"Be safe, kiddo. Lock the door behind you," he gave her a big kiss and he was off on his way. "Good luck, Dad!" Debbie shouted after her father. She had a few quiet minutes left to herself. She gave the rest of her oatmeal to the family dog, a small and cute Yorkshire terrier, and she poured herself a bowl of Reese's puffs. Her dad kept them hidden way in the back of the cupboard, behind a bunch of old dry goods. Her mom was a health nut, and he would never let on that when she was gone at work he was chowing down on sugary sweet kid's cereal. But Debbie knew most her dad's secrets. He was a great guy, but he was a bit absent minded and his love for Debbie covered all sins. She poured herself a big bowl, picked up the unread newspaper on the table, and chomped on some peanut buttery goodness while she read the New York Times Monday edition, feeling like a real grown up.
Debbie was only eleven, and it was actually truly amazing how mature she was. A lot of eleven year olds couldn't even fold a newspaper properly to read it, but Debbie had watched her parents do it a hundred times and she knew how to imitate them. She was a resident of Springfield, Massachusetts. She lived in one of the most liberal, well educated states in the entire U.S. and she was no dummy. Although less well-known than Boston or Cambridge, Springfield was actually the third largest city in Boston, and the fourth largest city in New England. Known as The City of Firsts, Springfield was also the birth place of basketball, invested by James Naismith. The Basketball Hall of Fame is located in the city as a celebration and remembrance of the beloved game's history. It was, generally speaking, a safe place to live and grow up. In recent years the number of dope fiends had been on the rise, but they were usually located closer to the city's large bus terminal and far away from Debbie's scenic suburban sprawl. It would only be long after Debbie left her home town that the heroin epidemic spread into the wealthy suburbs and overtook the entire city. For now, it was idyllic—a great place to raise a family. Dr. Seuss, better known as Theodor Geisel, had been born in Springfield, and as a toddler Debbie remembered his colorful cartoons on her wall. She had grown out of the Lorax and the Cat in the Hat since then and her wall was now painted a bright yellow and had pictures of her favorite teen idols hanging on it.
She was a real grown up, alright, and now it was her chance to really prove it walking to school all by herself. Debbie knew the route well. It was a nice little walk that took her through the local park. Harmless in every way. She finished up her last bite of chocolate peanut butter puffs, gave the Yorkie the milk to lap up (forgetting dog's really shouldn't be eating cacao), and neatly folded the newspaper. She rinsed off the cereal and oatmeal bowls, put them in the dishwasher, pulled out her spare set of keys from the kitchen drawer, and got ready for her day. Backpack, check. Number 2 pencils, check. Homework, check, check. She was ready to go! Just as she was setting to head out, she heard the phone ring. It was a loud ring, it seemed to convey a sense of urgency, almost knocking the kitchen phone off of the wall. Debbie had been taught never to answer the phone when her parents were not there. Although she had been taught to always say her mommy or daddy was in the shower if someone came to the door while they were gone, they thought it was best to not even risk answering the phone. But something about the shrillness of the ringing made Debbie go ahead.
"Hello, Brown residence," Debbie answered. "Debbie, oh sweetie, I am glad you picked up!" It was her dad on the other end, his voice sounded worried and choked up. "What's wrong, Dad?" His voice sounded tearful, "I was just hoping to catch you before you go off to school. I'm worried about you. Are you sure you are okay? Should I call the neighbor, Miss Munn, and have her walk you over?" Debbie reassured her dad she was fine. She couldn't believe he was crying over this. "Don't worry about me dad, get into that meeting! I will be fine!" Her dad marveled at how mature his little girl was. She was really growing up. He had been so distracted that morning he hadn't even noticed that she was also really growing out. "I love you Debbie boo boo," he told her, giving a kiss sound into the receiver. "Love you too, dad," Debbie told him before hanging up and heading out the door.
It was a beautiful, warm day outside. The sun was already up in the sky beaming down brightly on the denizens of Springfield. A picture perfect day for the first walk to school on her own. Debbie smiled. Had she grown up today, she might have pulled out her cell phone to take a selfie. She would have posted it on Instagram with the hash tag #AllGrownUp. But this was long before Instagram, so she took a photo in her mind.
Debbie was off on her way, whistling a theme song from her favorite television show as she walked, admiring all of the New England beauty around her. When she got to the park, she was excited to see some of the most popular boys at the school were there, including Greg Taylor. Debbie had a bit of a crush on Greg. He was one of the hottest guys in the local middle school and when Debbie went on walks with her dad or met her girl friends to play in the park they would often stop and watch Greg and his friends if they were out playing basketball. When they were lucky they boys would take off their shirts. That was usually when her dad remembered that they needed to go home and feed the dog or some other silly chore. The basketball court was surrounded by two high cement walls, and as Debbie got closer she saw that the boys were not playing a morning session of hoops. They were crouched low to the ground in a huddle.
Wondering what they were looking at and secretly fearing it was some sort of dead animal or a poor frog they were poking with sticks, Debbie neared the boys. They all lived together in the small neighborhood and they knew who Debbie was. As she approached, Greg looked up and greeted her. "Hey there, Debbie, right?" he asked. Debbie blushed, happy that the cool kids knew her name. "Why don't you come over here? I want to show you something." The boys weren't looking at any dead animal, they were looking at some live beaver. One of the boys had found a Playboy magazine in his dad's den, and he had brought it out to share with his chums.
Debbie was hesitant. Something about the boys' smiles made her shiver. She didn't know what it was exactly, but something seemed off. There was a feeling of danger and tension in the air, and a smelly musk, the scent young males generate when they are both highly aroused and aware they are breaking the rules. "Ummm," Debbie hesitated, "I don't know. My dad told me to go straight to school. Maybe I will see you guys later," she murmured. Her sixth sense was activated and she was feeling a bit scared. "Oh come on, Debbie," Greg encouraged her, "you got some time to get to school. I'll walk with you, in fact. But we just want to show you something cool." Greg looked so handsome and the word cool clicked off the alarm in Debbie's brain like magic. Cool. Of course she wanted to be cool. What little girl didn't want to be cool?
"Okay," Debbie said, walking over to the group. She was shocked by what she saw. It was a magazine full of women. They looked like the women on the cover of that magazine she had found hidden in her dad's car, but these women didn't have on anything more than socks and some skimpy underwear. They had big tits hanging out like udders. Debbie looked around in a panic, and she noticed the boys' pants were all tight with some sort of lump bulging in them. "Umm, I gotta go," she said in a hoarse voice and broke into a brisk trot away from the boys. She had thought they were such nice kids. What on earth were they doing? She wasn't sure, but she knew she wanted to get away from those bulging khakis.
Before she could get too far, Debbie felt hands on her wrists. Then a pair of arms around her waists. Two of the boys had grabbed her arms and Greg was hugging her from behind. "Come on, Debbie," Greg chided as they pulled her towards the cement wall. The boys pushed Debbie against the wall and then cornered her, forming a tight semi-circle around her. Their eyes looked hungry and animalistic, their pants looked like they were about to pop in the same way Debbie's top was bulging at the seams. "You've got some nice titties," Greg told her, lifting up her blazer and revealing the embarrassing shirt snafu beneath. "Shit," one of the boys said, touching his boner through his pants, "they don't even fit in your shirt, girl!"
"Let us see your tits," Greg demanded. His frie
nds were practically drooling at the thought of seeing big titties, maybe even touching one, in real life. At least one of them probably came in his boxers just at the thought of it. "No way!" Debbie yelled and tried to break away. She was feeling really panicked now and she wished her daddy was there to protect her. She felt resentment and hate welling up inside of her. She tried to push her way free from the circle of boys but found it impossible. They grabbed her arms and clawed at her shirt. Tears were springing up in her eyes for real this time and she couldn't hold them back. She was about to be molested by a bunch of pubescent monsters and her daddy was nowhere to be found.
Greg approached Debbie and was abou to undo the buttons on her blouse when there was a loud voice from behind the boys. "Let her go, right now," the voice commanded. It was Helen. Helen was an older classmate of Debbie. She was fifteen years old, and stood almost as tall as the boys who had surrounded the younger girl. She pushed her way through the stupid boys and got right in Greg's face, grabbing his arm and twisting it back hard. "What the fuck do you think you're doing pencil dick?" she asked, right up in his face. Greg pushed her, starting a confrontation. "What the fuck are you going to do about it?" He asked, breathing heavily on her. Helen laughed, puffing up and standing tall. She wasn't scared or intimidated by these dip shits. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Greg," she answered, "I'm going to take my right foot, spin, and kick you in the face so hard you won't get up until next week. And as for the rest of you boys," she looked to the boys on her right, "I'm going to kick you all so hard in the nuts you will wish you were born a girl." Turning to the boys on her left she told them, "I hope you numb nuts have enough sense to run after you see what I have done to your friends. And if not, I'm going to kick your ass just for shits and giggles." Greg laughed defiantly. What was some girl going to do to him?
Then it all went down. With lightening speed Helen did a sweeping kick, spinning quickly, he foot, which was encased in steel toed black leather shoes, connected smack dab with the middle of Greg's face, easily breaking his nose and sending blood flying through the air. He went down with a thud. Without even taking a second to stop or take a breath, she turned towards the boys on her right and began aiming swift, solid kicks that landed right in their nuts. They wouldn't be jacking off to stolen porno magazines for a long time. They fell to the ground grabbing their tummies and howling in pain. When she swiveled to the crowd of boys on the left she had found that they had broken into a run. "Good," Helen said. "At least some of you boys have some brains."
Debbie was cowering against the wall in fear and awe. Boy, she wished she had just taken her dad up on his offer to drive her to school. So he would have been late for his meeting, oh well. It was too late for that now, though. Helen extended her hand to Debbie, and Debbie grabbed it. Helen pulled her in for a big hug. "Don't worry, everything is okay," she whispered in Debbie's ear, tousling her hair playfully. She asked Debbie if she was okay, but Debbie was in complete shock. She opened her mouth but she found that no words were coming out. She mouthed the word yes, but it was just a stream of air. Debbie nodded, trembling. Helen could see everything was not okay, and she took out her cell phone, an early prototype she had been given by her father who worked in the communication technology industry, and called 911.
As the girls waited for the police to arrive a small crowd gathered in the basketball court. It was a crowd of local community members who had been walking their dogs or taking a good old New England morning jog through the park and had noticed a crowd of kids laying on the black top. Now, crowds don't tend to be the most intelligent things on the planet, and this crowd was no different. Although they were adults, they just milled around with their mouths wide open not taking any action or doing anything to help. They just stood there and watched like sheep until the police rolled up and took charge of the situation.
A young female cop approached Debbie and Helen, the only two children who weren't knocked out on the basketball court, and asked them what happened. Debbie tried to speak and struggled. The cop asked for a bottle of water, and someone handed Debbie some water. Helen opened the bottle and instructed Debbie to take some deep gulps. Once she had refreshed herself and her fear-parched throat, Debbie spoke. She told the police how the boys had taken her and pinned her against the wall and tried to molest her. Then Helen had shown up and saved her. The cop nodded and alternated between taking notes and comforting Debbie.
"Thanks for being so brave and telling us what happened," the cop told Debbie with one hand on her shoulder. "We will make sure these bad boys are taken care of, okay?" Debbie nodded. The boys were escorted into police vehicles. They weren't handcuffed, they were too young to be treated like hardened criminals, but they would be taken down to the precinct and interrogated. Most of them would be let go with a stern warning and a promise from their parents that they would be severely punished. Greg was charged with loitering and was sentenced to twenty hours of community service.
Back on the basketball court, the female cop was congratulating Helen on looking out for a younger school mate. She promised Helen she would be receiving an award in the mail from the police chief commending her bravery. Then she offered to drive the girls to school in her police car. Before Debbie could say yes, Helen intervened. She told the lady cop that she was going to make sure that Debbie got to school safe. "Don't worry, I can handle it," Helen said, ever the mature little lady. The cop agreed, but secretly she kept a close eye on them by tailing them in her patrol car.
Helen took Debbie's hand and off they went to school. Debbie felt very relieved to have the older girl taking her the rest of the way to her school, and she was in awe of this amazing youngster who had taken down the gaggle of horny boys. Helen was about a head taller than Debbie, but she didn't have a tough look to her. She was dainty and sweet, with long brown hair with some natural light highlights, bright and wide blue eyes, and pouty pink lips. She was no big and beefy, she looked closer to a ballet dancer than a boxer. Debbie wanted to ask her how she had managed to take down all of those guys, but before she had the chance, Helen was giving her a stern word of advice. "Debbie, you are a cute little girl, and the older you get the more attractive you will be. But that isn't necessarily a good thing. This is a hard world full of bad men that can't control themselves around cute girls in a uniform." Debbie nodded when she heard this, thinking about that magazine she had found in her dad's car. Maybe even her beloved dad had a weakness for a cute girl in a uniform. This made her frown on the outside, and deep inside she felt a bit hurt and broken. "You need to know how to defend yourself, honey," Helen told her. "Then you won't have to worry so much. If you know how to defend yourself, you can feel free as a beautiful girl."
Debbie nodded again. "I've known those guys for years. I have watched them play basketball a lot." She blushed a deep red, "to be honest, I always had a crush on Greg. But not anymore." Helen bobbed her head in agreement, "yep, you see! It is always good to know a little self defense. Even the nicest seeming guys can turn nasty. You have to know how to put them in there place." Debbie agreed with her. "But how did you learn to do all that stuff you did back there?" she asked. "That was amazing!" Helen was happy for the compliment, and she smiled. "Well, what I did back there is martial arts. It is called Wing Chun, and I have been studying it as a hobby for a long time. But the thing about Wing Chun is that you are not supposed to show off with it and you can only use it when necessary. That's why no one even knows I can do that stuff. Well, until now. I'm sure everyone will be talking about what happened on the basketball court for a long time!" Helen blushed a little bit, feeling both proud of her skills and a bit sad that now her secret was out.
"Wing Chun?" Debbie murmured, testing the unfamiliar words on her tongue. "What on earth is that?!" Helen explained to Debbie all about Wing Chun. "I found a book on it when I was just a little kid. Wing Chun is a special martial art that was invented by a woman hundreds of years ago. It got its name from her, she was called Yim Wing Chun and she
trained at the famous Southern yard of the Shaolin temple. She was supposed to be married to a local war lord, but she didn't wanna do it. So she told him that if he could beat her in a fight she would marry him but otherwise no way. Of course she kicked his ass!"
"How did she know how to fight like that?" Debbie asked. Helen told her that the woman had run into a Buddhist nun during her travels. The nun, named Ng Mui, was a survivor of a super secret Shaolin sect. The nun taught Yim a special style of fighting based on the snake and the crane. After Yim took down the nasty war lord and married her lover Leung Bok-Chau, she started teaching the fighting technique and it got the name Wing Chun from her."
"Hmmm," Debbie said. "That's cool, but you don't look like a fighter to be honest." Helen nodded. "That is one of the elements of Wing Chun. It is a type of Kung Fu and like most martial arts you aren't supposed to look like a beef cake. In Wing Chun, you surprise your enemy with your softness and by looking like you are not a formidable opponent. Then you can kick their ass because they have let their guard down! Shaolin monks in China even used Wing Chun to resist the government. It is a really cool, mysterious history!"
"That sounds super cool," Debbie told Helen, looking at her with deep admiration. "I want to learn Wing Chun too!" she said. Helen told her that if she asked her parents and got permission they could take lessons together at the local martial arts academy. "That's awesome!" Debbie said, and promised to ask her parents as soon as she got home. "So, do you want to grow up to be a professional martial artist?" Debbie asked Helen. "Nah," Helen replied. "When I grow up I want to write screenplays for Hollywood movies and live in L.A.!" Debbie was a bit let down by this response, but she tried not to let it show. "What about you, Little Debbie?" Helen asked, chuckling at this nickname, "what are you going to do when you grow up?" Excitedly, Debbie told her, "I'm going to learn how to kick ass like you! Then, I'm going to go to an Ivy League school, and once I graduate I am going to become the first female Navy Seal! The I am going to join the CIA and kick ass all over the world as a super awesome spy. I'm going to be one of the good guys and fight all the bad people!" "Oh my," Helen laughed. Debbie was red in the face with excitement. "Well, if you are going to go to the Ivy League, you better head off to class and get good grades, Debbie," Helen told her. They had arrived in front of Debbie's school. The two girls said goodbye with a hug.
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