He was a stupid kid. We were out in the boonies with our
.22 caliber rifles. He set some empty soda cans on railroad tracks and was trying to shoot them from 75 feet away. First shot hit the railway tracks and ricocheted near me. I was 14, and confused as to what had happened. Second shot was the same, and I finally understood what was happening. Before I could respond, he shot again. The bullet ricocheted and hit me in the back. I was instantly in a state of shock. "Stop! You... Shot... Me..." He did stop. I reached back, felt the wound, then looked at my blood soaked hand. Took of my shirt and discovered that the bullet creased (?) my skin, but didn't enter my body. Washed up in a creek before going home. Told nobody about it.