Will. A goof. A story to tell everyone back at school.
Our trip to the Twilight Zone.
“B-but then what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked.
Narrio rubbed his chin. He had a shadow there, a real beard that could use two shaves a day.
“Those were sacrifices. Are we going to sacrifice anything?”
Will looked at Narrio’s eyes, dark, almost squinted. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. But it was fading, fading —
Until it was gone.
And Tim exploded, laughing, punching Narrio in the side, coaxing back a full-blown grin.
“How the fuck do I know? Goddamn Kiff has the” — he put his face right in front of Narrio’s — “fuckin’ instructions.”
Everyone was laughing.
“But don’t you worry, Mike.” Tim made a sweeping gesture with his hand as if he were a fat lady swearing off another piece of chocolate layer cake.
“We won’t lay a finger on any virgins.”
“Speak for yourself, Hanna.” Whalen laughed.
And then, with the laughter mixing with the screeching dead-end stop of the train, Will saw that they were there.
* * *
10
Kiff was there, dressed in scruffy civvies — no sport coat and tie — with a nasty-looking puss on his face.
“Looks like he’s really hurting after being kicked out,” Tim said.
The lanky redhead waved at them from across Ocean Parkway. Will followed Tim, who was running across the wide avenue, with Whalen and Narrio behind.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kiff said.
Kiff was dressed in faded, worn khakis and a plaid shirt that looked as though it belonged to his father. He wore dingy sneakers that were coming apart in three or four places.
He doesn’t look like us, Will thought. From high school senior to bum in one day.
“What do you mean, a-hole? We’re here, so let’s get going.”
Kiff’s face fell, and Will knew he had bad news to tell.
“I didn’t get us anything,” he said.
“What?” Tim said. “What! You didn’t get any booze? Why not?”
“The old fart wouldn’t sell it to me.” Kiff gestured across the street to a small liquor store. “He did other times but, damn, today he wanted more ID.”
“Great,” Whalen groaned.
Tim looked really upset.
“I wish I had known, Kiff. I could have lifted something out of my old man’s supply. But now — shit . . .”
“There’s another store,” Kiff said, “right off Shore Parkway. We could try there before we go down to the rocks.”
Rocks? Will wondered. What rocks? I thought we were going to a beach . . .
“Okay,” Tim decided quickly. “We’ll try that.”
There was a sound above them. Whalen looked up at the elevated subway. Then he turned and said, “There’s a train coming, guys . . .”
“Let’s go,” Kiff said, grinning again, and he led them up the stairs to the subway — the el — taking awkward, giant steps. Will and the others were slower, carrying their books bundled by tight elastic straps or, in the case of Narrio, dragging his heavy book bag. Will guessed that they all had brought the absolute minimum number of books needed for the weekend.
But they had to bring something.
They got to the platform just as the subway train pulled in.
“Come on,” Kiff yelled.
There was only one working turnstile, so they had to wait for the machine to swallow their tokens, and then turn and spit them onto the platform.
Kiff hurried onto the train and held the pneumatic doors open.
“Come on!” he yelled.
Will pushed his way through the sluggish turnstile. He saw the engineer looking down, watching what was holding up his train.
But then Whalen — the last — got through and darted into the car just as Kiff let the doors whoosh shut. Will leaned against a placard advertising the World’s Fair that had just closed. The orange and blue was faded, and the globular Unisphere looked dopey.
The train lurched away, sending them all reaching for poles and straps on the nearly deserted
Our trip to the Twilight Zone.
“B-but then what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked.
Narrio rubbed his chin. He had a shadow there, a real beard that could use two shaves a day.
“Those were sacrifices. Are we going to sacrifice anything?”
Will looked at Narrio’s eyes, dark, almost squinted. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. But it was fading, fading —
Until it was gone.
And Tim exploded, laughing, punching Narrio in the side, coaxing back a full-blown grin.
“How the fuck do I know? Goddamn Kiff has the” — he put his face right in front of Narrio’s — “fuckin’ instructions.”
Everyone was laughing.
“But don’t you worry, Mike.” Tim made a sweeping gesture with his hand as if he were a fat lady swearing off another piece of chocolate layer cake.
“We won’t lay a finger on any virgins.”
“Speak for yourself, Hanna.” Whalen laughed.
And then, with the laughter mixing with the screeching dead-end stop of the train, Will saw that they were there.
* * *
10
Kiff was there, dressed in scruffy civvies — no sport coat and tie — with a nasty-looking puss on his face.
“Looks like he’s really hurting after being kicked out,” Tim said.
The lanky redhead waved at them from across Ocean Parkway. Will followed Tim, who was running across the wide avenue, with Whalen and Narrio behind.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kiff said.
Kiff was dressed in faded, worn khakis and a plaid shirt that looked as though it belonged to his father. He wore dingy sneakers that were coming apart in three or four places.
He doesn’t look like us, Will thought. From high school senior to bum in one day.
“What do you mean, a-hole? We’re here, so let’s get going.”
Kiff’s face fell, and Will knew he had bad news to tell.
“I didn’t get us anything,” he said.
“What?” Tim said. “What! You didn’t get any booze? Why not?”
“The old fart wouldn’t sell it to me.” Kiff gestured across the street to a small liquor store. “He did other times but, damn, today he wanted more ID.”
“Great,” Whalen groaned.
Tim looked really upset.
“I wish I had known, Kiff. I could have lifted something out of my old man’s supply. But now — shit . . .”
“There’s another store,” Kiff said, “right off Shore Parkway. We could try there before we go down to the rocks.”
Rocks? Will wondered. What rocks? I thought we were going to a beach . . .
“Okay,” Tim decided quickly. “We’ll try that.”
There was a sound above them. Whalen looked up at the elevated subway. Then he turned and said, “There’s a train coming, guys . . .”
“Let’s go,” Kiff said, grinning again, and he led them up the stairs to the subway — the el — taking awkward, giant steps. Will and the others were slower, carrying their books bundled by tight elastic straps or, in the case of Narrio, dragging his heavy book bag. Will guessed that they all had brought the absolute minimum number of books needed for the weekend.
But they had to bring something.
They got to the platform just as the subway train pulled in.
“Come on,” Kiff yelled.
There was only one working turnstile, so they had to wait for the machine to swallow their tokens, and then turn and spit them onto the platform.
Kiff hurried onto the train and held the pneumatic doors open.
“Come on!” he yelled.
Will pushed his way through the sluggish turnstile. He saw the engineer looking down, watching what was holding up his train.
But then Whalen — the last — got through and darted into the car just as Kiff let the doors whoosh shut. Will leaned against a placard advertising the World’s Fair that had just closed. The orange and blue was faded, and the globular Unisphere looked dopey.
The train lurched away, sending them all reaching for poles and straps on the nearly deserted
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