The Chaotic Crime Commited
The leaves on our red Japanese Maple tree rustled as my cousin swung from branch-to-branch. He was dangerously close to smashing against the concrete wall beside him. Kyle’s feet groped for the next branch, raising himself to a higher elevation. His pupils darted from place-to-place, carefully planning his next move. Never in my life had I seen a six-year-old so determined and serious. But his task wasn’t far from it. My neck craned, my eyes watching him grab the rusting aluminum gutter. I didn’t realize how anxious I was going to be when I actually dared my poor cousin to climb the garage roof. But that seemed so long ago, nearly lost in my mind. I followed Kyle with my eyes as he leaped from the branch he formerly stood on, and vanished over the black roof shingles. I thought I’d seen the last of him until his head made a final, heart-hammering poke off the edge of the roof, and his tiny tongue stretched out at me through his mocking mouth.
I couldn’t cease trembling from anxious excitement. He should be down by now, shouldn’t he? I mean, his task was practically through. I wasn’t sure what to expect, considering the fact that no one ever listens to “little old me,” making I-can’t-believe-you faces. But my next move had been determined for me, by the shrill screams erupting from the porch. I sprang into action, making a bee-line for the tall concrete steps leading to the porch that might have given me some view of Kyle’s climbing actions. Well, if all the adults hadn’t gotten ahead of me first. They were just clumped there, frozen in a paused movie that seemed stuck forever. No more debating politics and sipping soda for them, completely unaware of what their “precious” children were doing. Instead, they had to stand there and watch as Kyle proceeded on his mission, clambering up the slope like a dog. I caught my father’s face creeping into a bright red color every five seconds or so when some shingles were kicked loose and plummeted to their doom. Not until Kyle stood there like Superman, fists glued to his hips, feet shoulder width apart, did he sink so slow down to emphasize the moment, finally perching on the very point of the triangular roof. But to all the young cousins below, he was Superman, invincible and listening to no one, not even the adults, to show the justice of letting kids do whatever they want. He still needed to give his audience a fabulous conclusion to his show, though, which was made with a simple smile and wave angled downward.
“Kyle!” they all screamed in a frenzy as a few sprinted toward the scene, trying to be heroes themselves.
“Don’t move!” my grandmother yelled.
“Climb down!” my other cousin offered, one that wasn’t particularly fond of Kyle, received an icy glare from grandma after that remark. Poor Kyle must be so confused and scared. It was all my fault! We were a crowd of full-out confusion, until a most-awaited rescue was made by none other than Uncle Steve, Kyle’s father. The gutter was almost wrenched from its place on the garage from his weight, but eventually, with much more crying and dramatics that was good for us, Kyle found a new sitting-spot in the corner, where he explained that he was dared to perform his great exhibition. Before we knew it, new screams echoed around the property.
“Alright, who did it?” my Uncle Steve demanded. The result was an immediate sell-out by my accomplices, watching the entire time but cousins who I assumed would keep quiet. I was proved wrong by pudgy fingers pointing in my direction.
“Abby….” Uncle Steven began, but he didn’t get to finish, because in the next moment, there was a waterfall.
“I didn’t think he could get in-trouble, or he could’ve gotten hurt,” I explained between sobs. But I really didn’t think any of those things, I’d never gotten in trouble before, how was I supposed to know? I tried to run and hide, but I was just held in the corner. After a while, I was let-out, just to be scolded by more of the family members. How could the world be so unforgiving and cruel? He didn’t even apologize to me for doing what I said. I did nothing wrong! I stared out the window, chin-in-hand, like a drama queen, watching Kyle pick-up garage shingles. Later, when he left, I was forced to do the same. All alone and broken like those rough, black shingles. You do the crime, you do the time.