It’s another of my memorable life experiences. I was in San Antonio, Texas, and in the third or fourth grade, so 9 or 10 years old. I had a friend called Kelvin Pryor. He and I were pretty good friends. We lived near each other in a development called Rainbow Hills.
I lived at 447 Maddux Drive. Kelvin lived on the street behind us, on Kernan drive, just at the loop where it turns to Berry Hill Dr.
We were over on the other side of Hunt Lane that day, just messing around with some other friends of ours. I was throwing rocks. I picked up a really big one, that I had to pick up with two hands. I started to fling it, when Kelvin ran in front of where I was throwing the rock. It hit him in the back of the head and he rolled out of the way quickly. He was bleeding from the back of the head pretty bad. Blood was flowing freely from the back of his head. I tried to get him to calm down and stay where he was while I went for help, but as soon as he put his hand on the back of his head and felt the blood, he ran for his bike and started biking home as quickly as he could, screaming and crying (naturally). Me and our other friends were following him as quickly as we could on our bikes, but Kelvin was one of the fastest kids around.
As we were following him, he finally made it into his house. We were halfway over to his house, when a crowd of his friends and family gathered around to see what happened. I tried to explain what happened, but one of our friends just said that I threw a rock at Kelvin. I couldn’t explain what happened well enough, so I said I was going home. I was pretty upset, plus now I was angry at the other kid not backing me up that it was an accident and I didn’t throw the rock deliberately at him.
As I started to ride my bike home, I heard “Get him.”
When I looked around, there was the angry mob of black children chasing after me. I booked it to my house and hid in my room for several hours. My father came in later to say that Kelvin was alright and was telling everyone that it was an accident and I didn’t do it on purpose. He told everyone that he wasn’t angry with me and they shouldn’t be either.
It was quite a memorable experience, though, being chased by 20 or more people intent on kicking your ass. I didn’t figure out until later that half of their reason for not believing it was an accident was because I was white. I honestly didn’t know about racism until some black kids taught it to me. At least it is still just an intellectual understanding of it. I know what it is, but I just can’t understand it.