A Secret is Out

The following happened when I was a freshman in high school.

My friend and I made plans to go see a movie at our town's tiny 99 cent theater, and we decided we would eat Chinese food a few blocks away before the movie. Since we were not old enough to drive, my friend's mom dropped us off at the restaurant and planned to pick us up from the theater when the movie was over. For the life of me, I cannot remember the movie we were going to see, but I guess it doesn't matter. I wish I could remember it, though.

After eating Chinese food, we started walking towards the movie theater, which is right in the middle of the small downtown area. We still had a while before the movie started, so we walked down a few of the deserted streets to kill some time. It was probably during winter because I remember it being dark, but it couldn't have been after 7 o'clock. All the little businesses in town closed at or around 5 o'clock, so the street was completely empty. On this particular street, the street is a few feet lower than the sidewalk and business entrances, so there are stairs on each end of the block to get to the sidewalk from the street.

We were goofing off, and at one point I was trying to sit on top of the handrail along the stairs leading up to the sidewalk. The rail was just a few inches to tall for me--I couldn't sit on it and have a foot touching the steps at the same time. While I was trying to figure out a way to do this without losing my balance, my friend was giving me a hard time about it. She apparently didn't understand why I couldn't just balance myself up there, so she pushed me a little to try to make me balance; instead, I instantly lost my balance and started to fall backward towards the street below, which was several feet below me. At the same time, I screamed, fearing for my life, and at the last moment, I grabbed a telephone pole (ouch!) that was luckily within my reach. As are most wooden telephone poles in sidewalked areas, this one was very splintery and had nails and staples sticking out of it. My hands were dirty, bloody, and had little pieces of skin hanging off of them, but I was thankful not to have landed head-first on the street.

My friend asked if I was okay--which I basically was--and then she said, "I swear to God, Gina, if you tell anyone about this, I will kill you." She was so serious that I didn't even question what she meant. That she almost killed me? I'm not sure whether I noticed or whether she indicated it to me, but she had wet her pants, presumably out of fear that she had almost severely injured me. As luck would have it, I had a half-full bottle of Dr.Pepper that was used to pour all over her pants in order to spare her some embarrassment. Our story was that when she panicked at my fall, she spilled it on herself. Brilliant. I honestly don't remember whether her mom took us home or just brought her new pants.

So, it seems there should be a moral or at least a point to this story, but I can't figure out what it is. Maybe it could be one or more of the following...

• Anything, if witnessed, is never secret.
• Be careful not to endanger others, or there will be consequences.
• Always have a bottle of Dr. Pepper handy.
• Unpleasant or exciting incidents make good memories.

I don't think I told anyone for years, but since I haven't seen her since high school, I figure it's safe now. Plus, I'm keeping her name anonymous. ;)