Twist (2 page)

“Okay,” Johnny said. “I will make it twice as hard.”

“Whatever,” Kevin replied, not actually believing Johnny would do it, but accepting his fate. A black wave of panic crept into his heart, but he shook it off as childish fear. Fear of the dark unknown.

“I dare you to sit on the train tracks,” Johnny said.

“That’s easy!” It was easy, but now that Kevin said it—he was sorry. Johnny’s face showed it was a mistake.

“I’m not through giving the dare yet,” Johnny said. “Sit on them until the train comes down the tunnel.”

“That’s too easy Johnny,” Jimmy moaned.

“You Dork!” Johnny snapped. “I’m still not done. Kevin, I’ll put you on the tracks with your back to the tunnel. You can’t move until I tell you to.”

“No way,” Billy yelled. “That’s too risky. Don’t do it Kevin.” An undulating tremor rose in Billy’s words. “Pick something else.”

“No way. Either Kevin does it or he’s out of the gang. It’s up to him.” Johnny put his arms together over his chest—a sign of power that meant “do it or suffer the consequences.”

Several minutes of quiet deliberation followed. Kevin decided to try it. Johnny would get nervous the moment he saw the train’s light at the back of the tunnel, then tell Kevin to move, giving him ample time to get off the tracks. “Okay, I’ll do it. When?” A couple days of preparation time would be nice.

“Now. Right now, before you chicken out,” Johnny said.

“But Kevin…what if…?”

“Billy,” Kevin cut him off, “I’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

A half-hour later the boys walked to the tunnel site. Johnny positioned Kevin two yards from the tunnel mouth. Placing Kevin on the tracks—not on the metal rails—but on the gravel between two railway ties, with his legs crossed.

“Kevin, don’t do this. Please,” Billy pleaded. The sound of his begging was like an incessant buzzing bee.

“Let him be,” Tony said. Then he pushed Billy.

Kevin yelled, “Leave him be, or I’m not doing it.”

Johnny saw defiance on Kevin’s face. “Yeah, leave him alone Tony.”

The incident ended. Kevin seated on the train tracks, sensed the excited tension running through the group. No doubt, Johnny did also. Which made it important to Johnny. “You know, if I do this…,” Kevin saw his opportunity in this situation, so he let the idea of not completing the dare linger for a minute. “…then I’ll never have to do another dare. None.”

“No way,” Johnny said instantly. His face said that wasn’t true.

Just then the ground began to rumble. The 5:30 train would be five minutes early, making the 7:30 early as well.

“I won’t do it then,” Kevin said, getting to his feet.

At that moment Billy’s face changed from being screwed up tight to the calm, happy-go-lucky face Kevin knew well. An insupportable weight looked to have been lifted from his soul.

“Wimp,” said Tony. Johnny followed, then Jimmy. Their tone indicated disappointment, a sense of loss, an anticlimax, like the anticlimax at the end of a roller coaster ride.

Johnny knew that if Kevin didn’t follow through with the dare the other boys would lose the thrill. That would make them lose faith in him as their leader. Kevin knew it too. Since they all had to be home for dinner by 6 or 6:30 this would be the only time Kevin could attempt the dare that evening. After today, the dare would lose its excitement, because things did that the next day. It was like going to the ballpark and seeing a double header where your team won both games, then trying to retell it with the excitement you felt, the next day. Impossible.

“Okay,” Johnny said, seeming to understand all these things innately. “This is your last dare, as long as you don’t move until I tell you to.”

Though the boys grumbled about the concession, they talked animatedly about the dare.

“He’ll never stay,” Jimmy said.

“Yes I will.”

Billy turned ashen, his demeanor was that of a condemned man about to face the firing squad.

The train grew closer, rumbling along, making the steel tracks vibrate with energy. Kevin could feel it against his gym shoes. The tremors grew stronger and stronger. Pebbles laying on the ground nearby started doing little dances.

Johnny rushed over and pushed Kevin to his butt again. “There—wait for my signal.”

Kevin sat, stunned. His butt hit a large sharp stone upon landing. Stretching his legs out, he massaged the tender spot on his butt cheek.

The train’s horn blasted from down the tunnel. The sound floated to them, tumbling through the tunnel and somersaulting into their laps. Their excited words grew more hurried as they waited.

Adrenaline shot into Kevin’s system. His heart trip-hammered in his chest. The ground moved beneath him—he imagined a stampeding elephant charging toward him from behind. The recent butt bruise no longer throbbed—only his heart did—it was the apex of that roller coaster ride. The top hill, he knew. Soon the ride would be over. Nothing else existed; him and the train.

“Kevin, please,” Billy whined again, fear spilling over in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Kevin yelled, pulled from his world of utter excitement. His voice was nothing next to the train sounds coming from the tunnel.

The train hit its horn again. Its echo reverberated down the tunnel. Startled by it, Kevin jumped. At least he tried to. Still seated, instead he just kicked out.

“There it is…I see the lights,” Jimmy said excitedly. “It won’t be long now.”

“Please. It’s not safe,” Billy begged. His face was a mask of misery, of guilt. It was full of all those things Kevin saw in his parents’ faces—adult issues.

Kevin would not move. “No.” This was his moment, the time when all the boys learned to respect him, to even admire him. It might be the chance he needed to become popular, more so than Johnny.

“I see…see…see…them too.” Tony’ s words stuttered out like machine gun fire. His excitement bubbling into fear made his stutter worse.

“Cool,” Jimmy said, staring at the open mouth of the tunnel.

It wouldn’t be long now, Kevin knew. Johnny would tell him to move any time. Placing his hands flat on the ground, palm side down, he started to get ready. This would allow him to push himself to his feet quickly.

He saw sweat glistening on Billy’s forehead. The other boys were behind him now as the train got louder, obviously watching with anticipation as the vehicle grew closer. Billy stared at Kevin with sad and confused eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” Kevin said, trying to ease Billy’s fear. It sounded like a whisper, though he was shouting.

Getting ready to jump up and run from the tracks, Kevin tried repositioning his legs by pulling them toward himself. The left one came easily. The right one did not. His foot was jammed under the wooden tie of the tracks. He tried pulling, pushing, even untying his gym shoe to get it free. Then he tried again. His foot wouldn’t budge.

“Move,” Johnny screamed, over the roar of the train.

Kevin realized the error of his previous assumption, because Johnny hadn’t just waited until the very last moment. He had waited longer. Probably because Johnny wanted to make it good, being Kevin’s last dare and all. The train had to be about halfway through the tunnel to make this much rumbling and noise, Kevin knew. Much too close. Especially now that his damned foot was caught. He yanked at it, pulled. Nothing. Even tugged at the cloth. His nails ripping across the material made a tiny scratching sound. He could feel it more than hear it. The sound of the train—too close now—thundered in the air.

“Help! Help!” Kevin screamed. It came out, but was lost in the general din of the train. The other boys didn’t hear it, no one saw the exasperated look on his face, and he couldn’t point to his leg to explain. Desperately he tugged at his leg again trying to twist it free.

Billy turned to look at Kevin one last time.

Kevin yelled again, “Help me. I’m stuck.” He was going to die. Billy couldn’t hear him either—the knowledge made him sick, and weak inside. His stomach ached, his bladder hurt. He was only ten years old. Sweat poured down his face.

Kevin’s mouth moved, but nothing came out—Billy saw—so he moved over toward his friend. Kevin pointed to his right foot.

Billy ran over to the other boys, trying to gain some help. Any help. They didn’t respond so he ran back and tried to free his friend. The other boys watched in stunned disbelief as Billy tried to wrench Kevin’s foot free. Billy tried everything, twisting, turning, pulling the foot. Kevin’s pants ripped, giving the impression his foot was free. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t.

Finally, Billy tried pulling at the wood. Nothing worked. Kevin’s foot was wedged. Jammed tightly in place.

The train sounded close. Billy ran over to the others again. “Help me!” he screamed in their faces. Anything to break their silent trance. They stood rapt in shock. Billy ran back to Kevin. Spotting a piece of wood lying nearby, he grabbed it up, shoved it under the board where Kevin’s foot was lodged, and put all his weight onto it, trying to pry Kevin’s foot free. Nothing.

Billy, too afraid to see how close the train was, because if he saw he might freeze up, worked quickly. Pushing with all his might on the board again, using all his weight, might help move the lever. The force he exerted was tremendous, especially considering his age and size. Like a mother lifting a car off her trapped toddler, adrenaline made Billy strong.

Kevin cried in agony as his foot came loose, toes snapping like firecrackers from the force of Billy’s lever. No one heard them except Kevin. He didn’t care. His foot was free.

Kevin stood up, leaning away from that foot. Before he knew what was happening, Billy shoved him hard to the right. Then the train came crashing through, rushing by inches from Kevin’s prone body.

The train moved slow—for a train—due to the oppressive darkness of the tunnel. The train conductor didn’t see the boys who were situated just outside the tunnel. Coming from such darkness into such bright light was blinding. At the last moment he applied the brakes. Too late.

Billy Hawkins’ body was struck, throwing him two hundred feet from the accident scene. He was pronounced dead on arrival. Billy’s parents and friends attended the funeral, where the gang mourned the loss of a truly brave boy.

Kevin’s right foot had four broken bones. His parents never allowed him to see the other boys again after Billy’s funeral.

Later that year, the state paved a street across the tracks close to the same location as the fatal accident. Billy’s parents, with some of their loyal friends, lobbied the city to rename the street after their dead son. They never succeeded. Though their efforts did get Billy’s’ heroism into the local paper, the street remained Elm Street. Everyone thanked the newspaper for immortalizing Billy Hawkins. A true hero.

* * *

Kevin went on to become a successful real estate broker. A short time after the accident, Kevin’s parents moved away from his roots to a large suburb of Los Angeles. It was easier than dealing with all the looks from their neighbors. And seeing the sorrow in Billy’s parents’ faces, after having lost their only child.

There was only one person who seemed not to blame Kevin. Billy’s best friend at the time, Beth Sierra. Over the last twenty-five years they remained in contact—writing back and forth. Kevin had grown closer to her than to some of his so-called good friends.

“Twenty-five years have passed. If pressed I can remember parts, but others are blurred. The events have faded in my mind,” he said in answer to her question about how much of the incident he remembered, this on the anniversary of Billy’s death. “It’s almost as if my mind has obliterated details of that day long ago. Like the memories are blurred beneath years of new, sometimes good and sometimes bad experiences, but never any as terrible as I feel that day was. Everything in my life changed from then on.”

“I’m sure it did. You were lucky, you moved away. I heard it all. People said the most awful things. Still, I’m curious about the changes. Were any of them good? I mean, I guess I know about some of them, at least some of the bad ones, but what about the good ones?”

“Sure good things happened to me. I grew up after all. It was a better fate than Billy.”

“Stop that. Don’t go blaming yourself.”

“You’re right. I doubt Billy would have wanted me to. It’s just that today makes me sad.”

“Me too. But don’t blame yourself. Let’s just talk about the good changes in your life since then.”

“Sure. Well, for instance I believe that I never truly liked adventure before that train almost hit me. At least not like I learned to love it. You know this is the first time we’ve really talked about it, which kind of makes me realize how influential that accident truly was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that somehow after Billy died I changed. I mean I always liked carnivals and a little bit of excitement.”

“All kids do.”

“True. But after we moved away I started liking Chinese food.”

“As you get older you start to enjoy things you didn’t,” Beth said.

“That’s true too. But I always hated Chinese. I remember the first time I ate it and liked it. I can’t remember why, but my father had brought some leftover Chinese home from the office. Mother knew better than to serve it to me. I wouldn’t eat it.”

“Picky, picky.”

“Sure was. But for some reason, the next Saturday my mother was out doing the laundry, I think our washer was on the blink, and I had just gotten home from baseball practice at the high school. I was famished. So I dug in the fridge. Low and behold there was the Chinese. I passed it up three times before the smell prompted me to open it. For some reason, even though I always hated the smell, it was intoxicating to me.”

“Intoxicating?” Beth questioned. “Really?”

“Yeah it’s a strong word, but it’s the right one. I ate the food and it was the most delicious stuff I ever tasted. In the middle of it my Mom arrived home. She saw me eating it and stared. Finally she said, ‘You’re eating Moo Shu pork, do you know that?’ I said, ‘Yes. I guess my tastes changed.’ It just floored her to think I would now eat Chinese. And it wasn’t just that I ate it once in awhile, it became a craving of mine. “Then in the middle of sophomore year, all of a sudden, I became left-handed.”