right, I think I was trying to remember how to get home from here. Figured on walking, I suppose."
"How did you wind up getting home?"
"I wound up asking a security officer for directions to my street. He asked where my parents were. When I told him I was alone, he asked if I'd wait for him to write down directions. But rather than do that, he called the police to escort me home. I guess the idea of a ten-year-old walking the streets in the dark was unsettling to him."
We followed Herbie a ways down the path past the kiddie rides and the game kiosks. When we neared the restrooms, I figured it was time to go. "Well, we've seen what I brought us here for," I said. "Should we head back?"
Doc was still watching Herbie. "Not just yet," he said. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to watch him for a few more minutes."
I wasn't really sure what he expected to see, but I didn't question the request. We followed Herbie back to the carnival entrance. He stopped just a few feet before the ticket booth, staring at something on the ground. It looked like a small wad of money bound by a silver metal clip.
I had completely forgotten about this.
Herbie picked up the cash and looked around. Doc and I acted like we were just chatting. He didn't seem to notice us any more than the rest of the people around him. Once he felt that no one was watching, he removed the clip and counted the money. It was somewhere around thirty or forty dollars if I remember right. After counting, he rolled the money back up and put it back in the clip.
"What is that?" Doc asked me. "I can't see too clearly from here."
"Lost money," I said. "Someone dropped it."
Herbie was looking around again. No one paid any attention to him. No one tried to claim the money. It was his for the taking.
"How much was it?" Doc asked.
"Somewhere around thirty, I believe."
"That's a nice amount of money for a child that age," Doc said with a smile. "He could go on all the rides at least once with that. Maybe even get a soda or a hot dog."
I shook my head. "He won't." After a moment, Herbie wrapped the money in his fist and walked through the exit. We followed him along the sidewalk toward the parking lot.
Doc still wanted to know what was going to happen to the money. "Did you use it to help your family? Thirty dollars could help buy some groceries."
"No, nothing quite so noble," I told him.
Near the gate that led to the parking lot, a man was explaining something to another security officer. He seemed to be quite distressed, waving his hands about and pointing to his pockets. The conversation became audible as Herbie approached.
"No, I checked my pockets a dozen times," the man was saying. "Are you sure no one turned any money in? Don't you have a lost and found or something?"
The officer shook his head with an expression of resignation. "Unfortunately, most people aren't about to hand over cash they find. There's no proof of ownership, so anyone could say it belonged to them."
For some reason, the man almost looked as though he was going to cry. "This is unbelievable. I can't believe this is happening to me now. Of all the times, not now!"
The officer spoke with compassion. "I'm very sorry, Sir. But if someone does turn it in, we'll let you know right away."
Herbie had stopped walking. He was standing not ten feet beyond the gate, looking back at the man. So that we didn't look suspicious, Doc and I kept walking into the parking lot and approached one of the aeromobiles to give the appearance that we were leaving.
"Excuse me," I heard Herbie say. I couldn't resist looking back. "Is this yours?" he asked the man, holding up the bundle of money.
The stranger's face filled with such joy that his broad smile seemed to go from ear to ear. "Where did you find that?!" he shouted, dropping to his knees in front of Herbie. "Yes, that's mine! It was the only cash I had on me!"
Herbie handed over the money with a shy smile. "It was on the ground."
"Young man, you have no idea what you've done for me. Thank you so much!" Before Herbie could stop him, the man gave him a big hug. Then he thanked the security officer and headed off at a brisk walk.
"Do you know the way to Lockhardt Street?" Herbie asked the officer.
He seemed caught off-guard by the question. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Doc pulled on my sleeve. "Come on, I'm curious about something." He led me away from Herbie and into the parking lot.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"I want to know why that money was so important," Doc told me. "It seemed more than just lost money, don't you think? His reaction was too . . . dramatic for that. Once you're sure no one is looking, activate your invisibility belt."
I did as I was told. There weren't many people nearby. A few were sitting at a picnic bench a hundred or so yards away, and another group was walking toward the carnival entrance. They weren't looking anywhere near us. Then, of course, there was the man who lost his money, but he had his back to us a good twenty paces ahead. Doc suddenly vanished from sight. Then I did, too.
"Let's get closer," he whispered. I heard his footsteps quicken alongside mine, and pretty soon we were right behind the man. He had pulled out his earphone and was making a call.
"Room 913, please," he said. A few moments passed before he spoke again. "Judy? It's Greg. I'm on my way. Yes, I found it. Actually, a little boy found it. Can you believe that? Yes, what's the latest? Okay, but she's out of surgery? Well, that's some good news. Will she recover? I see. Yes, I understand. Of course. I'm on my way. Thanks, I'll talk to you as soon as I get a cab. I hope it's not more than thirty-five dollars. It's all I have. Right. I'll talk to you soon."
He removed the earpiece for a moment and looked back toward the carnival. He spoke softly, almost inaudible. "You have no idea what you did for me tonight, kid. Thank God you were there." He brought up the earphone's holographic dialpad and typed in a few numbers before returning the device to his ear. After a moment, he turned and rushed toward the far end of the parking lot. The last thing I heard him say was, "Yes, I need a cab right away."
I moved to follow, but I felt Doc grab my arm. "That's all. I'm finished here if you are."
"What was that all about?" I asked.
His voice again betrayed his smile. "It's like I said. Building blocks."
Thursday – Day 4
Middle school was where the person I am today began to take shape. While I had trouble with bullies in elementary school, it wasn't anything like the trials that came with middle school. Those three years taught me that growing up also meant dumbing down, degrading others, and displaying an overall lack of maturity. Odd, considering that the whole process of adolescence was supposed to develop maturity. But that's not what I saw from the students around me. And for the first year or so, that's not how I acted, either.
Rumors in middle school were so much more than "Eww, Jimmy farted!" as it had been in previous years. Name-calling escalated far beyond "You're a poop head." These kids got downright dirty. The insults got harsher, the rumors got meaner, and the physical abuse was downright criminal. Literally, in some cases. I was watching the children that had shared my classroom for the previous six years as they attempted to behave in a manner that they believed made them more "grown up." And for the better portion of sixth grade, I was a part of it.
So that's what Doc wanted to see today. I'll be the first to admit that I was no angel when it came to the treatment of classmates. I don't think I was as bad as a lot of the bullies I encountered, but I certainly knew how to dish out the abuse at times. Doc had previously suggested that I was lashing out in response to the negative treatment I received from my peers. No offense meant to Doc, but I didn't need a psychiatrist to tell me that.
I've mentioned before that I made the conscious decision during my middle school years to treat people better by showing God's love. But that didn't happen until se
venth grade. In sixth grade, I was a bit of a terror to a number of different people. It's not something I like to admit about myself, but it's not something I'm going to lie about either. Was it right of me? Of course not. I know that. I think I knew that then, too. But I was trying to defend myself. As much as I wanted to distance myself from my parents' behavior, and as much as I had the unending desire to be loved, there was a part of me that wondered if I was just being silly in expecting such things from the world.
So, given that all I knew was what I learned both at home and in school, what more could've been expected?
I know, I'm probably just trying to rationalize my bad behavior to some sort of acceptable level in my own mind. There is no excuse for it. I know it. I understand it. That's why I've tried so hard to be a better person ever since then.
Anyway, today's goal was to explore some of the less noble things I did to my fellow students. Doc wanted me to see the effects that my teasing and harassment had on others. Needless to say, I dreaded it.
But before I describe the events that took place today, I want to at least give you an idea of why I did the things I did during this particular memory.
Going into middle school, I wasn't exactly a popular guy. But at the same time, I wasn't yet at the bottom of the ladder, either. Nick and Aaron were two boys that I considered to be friends, and a few other kids were willing to talk to me even though they didn't