Hmm...this one feels a little weak. On the other hand, it's semi-autobiographical, unlike last week's time travel tale.

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You Can't Trust Adults

I realized for the first time that you can't trust adults when I was nine years old, at Ryan Robinson's birthday party. Don't get me wrong. I'd seen villains on TV. I knew you weren't supposed to talk to strangers, that you were should watch out for creeps in white vans. But other than that, you were supposed to trust adults. Respect your elders. Listen to your teachers. If an older kid tried to get you to try dope, you were supposed to go and tell and adult.

Ryan Robinson was one of those kids where for his birthday, every kid in the class got a fancy invite to his party. He also cheated at marbles.

The highlight of the party was his totally rad birthday cake. Ryan's mom had made a three-dimensional cake that was shaped like a race car. My birthday cakes were always bought at the grocery store. But what's more, it was a money cake. Mrs. Robinson had baked coins into the cake and you got to keep whatever was in your piece. Most of them were quarters, but she told us there was one silver dollar somewhere in the cake. I wonder if money cakes are still legal? Choking hazard. Or if they were an Eighties thing, like lawn darts.

There was a game to determine who would get to pick first; pin the tail on the donkey or something. I won, though, and I didn't even have to pause to think about it.

"I want the wheel!" and pointed to the driver-side front wheel. I don't know why. I think I was curious to find out if the black icing for the tire tasted like licorice.

"Oh sweetie, why don't I cut you a piece from the back? There's more icing."

I can't remember if Ryan's mom was pretty. In my memory she looks like the Wicked Witch of the West, but that's probably not entirely accurate.

"No, no, I want the wheel." I pointed again.

"Alright then."

She reached across the cake with her knife and sliced off the passenger side wheel.

"I wanted the other one," I said.

"Oh well this one is just the same."

"Stop being a baby," Ryan piped in.

I dug into my piece with my plastic fork and found a quarter wrapped in wax paper. The other kids got their turns and when it came to Ryan, he pointed at the wheel — my wheel — with a giant, stupid grin on his face.

When he proudly revealed a shiny silver dollar, I realized the whole thing had been set up. Rigged. I mean, it was Ryan's birthday, but then why did his mom make it sound like we had a chance of getting the silver dollar?

The rest of the stupid party, my throat was thick and I had to fight back tears. That evening, after supper, I bike up to the grocery store and spent several weeks of saved allowance on my revenge.

That night I set my alarm clock for six and slipped out of the house before my parents woke up. I rode over to the park behind the Robinson's and snuck through their yard along the hedges. The window into their garage wasn't locked but it didn't open very wide. An adult wouldn't have fit, but my nine year old self did. I crawled in and stepped onto Mr. Robinson's work bench, knocking a screwdriver to the floor with a clang. I froze for a minute but no one came running and shouting to catch me so I went on with my mission.

A few weeks before this, I'd overheard my older brother Mark and his friends talking about a practical joke someone played on someone at school.

The Robinson's didn't lock their car doors, I guesses since it was safe in the garage. I opened up my backpack and removed one of the trout I'd bought the previous night and removed it from its newspaper wrapping.

It was a whole trout, and I thought maybe its round eye was glaring at me reproachfully.

"Shut up, stupid fish."

I held it by its tail and slipped it under the driver seat. Then, I opened up the rear door and put the second fish under the back seat. That was the key to the joke, my brother had told his laughing friends. The owner will open his car door, smell the fish and immediately look under the driver seat and find a fish. They wouldn't think to look for a second one and might drive around for a week or two without realizing there was another, wondering why the smell is taking so long to fade.

I was never caught, never accused of anything. But I think Ryan knew. After his birthday party I was never again invited over to his house and we never played marbles again, which suited me fine.

13 responses to "You Can't Trust Adults "

Diana wrote: Friday, 15 Jan 2010 21:55 Haha, at least you didn't throw potatoes at their car when it went past. Stupid rigged cakes!

chris chartrand wrote: Friday, 15 Jan 2010 21:58 That's what you get for cheating at marbles. And what kid wouldn't want the wheel. I hate that family. That is a great joke. ~chris

mazzz_in_Leeds wrote: Saturday, 16 Jan 2010 10:55 Ooooh, nasty! Not the narrator but the horrible Ryan and his even more horrible mother!

Cascade Lily wrote: Saturday, 16 Jan 2010 15:35 LOL. Way to go at finding a way to insert this fantastic...I mean terribly naughty...and classic piece of revenge. I loved 'totally rad' - took me back a ways.

Anton Gully wrote: Saturday, 16 Jan 2010 15:35 It's a well constructed revenge tale but I didn't feel much sympathy for the narrator. He went to a party, got fed and won a quarter. What does he want for nothing? You could have made his tone more calculating to emphasise what a vindictive character he was. Or made Ryan's family do something legitimately nasty that would have justified an act of vengeance. Well written, but I disliked the narrator.

shannon esposito wrote: Saturday, 16 Jan 2010 20:23 Actually, I have to respectfully disagree with Anton. It's hard enough as an adult to feel like you got cheated on purpose, but as a child the emotional response would be ten fold. Especially if this was his first glimse at an adult (who has all the power) playing unfairly. I say good for him. And well told!

Marisa Birns wrote: Saturday, 16 Jan 2010 21:15 Very good first sentence to draw one's curiosity! I don't think the main character could have been more calculating since he didn't go to the party with revenge on his mind. It happened after he was cheated. Though, he could have thought, "Well it is Ryan's birthday so what the heck, let him have the silver dollar." But he was only nine years old. He did pull off a funny revenge. And he doesn't need to be invited to Ryan's anyway. That Ryan is not rad!

Carrie Clevenger wrote: Sunday, 17 Jan 2010 20:33 Well then, this was a strange tale where I didn't know whether to like or scorn the narrator. The coin cakes sound awesome. Why didn't I have coin-cakes? Oh, right. I have reasons. Nitpick: "If an older kid tried to get you to try dope, you were supposed to go and tell and adult." An for And maybe? It was a strong tale but the purpose of the tale was to feel for the narrator, you'll need to push it a bit towards the victim/benevolence side. Thanks for sharing Dana.

CJ wrote: Monday, 18 Jan 2010 09:51 I liked it - who really likes a 9 yr old? They're whiny, vindictive, self-centered and annoying. Well, most of 'em - especially where other kids are concerned. "Kids can be cruel" didn't become a cliche because it's wrong. I thought it rang pretty true.

Chance wrote: Wednesday, 20 Jan 2010 02:35 I am most dissapointed first of all, to hear that your time travelling tale wasn't autobiographical. . . Great serving of revenge in this tale, makes up for the fact

Melissa wrote: Wednesday, 20 Jan 2010 22:04 I burst out laughing at "He also cheated at marbles." Such a seemingly random fact following the other, but one that says a lot about both the narrator and Ryan. (Nice tie to the end as well.) Oh, and this was great, too, about the money cakes disappearing either from being a choking hazard or maybe "they were an Eighties thing, like lawn darts." The humor of the narrator is great. The revenge is wonderful, something I totally could see a kid doing (or at least the kids I knew). Being disillusioned is never fun...it's an ugly type of losing innocence and the "small" thing you've focused on (Ryan's mom's actions here) is actually a really great symbol for much larger issues.

ganymeder wrote: Friday, 22 Jan 2010 19:19 I completely sympathized with the narrator. The point isn't that she still got a quarter and cake, the point is that an adult that she was supposed to trust cheated her in a game she should have won. It was like a lie. Her trust was violated. I don't think she should have done the trick, but then it wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining to read about. :) Also, I hope you don't mind, but I noticed a few typoes. In the first paragraph: >I knew you weren't supposed to talk to strangers, that you were should watch out for creeps in white vans.< Should probably be: I knew that you weren't supposed to talk to strangers, that you should watch out for creeps in white vans. Also, I noticed you changed tense here: >That evening, after supper, I bike up to the grocery store and spent several weeks of saved allowance on my revenge.< It might sound better as: That evening after supper, I biked up to the grocery store to spend several weeks of my allowance for my revenge. I hope you don't think I'm being too presumptious. I don't think the story is weak at all, but it's a powerfully emotional look at a childhood betrayal. Well done.

Dana wrote: Monday, 25 Jan 2010 23:44 Thanks for the comments, ganymeder. Yeah, I'm pretty much the worst proofreader of all time. Every single time I reread one of my stories, I find a typo, which leads me to believe my stories all contain an infinite number of typos :P

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