I Was One of the Lucky Ones, Part I

It was 1969 and I was in ninth grade. One afternoon I walked up to the neighborhood pharmacy to browse through the magazines: Seventeen, Glamour, the usual sstuff that appeals to a 14 year old girl. When I glanced at my watch I thought, "I am going to get it. Now it's dark out and I will be late for dinner." So I hurried out of the store saying a quick Goodbye over my shoulder to Mrs. Dalton and started to walk home.

My first block was on Queen Anne Avenue in front of the upper QA Safeway, I where near the far end of the block (and parking lot) when a guy said from his parked car, "Hey, do you want a ride?" I glanced up and politely replied, "No, thanks," and continued on my way.

One block further, I was in front of the QA Thriftway, when again, at the end of the block ( and the end of the parking lot) the same guy was parked and yelled out of his window, "Are you sure you don't want a ride?" I stopped, looked up at him and said "Yes. I am sure." But now I am acutely aware that he was following me, watching me, and I am his potential target. I guess this is why my parents want me to not be out alone after dark.

What to do? What to do?

I took a left and decided to head to the recreation center one block down on First Avenue West. I continued down that block and was glad to hear some kids' voices ahead. But, that was, much to my dismay, because the center had just closed and they were heading home, and were about a half block ahead of me across the field. I called out to them, but they couldn't hear me over their own conversation with each other. I had three 1/2 blocks to go before I reached home.

To be continued...