Nobody Loves Me
“Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I think I’ll go eat worms.”
When I heard the scruffy looking stranger wandering down the dark lane past my house, singing that old line in a loud and muddled voice, I thought of old Joey Hill and the games Trevor and I played with him when we were kids. Before the days of Nintendo and MTV when a kid had to fall back on his own devices for entertainment on long summer days, we made great sport of poor Joey. We had known him less than a year, the big retarded kid who lived at the far end of row six in Hidden Village Trailer Park, just a few houses down from me.
Joey was eleven years old that summer, Trevor and I only seven and eight, but we understood the pecking order. He was bigger than us, but with the brain of a baby and a trust
