Good Kid Gone Bad

 

It was one bright summer’s day, and it was my first vacation since I went into elementary school (in Korea, school year starts in winter.) I was bored to desperation with my monotonous life that was completely void of surprises or unplanned events. Like every other day during my summer break, my friend who lived next door came to play again. Honestly, I was bored with her, too.

            Then, suddenly, whimsical side of my character completely took over my thought and mind. I had this immense desire to sneak into a berry bush farm, which was not far away from my apartment, and eat all those juicy, red berries I saw. I still do not understand why I had this impulse to steal other person’s crop and eat it, since there were plenty of food and snack in the refrigerator. May be it was from my subconscious yearning to escape my everyday life and experience some excitement. Or, may be I was just a naughty kid whose inborn wickedness was suppressed by strict codes of behavior set up by my conservative parents. Anyways, that day, my evil side conquered my innocent side and filled me with longing to create mischief. I knew that I risked my reputation as a “good kid” if I got caught, but I decided to do it anyways. 

            Next step was to persuade my friend to follow my lead. I also decided to take my little brother – even though I knew that he would follow me anyways - just in case he comes in handy with ability to use his small and nimble body and collect all those berries for me. We devised a plan to sneak into the farm, collect the berries (or eat them on the spot), and get out as fast as we can. We also decided to wait until the sun went down, so that it wouldn’t be bright enough to detect who we were unless the old farmer saw us from only few feet away. However, we were not patient enough to wait until the evening came, and scurried to the farm without the assistance of darkness that will hide our identity.

            It was a small suburban town and everyone trusted each other. At least, the old farmer thought that there wouldn’t be any kids who were going to try to steal his precious berries, and he left the fence unlocked. The left side was inhabited by pear trees, but they were not ripe yet. Thinking that I would come back in fall to get those pears, I infiltrated into the berry bush section with my friend and my little brother. Sweet smell of the fruit filled my nose and left my mouth watering. Our eyes turned wide as we saw hundreds of berries that glittered like small rubies under the glowing summer sun. My hands were out of control of my brain. Instead of carefully collecting the berries into plastic bag that we prepared, we started to stuff out mouths with the ripe, crimson berries.

            The sweet taste and sugary fragrance of sparkling fruits were more than satisfying. However, it was the thrill of taking other person’s possession without permission that kept me going. My heart was beating faster and faster until it was literally drumming against my rib cage. I could not stop myself from grabbing at the bush, ripping off the berries, and automatically bringing them to my mouth. I believed that we were creating the legend in our town; if we got caught, then it would really become a legend, and if we didn’t get caught, I would just brag about what we dared to do to my friends. I thought I was being brave and courageous, and felt as if I had become a heroic soldier who was trying to obtain top secret information in enemy’s camp. In fact, we were three pathetic little creatures who were busy stuffing our stomachs. Then, the farmer discovered us.

            “You kids! What are you doing to my berry bushes?” The grumpy old farmer was yelling at our direction, running towards us. I panicked and imagined myself being held as a prisoner by him and given only a bowl rice and water to eat upon. I was too terrified to think about my brother and my friend. All that came to my mind was that I had to save myself and prevent my awful imagination from coming to life. I started running as fast as I can toward the open side of the fence, darting all the way to my home without looking back even once. 

            It took only a minute or two for my comrades to catch up with me. Fortunately, they escaped the berry farm unharmed. However, I could not prevent them from criticizing my selfish actions. My friend yelled, “You are the worst friend I’ve ever had in my life!” My brother was no better at forgiving me. He declared that from now on, he would not consider me as his older sister since sisters are not supposed to abandon their brothers in the time of need. I felt my face turning red with shame. My cowardly deed was certainly not going to become a legend now, and I was not going to tell all my friends that I deserted my friend and my brother just to save myself from trouble.

            That evening, my parents discovered my t-shirt that had red spots all over. Of course, those stains were from berries. I told them truthfully, repenting my sins in my mind. I was surprised that my parents did not lecture me about morality and come up with number of examples of what happened to kids who behaved badly, like they usually did when I made trouble. Instead, they laughed and told me to never do it again. Later, I found out that my parents and the farmer were actually close with each other.

            I didn’t go back to the farm to get the pears. In fact, I never went into the farm again. Few years after that incident, I came to America, and I could not find farm anywhere in my new town. Whenever, I think about my childhood, I cannot help myself from remembering that day when I sneaked into the berry bush farm. I can still smell the sweet aroma of the berries and feel the summer breeze in my hair. Then, I grow nostalgic for the past. Sometimes I wish that I find myself covered in the crimson fruit again.