Johnny Hangtime by Dan Gutman Page B

it. These were the Thunder beings. They lived behind the falls and would lower the canoes gently to the base. There, the Thunder beings told the young men, ‘You don’t need to test yourselves this way. When you were created you were given all the courage and bravery that you will ever need.’ The young men saw the wisdom in this, and they stopped testing themselves. But when white men arrived and pushed the Indians off the land, the Thunder beings moved away. People forgot their message. The earth and the stars and the animals continued to talk, but the white men didn’t listen. As they forgot their oneness with the world, people became selfish, or mistrustful, or jealous of others. And that’s where we are today, you and me. The Thunder beings, I believe, put a curse on these falls when they left. It makes white men want to go over them. In boats, in canoes, even in barrels. Most of them die.”
    â€œI’m doing the gag, Dad,” I said.
    Dad sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to talk me out of it. Just as nobody could ever talk him out of all the crazy stunts he did when he was younger.
    â€œAre you scared?” he asked.
    â€œNo,” I stated firmly. “I know what I’m doing.”
    â€œIf a stuntman isn’t scared,” Dad said, forcing me to make eye contact with him, “he’s lost his respect for fear. That’s dangerous. If you don’t have a little fear, you don’t belong out here tomorrow. When you become so sure of yourself, that’s the time to quit.”
    â€œWhy should I listen to your advice?” I demanded. “Like your judgment is so good? You walked out on me. You pretended you were dead.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “It was the biggest mistake of my life. Just do me one favor. Don’t do the gag, John.”
    â€œWhat favor did you ever do for me ?”
    I walked away. He struggled to catch up, and handed me a card with his phone number on it.
    â€œIf you need anything, you’ll know how to reach me.”
    â€œI needed you three years ago,” I said, and walked back to the hotel without looking back at him.

17
THE FIRST SUBSTITUTE
    I tossed and turned all night. At first, when I woke up in the morning, I thought it had all been a dream. Dad wasn’t really alive. I hadn’t met him on the observation deck.
    But then, when Mom woke up and asked me how I managed to go to bed in pajamas and wake up in my clothes, I knew it was no dream.
    â€œI went out for one last look at the falls,” I explained. At least I was being honest, even if I didn’t tell her the whole story.
    â€œI don’t suppose there’s any point in begging you not to do the gag?” Mom asked hopefully.
    â€œNo, there isn’t.”
    In fact, I was pumped. There’s a feeling I always get when I’m about to do a big gag. It’s a little bit nervousness, yes. But it’s also a feeling of exhilaration. While millions of regular kids all over the world are playing video games and walking their dogs and taking piano lessons, I’m about to do something remarkable and amazing.Something that no kid in the world has ever done. I like that feeling.
    I would be putting myself in danger, but I had complete confidence in Roland. He had mapped it out. Every detail had been attended to. Except for my sprained ankle, I had never been hurt while working on one of Roland’s movies. In fact, nobody had ever been seriously hurt while working on one of Roland’s movies.
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    While Mom was in the shower, I went out to the parking lot to grab some breakfast from the food truck. Most of the Two Birds, One Stone cast and crew was already out there. I didn’t see Augusta Wind or Ricky Corvette.
    Everybody looked more serious than they usually do. A bit of tension hung in the air, it seemed to me. It’s the tension that comes before something very dangerous is about to take place.
    I had