8. Thoughts (cont.)

Along with bread and meat and vegetables, Mr. Saleri sold penny candy. When we girls went in and pressed our noses against the glass case that held the licorice whips and smartees and jaw breakers and Tootsie Rolls, he stopped whatever he was doing to come talk to us and tease us.

Only one day not too long ago, everyone said he was driving his pick-up and he stopped and offered a ride to one of the bigger girls whose name was Charlene. She was thirteen, and she said “yes” and got into the truck. She shouldn’t have done that. Everyone said so.

I didn’t really understand what it was that happened, only that what happened was nasty, but I often thought about how it was all Charlene’s fault, because she got into the truck. And I knew that if Mr. Saleri had stopped his pickup and offered me a ride, I would have gotten in, too. He was our friend, after all. So if the nasty thing had happened to me, it would be my fault, too. And when I thought about that, I felt guilty and walked by Mr. Saleri’s store very fast, my head low and my cheeks burning.