I want to tell you a story about Wendy, the girl who lived down the road from us. Didn't know much about her, her history, her family. Saw her at school, back in elementary school. She sat up front from me, her desk always a mess, and her appearance--well, she wasn't the cleanest girl I ever saw. Dirt all over her face, dirty fingernails. And girls are usually so particular about such things. But something about her attracted my gaze. Don't know exactly what it was. She wasn't popular or even liked by the other classmates--we were at that time beginning to draw the lines of friendship. But despite all that, I liked her. Luckily, I was young enough, innocent enough, to overlook everything else, all peer pressure and what-have-you.

One day the two of us walked home together, only one day. I usually walked, my house being just over a mile. I was old enough, I kept telling my mom, until finally she gave in. Safe enough neighborhood, you know. And summer was coming on, besides. Nice days after school for walking.

Saw her there, sitting on the curb, out in front of the school, away from all the other kids. Looked as if she'd been crying. Asked what was up; she said nothing. Made some more small talk, all that kids that age are able to do. Who knows what random things came out of my mouth. "Wanna walk?" I finally said. She still didn't say anything, but after a moment she stood up and started off ahead of me.

No talking on the way, either. We passed that big house on the corner, the one with the Spanish-looking architecture (my dad always said so when we passed); passed the gated house with the two big dogs--that gate was like something out of a bad horror flick, and the dogs were surely from hell, their teeth showing as they growled and snapped, foam running off the sides of their horrible lips; passed the vegetable shack, where Dad goes on Saturdays to see what's in season; passed beneath the freeway, the large open field where they're now building a Mormon church, the devil of a hill rising on the left (at the time, I hadn't yet successfully biked up it without stopping), the duck pond, the lazy-eyed cows, the fire station on the right. Finally to my house; hers was still up the way.

She stopped there, waiting for me to depart, I guess, but I just said, "I'll go with you the whole way." And so we did. It was about another mile up the road. Still no talking. Finally to her place. Saw her dad out front, a grimace on his face when he saw the two of us together, his thick forearms flexed. He slipped behind a fence, into the backyard. Wendy looked down at the dirt driveway.

"Thanks," she said. "See you tomorrow."

"Okay," I said. "See ya."

It was a funny feeling I had walking back. First electricity, if you know what I mean. Still in the fifth grade, so it wasn't anything pubescent. Just pre-pubescent. Enough to open up my world, to send me reeling and humming all the way home.