todd

Todd moved onto my block when I was 12. He was also 12, but had been left back and was one grade below me. Todd's appearance was sudden and mysterious. No one knew where he came from or where his parents were. He moved in with his elderly grandparents, carrying one duffel bag and a soccer ball.

His grandparents were German and spoke little English. Todd spoke little German. His grandmother could often be seen beating rugs out of the second floor window. His grandfather was missing an arm, and kept an empty right sleeve tucked into the waist of his pants.

Todd was, by far, the cutest boy I had ever seen. He rarely wore anything but athletic gear: running shorts, t-shirts, wrist bands and sneakers. His brown hair was straight and hung into his eyes. He had a devilish grin and a dimple in his right cheek. He was good at every sport, but especially liked football and soccer.

Oddly enough, I did not develop a crush on Todd. Instead, I felt the way about him that I would feel about a wounded bird. I wanted to protect him and keep larger birds from pecking at him. I wondered about his parents, though I never asked. Watching his grandmother bark at him in a foreign language, I wanted to take him home with me, feed him chocolate chip cookies and watch television.

The nuns took an instant dislike to Todd. They were as alarmed by his sudden appearance as I was intrigued. Knowing that he had been left back a year, they often referred to him as "the new dumb kid". This was a relief to Joe Marco, who had singularly been known as "the dumb kid" prior to Todd's arrival. The label didn't seem to bother Todd, however. He laughed at any mention of his stupidity, making ape faces and grunting at the nuns. He also openly called Sister Marie a rhinoceros and told Sister Bernadine that she was older than the Bible.

When Todd first moved in, I watched from my window as he kicked his soccer ball against a building. He didn't look lonely or unhappy, but I still felt a tug of pity when I looked at him. Maybe it was the dirt ringing his neck or the extra-worn sneakers he was wearing. It wasn't that he was any poorer than we were. It was just the lack of care surrounding him, the fact that no one seemed bothered by the ring of dirt or the worn sneakers. I grabbed my brother Chris and we headed out to play with Todd.

We became instant friends, or the closest that Todd would allow to becoming friends. He never talked about himself or his family, but he accepted invitations to eat dinner at our house often. He became part of my group of friends, playing tag and manhunt in the summer, having snowball fights in the winter. He felt like a brother I didn't have to share a bathroom with.

Todd was very often in trouble. He was immature and mischievous, even more so than other boys his age. I'm not sure if the nuns picked up on his bad behavior before it started, or if all of their labeling propelled him into juvenile delinquency. Todd was responsible for broken windows, graffiti tags and overturned garbage pails all over town. He rarely got into fist fights, but the few he had were brutal and bloody; he always walked away without a scratch.

We occupied entire days of our childhood on the campus of a local college overlooking the Manhattan skyline. We would spend hours exploring what we called "the trails". This was a five-block stretch of overgrown brush and trees on the cliffs below the college and above the Hudson River. The trails were private property, belonging to the college, which made traversing them even more titillating. Half of our time was spent running away from the "toy cops", campus security. They would chase us with their billy clubs brandished, huffing as their beer bellies dragged below their belts. If we went home without having been chased by the toy cops, we were disappointed by our failure to incite a riot on that particular day.

The campus became Todd's favorite toilet. Even if we were near his house, he'd say, "I gotta take a piss. C'mon." We'd then hike up to campus. Todd would break into a classroom and take a piss on a professor's desk or onto the blackboard. Once he even pissed into the open window of a toy cop's car. We hid in the bushes and watched the toy cop waddle to his car and sit on his wet seat. We rolled around the grass clutching our sides as the toy cop patted his pissy seat with a handkerchief and sniffed at it, trying to place the smell.

Although I was often with Todd during his terror raids on campus, I never participated. In fact, the more bold he became in his behavior, the more uneasy I became around him. The novelty of his hijinx wore off, and I was afraid Todd was going to get caught and maybe even hurt. The toy cops knew Todd by name. They wanted to get even with him for making them look like fools. I wasn't sure what they were capable of if Todd was ever dumb enough to get caught.

A large group of us were on campus one spring day. The trees were in bloom and I loved walking around campus, pretending I was a college student with cable-knit sweaters, loafers and term papers. As I was daydreaming, I saw Todd open the window of a first floor dorm room and peer inside. He stood on the ledge, unzipped his pants and let go a stream of piss. Everyone laughed and cheered him on. I was disgusted with the whole group, and wanted to be on my own away from them all. I waved good-bye and headed down the long hill to my house.

Moments later, as I was rounding the corner, I heard the pounding of feet behind me. I turned and saw Todd and my friends running down the hill towards me.

"Cops! Go! Get out of here. Run!" Todd screamed without stopping as he and my friends whizzed past me. I ran a few steps and was stopped in the middle of the street by two toy cop cars. They jumped out of their cars and rushed towards me.

"Freeze!" they both screamed, veins popping out of their foreheads. I did as they said, figuring I had nothing to fear. I had done nothing wrong, and thought it would be worse if I ran. I rested my hands on my hips defiantly, palms sweating and heart drumming in my chest.

Before I could protest, the toy cops grabbed me by the arm and put me in the back seat of a green VW bug. (At that time, the toy cops had to use their own cars to patrol the campus. And they wondered why they got no respect!) A toy cop with dark, course back hair got into the driver's seat.

"You're in trouble now, missy!" he laughed and sweated into his beard. I shook and felt my face turn red, trying to fight back the tears. He drove me around the neighborhood, and I actually saw Todd walking into his house as we drove by.

We parked in an alleyway, and I cried in earnest. The toy cop looked at me not unkindly, handing me a tissue as I gulped for air between sobs.

"Now look," he started. "We know you didn't urinate on that computer back there. We know it was Todd. You just tell us where he lives and this'll all be over for you".

Once I realized that I wasn't about to be raped, my crying subsided and I sat up defiantly.

"I'm no rat!"

"How about his last name?"

I stared out the window in stony silence. He sighed in disgust, scratching his furry back.

For almost an hour the toy cop drove me around town, looking for signs of Todd and lecturing me about the hoodlums I called my friends. Finally, he drove me home. Before letting me out of the car, he warned that if he caught me on campus again, he'd haul me in and make sure I got a JD card. Getting out of his car, I slammed the door hard behind me. I spit near his tire, proud that I hadn't cracked under pressure.

I was a hero at school the next day. Everyone knew I had been caught and hadn't ratted. I was drilled about what the toy cops said, what they did to me, how I held up under their beady eyes. Todd said nothing, but smiled and patted my back vigorously. I had done it all to protect him, and I still wasn't sure why.

For a while, Todd seemed to curb his wild ways. Instead of terrorizing the town, he would ring my bell, holding his soccer ball, and we'd go kick the ball around. Some days we rode our bikes for hours, and Todd didn't even knock any car mirrors off along the way. This is it, i thought, he's finally changing.

Summer came, and Todd was ecstatic to have dodged summer school that year. His focus was on baseball. He had tried out for little league and was chosen for one of the best teams. His baseball glove, however, was in rough shape, and he needed a new one in order to play.

We walked the streets, brainstorming fundraising ideas. Living in a city, there were no lawns to mow. We were too old for a lemonade stand, and too young to get real jobs. Without realizing it, we ended up at the entrance to the campus. Steve, the oldest and friendliest of the toy cops, was standing beside his Impala.

"Hey kids, what's shakin?"

"Hi Steve," we murmured back. Steve waved us over and we dragged our feet over to him.

"Why so glum? You got no homework to do."

"Yeah, and we got no money either." Todd shot back.

"Whaddya need money for?"

I explained Todd's predicament. As I talked, Todd took off his t-shirt and tucked it into the back of his shorts. I noticed Steve looking at Todd's chest, shirtless and sweaty, and I became uncomfortable. Todd seemed to notice Steve's glances too. Rather than be embarrassed, however, Todd seemed to puff up under Steve's gaze.

Without taking his eyes off of Todd, Steve made a proposition.

"Say Todd, I think I might have a job for you. How's about you clean my car, for say, five bucks?"

"I'd say 15 and you have a deal."

"Now, that's a little steep dontcha think?"

Todd turned on his heels and walked away from Steve.

"Later daddy."

"Okay okay now hold on a minute!" Steve was actually trembling as he fumbled for his wallet.

Todd struck a pose and waited, smacking his lips impatiently.

Steve produced a twenty dollar bill and waved it at Todd.

"Got change?" he purred.

Todd sauntered back and tried to swipe the twenty out of Steve's hand. Steve held tight to the bill, and they yanked on it back and forth. Todd leaned close into Steve's chest and Steve's eyes fluttered. Todd pulled the money out of Steve's hand, and Steve licked his lips.

"Todd, let's go!" I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I wanted to be away from Steve, and away from Todd, back in my air-conditioning watching cartoons. But first I wanted to make sure that Todd got away from Steve, fast.

Steve and Todd continued to stare each other down.

"Why dontcha go on home, honey. This ain't no job for a girl. Todd can handle it on his own."

"Todd, I said let's go!" I pulled on his arm and he leaned close into my ear.

"Go on home. I got this under control."

Todd gave me a gentle shove and I walked away. I wanted to do something or tell someone, but I didn't know who or even what to tell. Before I turned the corner, I saw Steve's fat hand on Todd's back.

The next day Todd rang my bell. I opened the door and he waved a new baseball glove at me.

"Look what I got! And that's not all". Todd pulled a twenty out of his sock.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked.

"From Steve yesterday dummy. You were right there!"

"Then where'd you get the glove?" I asked, feeling that tightening in my stomach again.

"Steve."

"Oh."

"Let's get pizza. Steve's treat."

Todd began to spend more time with Steve: going fishing, cleaning his car, and once going to a Yankees game. Steve looked at Todd like he was an ice cream cone on a sunny day. Todd stared vacantly at Steve, pouting his lips on cue every once in a while.

I began to feel nervous around Todd and spent less and less time with him. He didn't seem to notice or to care. Later that year, Todd was expelled from my school and ended up in public school. That'd didn't bother him either. As long as he had sports and a little change in his pocket, he was happy enough.

Todd played football in high school and did very well for his team. He led them to three state championships, and the coach made lots of promises about his future. Todd loved the praise and wanted more than anything to please the coach. Somewhere along the way, however, Todd started partying hard. He fouled up his last year of high school and got thrown off the team. Gone were the promises of college scholarships and pro scouts. The coach and the team forgot how they had hoisted Todd onto their shoulders, chanting his name. He shuffled around aimlessly, unsure of who he was without sports, or the praise of the coach.

Todd dropped out of school, and for years I heard rumors of his death. I assumed that one of the stories must have been true.

A few years ago I was driving down the street and a wiffle ball hit my windshield. I slammed on the breaks. A doughy man ran in front of my car to retrieve the ball. His skin was weathered but he moved with a certain grace. Todd looked up and saw my face. He smiled broadly, as if we had just seen each other yesterday.

Again I felt it in my chest. That rush, that tightness, that made me want to protect him from the world. We spoke briefly. He told me he lived nearby and worked construction. He seemed older than he should have, not sad, but disappointed somehow.

A car honked behind me and I wished Todd well, driving away. I see him now, on that same corner, playing wiffle ball with boys half his age. As he swings the bat he has that same glimmer in his eye. His bangs are still in his eyes, and his dimple is more pronounced in his fuller cheeks. I feel sorry for every person that ever let him down. And I can't help but feel that I was one of them.