“Oh no, here comes No Legs, run!” I screamed at Melanie.
“Just run!” I yelled over my shoulder as I ran away from the golf cart slowly making its way down the street toward us.
Melanie ran to my side, together we hid behind the back steps, up against the house. The sound of the cart passing the front of the house was now a distant buzz, but still we whispered.
“Don’t ever get caught by No Legs,” I told Melanie.
“Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“Can’t you see?” I giggled, after all, Melanie was only five, and I was exactly 361 days older than her.
“How come he has no legs?” she questioned me.
“My daddy says he lost them at Vietnam, just like Mr. Shumann.”
“How do you lose your legs?”
“I don’t know, but I think they went to Vietnam and someone stole them!”
“Laura, you’re telling fibs, you don’t just lose your legs!”
“Daddy says that when you go to Vietnam you lose lots of things and that no one really cares either!”
“Wait,” Melanie stared wide eyed at me. “Laura, are you telling me that he lost his legs so we can never go near him?”
“I didn’t say that! What I mean is that he is crazy, that is his real name, Crazy No Legs. One time he pulled my brother up into his wheelchair and was hugging and kissing him, telling him that he was sorry for all that he had done.”
Melanie’s eyes squinted into disbelief, “No he didn’t!”
“Oh yes he did, Mommy and Daddy had to call the police. Crazy No Legs told them that he owed apologies to all the yellow children.”
“What does he mean, ‘yellow children’?” Melanie said.
“I don’t know, but Mommy and Daddy were yelling about how Crazy No Legs can’t be trusted with children, and they told us to stay away from him!”
“Wow,” Melanie whispered, “so, let’s go play Barbie’s!”