way back down the road to our
house.
When I ran inside I looked like
I’d been beaten to a pulp because I
was bawling my eyes out and was
covered in red-purple berry juice.
My mother looked at me, horrified.
“What happened?”
In between sobs I told her the
story. “These kids...the mulberry
tree...they threw berries at me...”
When I finished, she burst out
laughing. “It’s not funny!” I said.
“No, no, Trevor,” she said. “I’m
not laughing because it’s funny. I’m
laughing out of relief. I thought
you’d been beaten up. I thought this