I was driving a van full of students back from a drama competition, and we were still two hours from home. It was late and the kids were trying to sleep, but we had Martin Brown and Kristy Hanks in the van.
Martin Brown and Kristy Hanks were without question, the two loudest kids in school. Martin Brown was senior, a large kid with an even larger mouth who couldn’t stay out of trouble for more than a few days. He was a gifted actor, completely fearless and quick-witted, and in those days I was desperately trying to harness his energy towards something good. Kristy Hanks was just as loud and every bit as fearless. She was a star athlete, a good student, a tom-boy with grace, a 15-year old girl with unparalleled self-confidence. Kristy grew up on a ranch and had that sturdy way about her that comes from moving cattle at 5 a.m. on school mornings and working hard for what you have.
Everyone was trying to sleep, except Kristy Hanks and Martin Brown who were playfully arguing until something Kristy said made Martin mad and he got mean. He was accustomed to being mean when he was uncomfortable. But a strange thing happened when he got mean with Kristy. She didn’t care. She was fearless and confident and unaffected which unnerved him. Martin tried and tried to upset Kristy with his words, but she just laughed, every comment increasing her laughter. Eventually, Martin was too frustrated to do anything except pout and try to sleep. I tried to intervene, but it was difficult to know who to reprimand–Martin for being mean or Kristy for antagonizing.
Kristy wouldn’t let Martin sleep. “Martin, why are you so quiet?” “Hey Martin, are you sleeping?” “Martin what’s wrong, why aren’t you talking any more?” “Hey Martin what happened?” After each question, Kristy laughed with glee until I finally had to tell her to leave him alone.
We stopped for gas, and everyone got out of the van, and Martin was fuming. He had reached a boiling point. Everything that happened next seemed to go in slow motion. From across the parking lot, I saw Kristy with her back to Martin as he snuck up behind her and drew back his thick leg as far as it would go. He swung his leg forward in an attempt to kick Kristy Martin–hard. I ran quickly towards them, opening up my mouth to scream at him to stop, knowing I wouldn’t make it in time. But Kristy was an athlete, a ranch-girl with quick reflexes.
Before I could utter a word, in one truly glorious move, Kristy turned, caught Martin’s kicking foot in her arms and swept his other leg out from beneath him with her foot. Martin fell to the ground, and Kristy dove on top of him. She looped her arms around him, pulling his head to his leg in a half-nelson, pinning him to the ground. Martin flailed and bucked, and Kristy held him like a calf she’d just roped, her arms flexing with all her might. ”Say you’re sorry, Martin! Tell me you’re sorry for trying to kick me!” Kristy shreiked in pure delight. I was trying to tell her to let him up, but it was all happening so quickly. It was then that Martin’s red briefs poked out from his pants. Seizing the moment, Kristy grabbed hold. “Tighty reddies!” (as opposed to “tighty whities”) she exclaimed as she gave the briefs a tug. “Martin’s wearing his tighty reddies. Why don’t you call that girl you like and tell her you’re wearing your tighty reddies!”
Martin struggled wildly to get loose and screamed profanity which only made Kristy tighten her grip. Doubled over in laughter, between breaths, I told Kristy to let him go and she did. Martin was understandably inconsolable. I finished getting gas, and we continued on our way. I drove in silence. For about 15 minutes. We had the two loudest kids in the school in our van, and neither of them could stay quiet for long.
