I grew up in a very well to do neighborhood, only I was not well to do at all. It was the early 1990s and I loved hanging out with my stepsister and being outside all day. My slightly older than me stepsister would let me ride on her bike's handlebars because I couldn't keep up with her on my own kid's bike. We would go to the nearest gas station and buy gummy bears during the summer break. It was awesome. My stepsister and I would laugh and play together all day, I still have nostalgia for it. Sometimes though we got into a bit of trouble in our socially pressing environment. This is the story of how we got invited to our Councilman neighbor's mansion and I made a real mess of things.
It was a few weeks before the biggest pool party on the block. I was sitting on the handlebars of my stepsister's bike and we were on our way to get our usual gummy bear snack. On the way a speeding suburbanite cut us off and caused my stepsister to have to stop short, I flew forward and used my hands to brace myself from hitting the pavement. It was a fruitless effort, my right hand particularly was sliced with the top layer of skin hanging off of the entire length of my palm, plus my knees looked like raw hamburger meat. My stepsister was aghast with guilt and took me home immediately, but of course, I received no medical treatment because my father was the most neglectful parent ever imaginable. My stepsister bandaged my hand and gave me a hug.
My wounds closed up enough to have stopped bleeding by the time the pool party had arrived and my stepsister promised to take me, so she did. My knees were scabbed over and the avulsed skin on my palm had a bandaid to cover the huge skin flap that was very unsightly. We were in heaven, there was BBQ and fruit punch. We played limbo and danced to Ace of Base. The party was coming to a close and the pool was nearly empty. I wanted to go in and my stepsister thought we could sneak it if I took off my oversized bandaid. We drove in and played volleyball in the pool. We stayed in the water much longer than we planned. When it was time to get out because the party was over we walked home.
The whole way back we talked about how cool it was that we got to go and about all the fun things we did. It wasn't until we were about to open the door to our house that my stepsister asked "how's your hand?" I looked down at it at that moment realizing that I had forgotten about my bandaid and the skin flap that had a tendency wave around. It was completely gone! My old skin must have fallen off in the pool and my stepsister and I knew it. In a hushed tone, I asked her "Should we go back and tell them?" She shut that down saying "we can't go to the Councilman and tell him and his wife that we, the poorest people on the street left a 4-inch skin flap in their pool. We'll never get invited to anything again!" I nodded my head in agreement and we went about our life, knowing that I left the former palm of my hand in the Councilman's pool that summer. Oh my God...too late to do much about it now I suppose. I send my regrets to the Councilman. So sorry Sir.