I saw in my mind the minister reading from his bible as the custodian worked the winch that lowered my father's nice wooden coffin with the brass handles into his new hole. I saw dad's brother, Uncle Derrick, with his arm around my mom. I remember thinking that his hand was too close to her breast, but she was crying, and my brother was crying, and there was a problem with the winch, so I looked away.

I was walking all that time, following the path. Here and there smaller tributaries snaked away between the oaks, and cedars, and birches. Some of the teenagers liked to come here to make out and drink. I'd seen them once. They'd had a small camp fire in a clearing and sleeping bags, and cans of beer. Mark Jarvis had been there. He was 14 then, and some people said that he carried a knife. I was hiding in the bushes, and saw him kissing Tammy Stewart on the mouth while his hand went up her shirt. Tammy saw me hiding and she screamed, and Mark fell down and banged his head on an exposed root.

He was mad because he'd hit his head, and because Tammy didn't want to make out anymore. He grabbed me, pulled me into the clearing in the trees. The boys laughed and swore at me, the girls cooed and pleaded with Mark to let me go. I was only ten. Mark pulled me right up next to the fire and held my wrists together behind my back. I thought my shoulder blades would meet somewhere in the middle and my arms started to ache, so I started to cry.

"Let him go?" Mark said, "I can't let him go till he's learned his lesson!"

Then he took out his knife with the wooden handle and the snake on the hilt and he held it to my cheek.

"Are you a little pervert?" he demanded, "Are you a peepin' tom? Do you know what they do to perverts, boy?"

I wanted to shake my head, to indicate that I didn't know what they did to perverts, but the knife point was right against my skin. I remember it was cold, and felt like just before the doctor puts the needle in your arm. I thought I would pee my pants. The boys cheered him on, told him to teach me a lesson and prick me, but the girls intervened. Tammy told him not to, threatened to leave if he did, promised to go back into the trees with him if he didn't.

"But he needs to learn a lesson", Mark said. He was so much older than I was, so much bigger. "He needs to learn not to spy on other people." So Mark took the knife away from my cheek, and my skin stung from where the point had touched me. "I know," he said in my ear, "I'll tell you a story about a little girl who spied on some people, and who was murdered in these very woods."