Cowardice

In the fifth grade, I had a friend towards whom I did something horrible. One day during recess, we came across several of the sixth grade boys gathered suspiciously in the little secluded alleyway that ran along one of the sides of the school. As we snuck in closer, we witnessed two of the boys dancing with one another, hand-in-hand, while another boy watched and gave advice.

My friend and I found this whole scene highly entertaining and were unable to suppress our laughter from reaching the ears of the boys in the alleyway. Pat was by no means amused when he realized we had been spying on him and -after explaining quite insistently that he simply didn't know how to dance and was learning some steps to impress his date at the upcoming prom- he made us promise not to tell anyone else about the entire incident on threat of physical pain. Pat also happened to be the de facto tough guy at our school, which at once made the incident all the funnier and his threat all the more real. We ran off giggling nervously after promising not to say a word.

As soon as we were out of sight, though, we quickly forgot about the threat and couldn't spill the beans fast enough. Rumors spread fast in the playground, and by the end of recess news had already gone full circle back to Pat. He caught us both near the end of the line at the doors back into school and pushed my friend hard against the brick wall. With a raised fist and a red face, he told my friend he should have kept his mouth shut. My friend, scared, looked at me rather pleadingly and told Pat that I was the one who had talked. When Pat looked at me and asked if this was true, I denied it, and so Pat beat up my friend as I watched.

Afterwards, shame paralyzed me from doing anything. I stood over my friend helplessly, like a post, a he sat against the wall crying. Finally, he pulled himself off the ground and walked back into the school without meeting my eyes.

What was the horrible thing I did? I lied. I was the one who had talked. My friend would have talked if I hadn't, but I was the one who actually talked first. I lied, and it was out of pure fear and self-protection. I knew Pat would take my word over his because my friend was the goofy type that naturally drew suspicion and I was the straight arrow, the impeccably polite kid who always excelled in school. My friend was none of those things. As my friend called me out and Pat paused mid-punch to hear my response, it was on me in that moment to either accept or pass off the consequences for my actions. I was afraid, and my twitch reflex was to do whatever would make the threat go away. Like a deer in the headlights, I spurted out denial.

While I have since done many more shameful things, this was the first time in my life that I compromised my integrity to the point of feeling fundamentally wrong about not just the actions that I had done but about myself for having the capacity to commit those actions. I have done many worse things, but the wholly self-serving cowardice behind the lie made it horrible, unbearable.