Almost Lost
I can no longer picture the driver's face or recall how his voice sounded when he pulled up to the curb and called me over to his pea-green Monte Carlo.
I can no longer picture the driver's face or recall how his voice sounded when he pulled up to the curb and called me over to his pea-green Monte Carlo.
I tightened the knot of the gray sweatshirt tied around my waist, tucked my math worksheets under my arm, and ambled to the car. I was still out of breath from running across the four-way intersection in front of the Safeway and Grand Central stores. I wasn't sure he was even talking to me, but I was the only one there.
I remember the acrid smell of the black vinyl interior as the sun hit it and the series of tears along the back of the passenger seat.
"Do you know how to get to MacDougal Street?" he asked, waving me closer to the window.
I hesitated, thinking it was odd that an adult was asking me for directions, but I leaned against the car and poked my head through the open passenger window to reply.
"Um, no. I just moved here, and this is my first time walking home from school. There's a motel up that way." I said, pointing ahead. "They probably have a map."
He looked to see where I was pointing, gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, then turned his body to face me.
"You're kinda young to be walking on this busy road by yourself, aren't you? How old are you...nine? Ten?"
I couldn't believe he thought I was older. I laughed, "I'm seven. I'm only in second grade, but my mom leaves me with my younger brother sometimes, and he's only two, so I seem older."
"Do you want a ride?" he asked.
My stomach tightened. Even though it was the late 70s, and seeing the faces of missing kids on the side of milk containers wasn't a thing yet, something seemed off about a guy I didn't know offering me a ride home. But part of me welcomed the attention.
"No, thanks. I'm used to walking. We don't have a car, so I walk everywhere."
I took a step back as he leaned closer. "Well, listen...how far do you have to go? I'd hate for you to walk too far on your own. There's a lot of traffic on this road."
My stomach clenched again despite him being so nice to me. I do want a ride. Maybe it'll be okay, I thought. But my feet were plastered to the sidewalk.
"It is pretty far..." my voice trailed off.
The driver lurched toward the passenger door and unlocked it. He patted the seat; "It's fine!" he called over. "Hop in! I'll have you there in no time."
I looked at the driver, then back toward my grandfather's autobody shop where we were staying. It occurred to me that his car was headed in the opposite direction.
"That's okay. I have to go. My mom will get mad if I'm late. She told me to come right home after school."
The driver called out to me as I turned and started away from the car, but I couldn't tell what he was saying.
After a few dozen steps, I turned to see the car still idling at the curb. Before I realized what I was doing, I broke into a run. I felt my sweatshirt slide past my hips, fall to my feet with my next stride, and nearly trip me. I ignored it and picked up the pace.
A couple hundred feet into my sprint, I felt nauseous. My heart was beating in my throat, and I needed to stop.
Panting, I bent over, rested my hands on my knees, and peered over my shoulder in time to see the driver toss my gray sweatshirt into his Monte Carlo, sink into the driver's seat, and pull away.
Wow. Creepy.