The Longest Mile

Mark Gerber was one of those kids you could never figure out. One day he was a regular guy, and easy to get along with,the next day back to his old tricks; a worm and a weasel.
One day he decided to walk to school with me, a nice gesture, or so I thought. As we got nearer to the lake, he began telling me how we could get to school a lot faster if we took the shortcut up the path through Trackie’s property and across the ballfields to Helen Avenue.That would get us to Glassboro Road a lot quicker,he told me, and we could cross at Elm for the short block to school.
“No, we better not,” I told him, my parents’ voices at the back of my mind, reminding me to always be on time, always stay on the sidewalk the whole way to school.
He was persistent in that Eddie Haskell way of his; part snake charmer,part con man.
Against my better judgement I gave in to him and agreed to take his so-called shortcut. What could happen? We’re just going to go across the ballfields and up Helen Ave., what could possibly go wrong?
Well instead of crossing the ballfields, he decides to go along the stream telling me it was going to be even faster this way, just follow him and we’d be at school in no time.
I knew it was wrong and I should have turned back, but I kept going forward,following Mark through the soggy ground. The water from the mud was seeping into my shoes, and I began to slip and slide,slowing my progress. I fell once or twice, soiling the knees of my pants. All this time Mark was picking up the pace, crying out for me to hurry up, or else we’d be late.
LATE! No that could not be! I was NEVER late for school. Late was not a part of the Maddox vocabulary. My father would not abide it. I could not,would not be late for school.
EVER!
I walked faster trying not to slip anymore, and we reached the dry ground of Helen Avenue.Helen Avenue back then wasn’t quite a real street yet. It was a mixture of dust and gravel,no sidewalk to be seen. The dust on the road began to cling to the mud on my shoes, increasing my anger and discomfort.
By now Mark Gerber was far ahead of me,crossing Glassboro Road without looking back, leaving me for dead.
I began to run with all my might,quickly looking both ways at Glassboro Road, running faster still up Elm for the short block to Academy Ave.and the school.
I walked to the school as quickly as I could, noting that the playground was empty, that everyone was inside. I climbed those seven narrowing steps wet and muddy, mad and sweaty, my record of punctuality broken. I was late-a disgrace to my self and the honor of my family! I could feel the sting of the bat across my butt,the I-told-you-so's,the no TV tonight speech ringing in my brain. I cursed Mark Gerber and I cursed myself, as I tried to prepare some pitiful lie to pass off as an excuse.
But, as I entered my classroom, a miracle-the late bell sounded after I reached my desk and not before!
I was dirty and angry , but I wasn’t late.
No excuses needed. My on time record remained intact.
I paid the price for being stupid.
I was mad at Mark Gerber.
I was even madder at myself.
I would spend that day in soggy, muddy shoes and dirt on the knees of my pants.
During the Lord's Prayer I made a solemn vow.
I would stick to my trail on the sidewalks forever.
I'd listen to the voices of my parents running inside my brain.
And I would never walk to school with Mark Gerber again.
EVER.