Just Like the Big Kids

Just Like the Big Kids

The warm air wraps around my bare shoulders causing beads of sweat to trickle down my tan arms as I stand in the backyard of my home. Rays beating down from the sun reflect off the dark metal of the barrel and it calls to me. My older brother Bruce had been shooting old soda pop cans earlier and had forgotten to hide his pride and joy. Now I can prove to the big kids that I can play with them too, I think to myself. My chubby little fingers stretch out and wrap around the butt of the gun. The wood feels like silk just waiting to caressed again and so I resist no longer. Seven's old enough to be using this gun. I've seen my brothers shoot it so many times before that I know the routine by heart.

I set the tip of the barrel onto the ground so that I can pull the lever. I grip the warm steel, heated by the sun, and use all of my weight to push it down until I hear the click. The sound seems to echo off the fence and ring in my ears. I glance over my right shoulder towards the garden where my little sister Becky Ann is playing, to make sure she is not watching. I can only see the back of her pink tank top and her soft blond curls. She is too focused on something in the raspberry bushes to notice me and so I continue.

Slowly I raise the gun to my dirty face and place the butt against the apple of my cheek. My scrawny arms struggle, under the weight of the gun, to keep it steady. I peer down the long barrel with my right eye at the taunting red dot on the 7-up can.

"Steady Bethany, steady," I whisper to myself. I yank on the trigger and send a whistling B.B. towards my target. The force of the gun sends me stumbling back into the woodpile. Becky Ann jumps from the sudden noise and quickly turns to face me.

"I think I hit it! Hurry, come look Becky Ann," I say as I sprint towards the can. To my surprise I find a small hole within the taunting red dot.

"Wow, you're good," Becky Ann says as her jaw drops open and a look of astonishment fills her innocent blue eyes. "Do it again.

" I love showing off for my five-year-old sister because to her I am a big kid too. As I bend down to pick the gun up from the freshly cutgrass my ears prick at the song of a bird. Like a bold of lightning the thought sears my mind. If I shoot the bird the boys will think I am so cool! I lift my face towards the tree just behind the fence to examine the green foliage for my prey.

"Don't do it Bethany. Don't shoot the pretty bird," Becky Ann says softly with a hurt look in her eyes. "I'll tell." She turns around and marches her little legs back to the garden with her curls bouncing behind her. I watch her pick up an old, plastic, ice cream bucket and begin to search the plants for bugs. I don't care what she thinks. She's just jealous that I can shoot the gun and she can't. My thoughts immediately return to the shiny black gun in my hands. I pull the lever, aim, and then pull the trigger again. This time I was prepared for the kick and managed to remain standing. The soft clank of metal on metal means another hit. A rush of exhilaration starts in my tiny barefeet and moves up filling my entire body. Bethany what happens when you shoot a person?

I recock and aim at another can. The thought flashes in my mind again. What happens when you shoot a person?

"Hey Becky Ann will you come here for a minute? I want you to stand over by the fence. I'm gonna try something," I tell her as a motion towards the cans. She skips to where my chubby finger is pointing and turns to face me with the ice cream bucket still in her hands. The sun catches on her hair turning it to gold. Her blue eyes light up her dirty face and her smile is nothing but white teeth.

I lift the gun to my face like a hunter and stare down the barrel of the gun at this sweet and innocent face. I aim at the center of her head and before I realize what I'm doing I pull on the trigger. Almost instantly the shrills of pain and terror escape the plump lips of that little mouth. I drop the gun and stare in horror at the stream of crimson that is cascading down her forehead and into her eyes, making it difficult to see where I had actually hit her. I just killed my little sister!

Behind me, I hear the sound of the screen door sliding open faster than usual and I am afraid to turn and see who will be the first to arrive at the murder scene. I hear the footsteps rushing down the stairs from the deck and in the corner of my eye I see flaming red hair coming straight for me. Just as Bridgette, my older sister, latches onto my arm I watch my mother fly across the lawn and snatch up her screaming baby. My sister's fingernails push into my flesh as she drags me across the grass and up the stairs. My knees hit the ground as she yanks me into the house, through the kitchen, down the hall, and into my room where she hurls me onto my bed. Her beady eyes peer into mine and singe my weeping heart. She turns on her heels and her flames follow her out of the room as she slams the door, shaking the pictures on the wall.

The piercing screams of my hysterical sister echoes in my ears as I try to bury myself under a pillow. Each scream forces another tear to slide down my dirty face leaving streaks of pink skin. At least I know she's alive, I think to myself, hoping to ease the knots that are growing tighter in my stomach.

At last the crying subsides and an eerie silence fills my room. From under the soft feathers of my pillow I hear my bedroom door creak open. The presence of my stern father surrounds my body as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I prepare myself for the punishment that I am about to receive and slowly lift the pillow from my tear-stained cheeks. Immediately he recognizes the look of fear on my young face and offers a heartfelt smile as he saunters toward me. With his thick hands he carefully picks up my shaking body and sets me on his lap so that he can look into my eyes.

"Do you know what you did wrong," he asked. "I shouldn't have shot Becky Ann with the gun. Daddy is she okay?"

"Yes, Becky Ann is going to be just fine. She was more scared than anything."

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"It's okay. We all make mistakes. That's why Heavenly Father sent us down here on Earth. By making mistakes we learn what is right so we can make it back to Him someday." He continued, "Guns are very dangerous and we must be careful with them."

"Daddy, I will never touch a gun again," I vow and fling my hand into the air.

"How about we just work on thinking about the consequences before we make a choice. Now, there is someone who would like to see you out in the living room." Afraid of whom I will find, I carefully walk down the hall and into the living room rubbing my bare feet through the carpet. To my surprise I see Becky Ann lying on the couch with a tiny, pink Band-Aid on her forehead. Her puffy, red eyes squint as her face turns up into a beautiful smile. I sprint across the room and fall next to her placing my head on her small chest. I repeat over and over, "I'm so sorry Becky Ann, I'm so sorry."

She runs her little fingers through my dark hair and with her sweet voices she says the most wonderful words. "It's okay Bethany I still love you!"