Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison by T. J. Parsell Read Free Book Online Page A

back before they'd wake up and they'd never know it was gone. And besides, I'd probably have my papers delivered in half the time.
I grabbed the canvas sack from my little red wagon and tossed it onto the passenger seat of the Blue. I didn't want to risk waking them with the sound of the starting engine or the muffler that needed replacing, so like my Dad and Uncle's prank of years before, where they pushed all those cars down their driveways, I slipped the transmission into neutral and gave it a shove. I was wrong about the time it took to deliver my papers. I was done in a third of the time. I could have finished sooner, except that I pulled into each driveway along my route, tossing the paper onto the porch or lawn. It was riskier doing it that way, but since everyone was asleep-no one was the wiser.
Instead of returning the car back when I had finished, I drove around awhile enjoying my newfound freedom. Driving came easily to me. I'd been driving a mini-bike since I was eleven, and now driving a car was way too much fun to have to wait two or three more years till I was old enough for Driver's Ed. Down with the established order!
My sister was in summer school, so I decided to go home and pick her up. "Do you want a ride to school?" I asked, beaming. She hated taking the bus, especially on hot humid mornings, but she struggled to comprehend what I was saying.
"It belongs to the hippies," I said. "They're letting me borrow it."
It was sort of true, I thought. I was just borrowing it, and considering the way they were all passed out, they were in a sense letting me.
It was 7:30 in the morning, and they often slept till noon, but since I wasn't sure when they had crashed, I figured I had until about nine o'clock. Connie didn't have to be at school until 8:30, so we picked up her girlfriends along the way. They were fifteen, and I wished it wasn't so early, so that my friends could see me driving around with three older girls.
We were on the other side of town when I realized how much gas we'd used. I wanted to make sure there was enough in the tank so they wouldn't know I had taken it. But when I pulled into the gas station, I misjudged the right front corner of the car and the bumper caught the edge of the pump. It collapsed rather easily. Too easily, and when I put the car in reverse to back up, I stepped on the gas too hard, squealing the tires, and hit a pick-up truck behind me. Inside the wagon, the girls were screaming so loud, I couldn't hear the screeching and grinding of the ignition as I tried to re-start the engine, even though it was already running. Everyone at the station had stopped, as if frozen in place, and stared at us. I slammed the transmission into park and leapt from the car.

"I'll go call the police," I shouted and quickly ran from the scene.
Two attendants were right on my tail and caught me before I got far. When they brought me back, I noticed Connie and her girlfriends walking off through an adjacent lot.
"Connie!" I screamed. "Please don't leave me!"
"Oh yeah? " She and her friends screamed, flipping me a finger. "You left us!"
I was arrested and brought to the police station, where they took me into the back. They sat me at an empty desk and called my dad. About twenty minutes later, I heard my name mentioned in conversation out at the front desk. I strained to listen to what they were saying. The voices were low and familiar, though not my dad. I couldn't make it out at first, until I heard one of the hippies say, "No. That's OK. We don't want to press charges. He's our paperboy."

     

9
    Prison Transfer
The black and white vans had gold emblems on the two front doors, with round stirrups on each tip of the six-pointed star. It was the official seal of the Wayne County Sheriff. PRISONER TRANSFER, KEEP BACK 500 FEET emblazoned the rear. Inside, two black padded benches ran vertically along each side, with metal hoops on the floor, for the stringing of chains. Six transports were to be filled