Issue 9: It’s Saturday, I’m Eleven

Dave Martin I’m headed into the woods at the end of my street. I live alone in the woods. It’s Saturday, or summer, and I’m walking over the field at the back of the school at the end of my street. I’m eleven and can, at a distance, identify older kids who might beat me up. There are three ways, from this side, to take into the woods. Two only we know about. In the backpack my father bought me at a yard sale, I carry a folding shovel, a short saw, a hammer and nails, one Phillips and one…

This content is for Subscriber members only.
Log In Register