Creepy George

George was in my class at Our Lady when we moved from Indianapolis to Smith Valley. That was fourth grade. He was one of those creepy kind of kids that nobody liked. I just tried to stay away from him for the entire school year. That summer, my brothers and I were kicked out of Our Lady. There were so many "rich" Catholics moving into the area, that they wanted to get rid of the poor kids to make room for the rich kids. One day Father gave my mom a call and asked her if she was going to start tithing. Mom gave what she could, but she couldn't give ten percent, and that's what she told Father.

The next thing Mom heard was Father Mueller telling her, "Then your children will not be going to school here next year". Yeah, like that was a bad thing??? I could breathe again! I didn't like Our Lady. It was run more like a POW camp than a school. It took us two buses to get home, and we were only seven miles away. So in fifth grade, I started going to Center Grove. The best thing was...no more George! That creepy boy was out of my life...or so I thought.

I can't remember when he started going to Center Grove, but it wasn't too long after I started there. He claimed he was kicked out of Our Lady because he just happened to be sitting on the school bus with both hands on his books in his lap--and his thumbs were straight up. (Yeah, right.) George claimed that Randy sat on his thumb, but we all know that George goosed Randy. So George got kicked out of Our Lady of Greenwood--not for being poor, but for goosing another boy.

Wouldn't you know. George was in my class again, and developed a crush on me. To top it off, he lived within walking distance of my house! Every Saturday the creep would show up and molest my little sister's Barbie dolls. (I told you he was a creep.) Then he'd start chasing me. Every Saturday, I'd run across the street and get my friend Penny to beat up George. Penny was a year older than me, so she was around 11 at the time. But she had muscles and wasn't afraid to use them.

Ol' George would get the hint after Penny waled on him, and he'd go home. But every Saturday morning, he'd forget the lesson he received the week before. He'd repeat the same drill every Saturday. Show up. Molest Barbie. Chase me. Get beat up by Penny. Run home. You'd think he'd learn. Or maybe he just craved attention so much, that even getting his butt whooped every Saturday was better than nothing.

Another Saturday--true to form, George showed up again. He molested Barbie again, and then started chasing me. And as always, I ran over to Penny's. But this time, Penny didn't come out when I yelled. I ran round and round her house screaming her name, with George right behind me. Where was Penny? How could she not be there when she knew this was our Saturday ritual?

From his labored breathing, I just knew George was frothing at the mouth and getting closer. What I didn't know was what he'd do if he ever caught me. So I ran around that house until I could no longer run. Finally, I stopped, turned, and faced that creepy George. He stopped about three feet in front of me, wearing his insipid grin and breathing like some asthmatic hunchback. Oh God, if that slobbery creep kissed me I was going to puke.

I knew I couldn't beat the snot out of him like Penny did. So I did the only thing I could think of. I winded up and kicked the creep in the shin as hard as I could. I guess the shin was George's "Achilles Heel". He folded like an accordion, and hobbled home. That day I learned that sometimes you have to fight your own battles, and God gives you strength when you need it.

I never had to put up with that creepy George another Saturday.