a ton
of trouble, it was comforting to have my mom there with me.
The ride home was very quiet, but I guess it was the calm before the storm. I
knew what awaited me when I got home: there would probably be a few choice words,
some hands in the air, and maybe a belt involved as well, but that wasn’t what was
bothering me. I was thinking about how sorry Jeffery was for turning his back on me,
remembering how I’d always been a good friend to him. “Why would he do this to me?”
I thought.
Fifteen days without Looney Tunes I sat in my room and constantly replayed the
events of that day in my mind, but then I tried something different. I tried replaying them
through the eyes of Jeffery, and the more I did that the more I began to have a different
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outlook on those series of events. The more I thought about the betrayal in detail, the less
angry I became with Jeffery. Maybe he was thinking of some of those consequences as
he was walking away with the knife, and it became too much for him to handle. Maybe
he pictured how his mother would react if he got caught and it caused him to crack. I
began to believe that I was the not so loyal friend for even putting him in that position.
Maybe I was the one who betrayed him. It wasn’t his fault at all; it was entirely my fault.
After I thought about what Jeffery had to put up with on a daily basis, his mom bird
dogging him and dictating his every move, I began to feel deeply sorry for him. Don’t
get me wrong, I got my butt tore up, but I didn’t have to walk on eggshells like he did. I
sure wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.
After my two-week sentence had come to a close, I got on the school bus to go
back to school, and I noticed that Jeffery was still avoiding eye contact with me. So with
a nervous stomach I approached him and said, “What’s up, Jeffery?” and with a surprised
look and a trembling voice he said, “You’re not mad?” I said, “Nah man, it wasn’t your
fault.” I watched as he breathed a sigh of relief and a smile came over his face. He began
to tell me of how he hadn’t stopped thinking of that day, and how he was embarrassed
about his and his mother’s actions. He was relieved to hear that I didn’t blame him for
what had happened. Even though his crazy mom wouldn’t allow me at his house, we
were friends from that day on.