Kracker's Hill

Every day at three thirty, Monday to Friday, John Burianhan used to stand outside our old school, St. Mary’s High in Sheffield, 1979-85. With one hand leant on his rusting scooter and the other stretched out, he said the same words to me day after day after day; “You wanna’ ride down Kracker’s Hill?”

It was this insane incline from our school at the top, to Orman’s river at the bottom with nothing but a few signs and rocks to try and stop you falling in. You know... a daredevils place. No one had ever ridden down it on a bike or scooter; it was a big deal at our school if you could - without dying.

That hill might have been the destruction of me.

John was always a tall boy, he had quaffed blonde hair and green, shining eyes, which I remember and can recreate in my mind whenever. He was known for his scooter, which he never was seen without. Popularity wasn’t hard for him, stupidity came easy, but his mind was something to be feared.

So yes…  Every day after school he’d wait for me in hope that I would ride with him on his scooter down Kracker’s Hill…I never did. At the time I thought it was a joke, he was picking on me because I was the shyest girl at school and he wanted to see me get hurt so he could laugh with his friends. I was young, what did I know? It never occurred to me that he might have liked me.

 To this day not accepting his invitation is my biggest regret.

As we grew he never gave up with his routine, and I never gave up with mine. I used to think – now surely he can’t be that dedicated to embarrass me, surely he could find someone else to pick on, but no, he never stopped. Some of my old friends may have pointed out to me that he could have been madly in love with me but I never took any notice. I used to say; “If he loves me, why not ask me out?”

The most confusing lad he was.

However, on the last day of our penultimate year at school, me and my two best friends charged out with some excellent exam grades, we were so happy, but John, oh John had to ruin it.

He stood, his grip firmly on one handle of his scooter, and as per usual, the other stretched out. My smile faded to a look of pure annoyance, as Mary, my friend described it as.

“Deb. Every day you’ve said no to my offer. It’s our last day until after summer, so I’m begging you; ride down Kracker’s Hill with me! Just this once. I’m never ever, ever going to ride down it unless you’re with me.”

These were last words I heard come out of John’s mouth.