Night of Rage

Vicki was a vulnerable teenager at a vulnerable time -- springtime.  It had been a particularly bad winter in her hometown in Colorado.  Walking slowly through the shade and sunlight of a tree-lined street after getting out of St. Mary’s High School, a coed Catholic high school in rural Colorado.  She felt more like a kid than someone struggling to be adult.  She noticed flowers that were blooming, the birds that were singing, and that came alive in spring more than on other days.  At a playground, children played, while mothers gathered together watching and talking.  As she passed the playground, she thought  about the day she might be a mother.  Once past, she remembered Sister Mary telling the students to thank God every day in their prayers and pray for good things to happen to them every day.  Vicki, feeling like a happy child, obeyed Sister Mary and thanked God for all the good things she saw around her.

Vicki, an only child, was a sophomore in high school.  She had become her mother’s pride.  She took more after here deceased father’s looks and had blossomed this spring into an usually pretty girl, with large brown eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and a beautiful smile.  Though more studious than some of the other girls, she felt herself noticing the older boys and discovered it delightful when they stopped what they were doing to watch her walk by.  Her girlfriends fell into a teenage rivalry with her over the boys, envying her beauty and became very jealous of the boys giving her more attention.  There were a couple of girls who just hated walking with her because they knew, when the boys whistled, it was for Vicki, not for them.

Walking still on her way home, the whistle behind her startled her.  When she turned around, she immediately recognized it came from a teenage boy she secretly had a crush on.  She remembered it was only recently she realized what was happening.  Previous to having seen him, she went around laughing at boys and letting them play around like young idiots, which she often considered them to be.

That boy had been admiring her for weeks.  He was not shy to meet her, but he wanted to do it on his terms.  Since she walked home most of the way with her friends, he started to follow them.  He didn’t waste any time, when it came to pretty girls.  After the girls branched off in different directions, he had continued following her from a distance to find out where she lived.  At school, he stopped near her and gave her an intense Elvis Presley-type stare that certainly caught her attention.  He was sure she had never taken a liking to boys before.

“Hi, Victoria,” he said, walking faster to catch up.

“How do you know my name?” she asked smiling, after stopping.

“I asked a friend of mine who the pretty girl was and he told me,” he said.

“Okay, now that you know my name, what’s yours?”

“My name’s Jack.”

She gave him a funny look and asked in a teasing voice, “You mean Jack the Ripper?”

“Hey, that’s me,” he said teasingly and started for her with both arms outstretched.

She leaned away, as if frightened, but smiled playfully.  Feeling shy, she turned and started home, but she made sure she walked slowly.  Jack walked along with her and started talking about school.

As they neared her house, Vicki’s mother was at the window anticipating her arrival at any moment.  Since Vicki’s father had died suddenly a year ago, she felt more protective and worried until she got home.

“I have to go, Jack.  Maybe I’ll see you in school tomorrow,” Vicki said, smiling.

“Okay,” Jack said.

He watched as Vicki ran into the house.  After she went in, he continued walking, giving himself a cocky nod that he had made contact with the prettiest girl in school.

After closing the door behind her, Vicki called out a quick,“Hi Mom!”  She had seen her mother at the window in her usual Monday through Friday after-school vigil.  Not stopping, she ran up the steps straight to her room, tossed her books on her de