The Falls (29 page)

I didn't feel anything. My head—my whole body— just felt numb.

“I'm feeling it, and I'm not even in the barrel,” Boomer said. “Same high any addict gets when he's getting his fix. So, are you feeling it?”

“Um . . . no . . . not yet.”

“We're coming up to the stop where I'm gonna be leaving.”

“Already?”

“I told you, I have to get down below and be ready to get you out.” He paused. “You sure you're okay?”

I nodded my head.

“You know, you don't have to do this.”

“What?”

“You don't have to do this,” Boomer repeated. “You can climb out right now and nobody will think any less of you.”

“Of course they will!” I exclaimed. “I can't just walk away. Not after all this work. Not after everything we've done . . . all the time and money that has been invested.”

“You could walk away, right now.”

“What would everybody say?”

“Do you really care what everybody would say?”

“Well . . . what about Timmy? What would he think?”

“He'd think you were doing the right thing. I know that. He doesn't want you to go . . . he told me.”

My head was suddenly spinning around. I didn't know what to think, what to say.

“Why are you doing it?” Boomer asked. “Why are you going over the Falls? Is it for the thrill?”

“Not the thrill,” I said. “For the money, I guess. To make it big. You know how much money this would be worth. It's my way out.”

“Out of what?”

“Out of here. Out of the Falls.”

“What's so bad about being here?”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“It's just that you
like
living here. You left and you came back,” I said.

“So did you. You and your mother lived other places before you came back here,” Boomer said.

“That wasn't my choice. If I stay here it's like . . . like . . . I'll never be anything.”

“And you want to be more. You want to be an engineer, right?”

“I want to be
something
.”

“You'd be a good engineer. This is a beautiful piece of work,” he said, putting a hand against the barrel.

“Good enough to make it over the Falls?”

“As good as anything I've seen.”

“Then maybe I have to try.”

“That's not what I'm saying. You don't have to try anything. If you do, you do, but do it for the right reasons. You want out of here, you want to become an engineer, I can help.”

“How can you help?” I asked.

“I've got money,” Boomer said.

“It'll cost a fortune. Besides, I can't just let you give me money,” I said.

“I'm not talking about
giving
you anything. I'm talking about you working for it. More hours during the school year and full-time every summer. Not to mention that I just might make you an offer for the barrel. You were right when you said it would make a pretty fine display in the museum.”

“I can't let you do that either. I know there's not enough money coming in for that. I know the museum doesn't make that much.”

“The museum is just my hobby. I got lots of money. Who do you think owns the parking lot
beside
the museum?” Boomer asked. “Bought that twenty years ago. And I'm a partial owner of a couple of restaurants in
town—sort of an investor. And then there's the houses. I own five houses that I rent out.”

“I didn't know.”

“That's because I don't talk about it. Not everybody who lives here is a loser, you know.”

“I didn't mean that . . . I didn't mean you were a loser.”

“The Falls is like every other place. It's got good and bad, winners and losers—in things and people. A man isn't defined by
where
he lives, but by
how
he lives.”

The truck still wasn't moving—the engine was silent. Suddenly the back door of the truck was flung open and Timmy and the driver were standing there, looking up.

“We're here at the parking lot,” Timmy said.

“We need some more time,” Boomer said.

“But if we don't go now we'll have to wait until—”

“We need more time!” Boomer yelled. “Now close the door and leave us alone!”

Timmy looked shocked, but he listened.

“What about Timmy?” I asked. “I can't leave him behind. He has a dream too.”

“Nobody's asking you to. I'll help him the same way I'm gonna help you. I'll help him chase down his dreams. What does he want to be?”

“A pilot.”

“Pilot!” Boomer exclaimed. “I'll help him get there . . . although there's no way I'm ever gonna climb into any plane that he's flying. Well . . . what do you think?”

I didn't answer. I didn't know if I had the strength to climb out of the barrel.

“Sometimes the bravest thing somebody can do is simply say no. Are you brave enough to walk away?”

I shook my head. “I don't know.”

“I think I do. Let's just call it quits for today,” Boomer said. “You don't have to close the door forever, just for today. I'll make you a deal. I'll keep the barrel right there in the museum. You work and keep an eye on it. Five years from now, if you decide you want to go over the Falls, then it's yours again.”

“Really?”

“For sure . . . unless of course I decide to use it myself.”

“What?”

Boomer started chuckling. “Remember what I said— I could get into the record books as the oldest man to go over the Falls.”

“You wouldn't do it, really, would you?”

He shook his head. “Can't risk it. Got things I have to take care of. Somebody's gotta keep an eye on you and Timmy. Now get yourself out of there!”

I undid the straps holding me in. I started to climb out and Boomer gave me a hand. I slipped out, feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.

“You know, Jay, if you'd done it—if you'd gone over the Falls—you probably would have made it,” Boomer said.

“I know,” I said. “Probably. But this way, I
know
I'm going to make it.”