Twist

Twist

By William D. Hicks

Copyright 2011 by William D. Hicks

Cover Copyright 2011 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing

The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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http://www.untreedreads.com

Twist

By William D. Hicks

The snow, which had fallen just a month before, had completely melted away. Tan clumps of sleeping grass graced the parkways of the streets.

As the boys passed Major Street, one threw a stick into the air. It hovered over a parcel of land owned by the town, then descended like an oddly shaped bird.

Kevin Hull watched it land. At ten years old he was just bumming around with his buddies. A gang of sorts—five mischievous boys walking down the street, being loud and obnoxious. The year was 1953. They were just boys with no malice in their hearts. To hang with your friends was a cool thing. An American pastime, childhood.

As the small group passed stores, Johnny Sanfrantello made lame remarks about them. A beauty parlor received “beauty before age.” To a local drug store he offered “an apple a day.” This was a regular game with the group. Johnny, at twelve, was the oldest boy, so he was the leader. The other boys ranged in age from nine to eleven years old. Johnny made important decisions about which games they played.

His favorite one was ledge. It entailed taking a rubber ball, standing behind a designated line, and throwing the ball against the ledge of the grammar school. If you hit the ball on the small angled top part of the ledge it bounced back without touching the ground. When you caught the ball, you earned ten points. You could also hit the lower ledge with the ball, and catch it to earn five points. The lower ledge was thicker and easier to hit, so it was worth less. When the ball hit the ground before making it past the designated point, didn’t hit the ledge at all, or wasn’t caught, no points were earned. The player would then get chided by his peers.

Some kids were horrible at the game. Especially the uncoordinated ones, and the ones who hated baseball. But all the boys went along with Johnny.

Other games such as “name the store.” Johnny dominated as well. Games like “dare,” around since the beginning of time, Johnny only liked to play once in awhile. Only when he got to make the dare. And he made them hard.

Walking down Main Street the boys spotted a new store. Completely blackened glass, except for a single gold “D” centered in its ebony heart, graced its main window. Nothing else about the store indicated what merchandise would be sold.

“D—dumb. That’s what it must stand for, cause if you go in you gotta be dumb.” Johnny laughed at his own lame joke.

The other boys laughed.

“No…it must mean deadly—nothing that goes in comes out alive.” Tony Pankow tossed a new white rubber ball in the air and caught it in his leather mitt.

“Maybe it means diseased.” Johnny grabbed Tony’s rubber ball midair, then tossed it high into the air. It bounced on a car and went rambling fast down the street.

“Damn, Johnny.” Tony went trotting after the ball.

“Dark—maybe only Negroes go in there.” Jimmy Summers held his nostrils closed.

Tony returned and was once again tossing the ball in the air. “What should we play now?”

Swinging his head from side to side Johnny took a quick look around, then went over and tried the door. It was locked. He rang the bell. “Ding dong bitch, I mean ding dong ditch.” He laughed as he and all the boys scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.

A man in a t-shirt came out shaking his fist. He began to run to catch the boys, but when his cigarettes fell out of his pocket he stopped.

“Better lose that baby fat Jimmy, or Mr. DeMarco will catch you the next time.” Tony tossed the ball into the air out in front of himself and then ran and caught it.

Ten minutes later they had all arrived in the schoolyard. It was only two blocks south of Main Street and one block west. As usual, Jimmy took a long time to arrive even though he ran all the way. Jimmy didn’t fit in, not at all. But the boys felt sorry for him and let him hang around with them. It didn’t hurt that Jimmy’s mother made wonderful taffy, which she gave only to his friends. That solidified the little pack. Now, Jimmy panted like a hound dog after the hunt.

“Hey Johnny, did you see that creepy old Mr. DeMarco after you rang the bell?” Jimmy asked, breathless. He always liked to be included in the conversation. If that meant he had to butt in that was fine.

“Nah—was he a Negro?” Johnny asked, taking no offense at Jimmy’s change of topic. He was used to the ways of his pack.

“Probably,” Kevin said.

“No, but he must have been a hundred ten years old. His hair looked like steel wool. Long gray strands would break off if you touched them.”

“Are you pulling my leg Jimmy?” Johnny asked, ready to thump Jimmy if he were. Johnny was not too swift, but he was mean as a dog when he got riled. That was one reason why he had cronies who followed him around.

“Nah,” Jimmy said a little intimidated. “Ask Billy, he saw it too.”

“He’s not fibbin’ Johnny,” Billy Hawkins said. “I seen the guy too. He looked real mean, like he might kill someone. Boy he was old. His front teeth was missing, and his nails were yellow as pee. Like a dead man, if you know what I mean. I ain’t kiddin’.”

Each let out a sigh of astonishment. All except Johnny.

“You’re such a liar Billy,” Johnny finally said.

“It’s true,” Billy and Jimmy replied in unison. Billy added, “Swear on my mother’s grave.” The other boys knew Billy’s mother wasn’t dead. They also knew what it meant when one of them used this retort. If it was a lie, the person who they swore upon was supposed to die. If you used your mother, it meant you were telling the truth.

“Okay,” Johnny said. “Let’s play ledge.” He bounced his rubber ball against the ledge and caught it.

“Yeah,” a couple of boys screamed out.

Kevin put his hands over his ears.

As they started playing, Johnny said, “Let’s make this game worth something.” It was not unusual for them to bet on games or points. Nothing too expensive, a few cents, or a piece of candy usually. “We’ll do it right. No sissy bets. Let’s bet for dares.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy looked dumb since all the other boys seemed to understand.

“Well, let’s bet a dare—whoever loses has to do the dare,” Johnny said.

They would do it, he knew—he was the leader—they all followed him on blind faith, pure and simple, like they did with their parents.

“I think I need to go home.” Billy knew he was terrible at ledge.

“No way!” Johnny’s face went all twisted and mean. “Everyone has to play.”

All the boys tossed pennies to see who would go first. Johnny’s landed closest, then Kevin’s. The last three players were Tony, Jimmy and Billy.

Johnny got to throw the rubber ball until he didn’t score anymore, or until he missed catching it, which took a few minutes. The object was to reach one hundred points, so his scoring sixty points was exceedingly good. Especially since most were five pointers.

Now it was Kevin’s turn to throw. Since he was small for ten years old, and awkward, he didn’t throw the ball the correct way, underhanded. He pitched it overhand to get it to the ledge. It hit too hard. Shooting back in an arc so high and far that he had to run five feet behind it to catch it. But though he almost tripped over his own feet he caught the ball. Five points.

“Hey—I had to run to get that one—I should get ten points,” Kevin suggested, trying to persuade the other boys.

“It hit the lower ledge—five points,” Johnny said acting as referee. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’m gonna win.”

“No way,” the three other boys said. Meaning Kevin lost and only got five points. Even Billy was on Johnny’s side—probably because Billy was just a little better at the game than Kevin. With ten points for the throw, Kevin might beat him. There was no way Billy wanted that, especially when the winner—Johnny of course—got to pick the dare.

Kevin understood these things, yet could not have verbalized them. He didn’t begrudge his friend for his denial of support.

The last time Johnny gave Billy a dare it was a difficult one. Billy had to steal a candy bar from the five-and-ten store. Although he hadn’t wanted to shoplift—he was stuck.

Back then everything seemed like it was going smoothly. Billy had walked into the place, the other kids watching from outside, and walked out with the bar stuck in his pocket, into the grayness of night. Mr. Clawson, the owner, came out running, grabbed him and shook him hard, finally calling Billy’s father to pick him up. Twenty-five whips was what Billy received. Along with two weeks grounding, he got no dessert for a month, which he couldn’t sit down for anyhow, and no allowance until he put two dollars in the church poor box. That was the worst part, Billy told them all, because he only got twenty-five cents a week so it took two whole months. No baseball cards, no movies that whole time. Nothing he lived for, just chores and school. Soda bottles he found at the schoolyard only grossed him a few cents. Enough for a few pieces of candy once in awhile, nothing more.

So he was not going to side with Kevin this time. Not if it meant the same ghastly punishment. Even if they were best friends, it wasn’t worth it.

Kevin got to throw one more time. A cool breeze rushed past him, chilling him to the bone. It was as if he could feel defeat in the air. He raised the ball, and threw it. Though it hit the ledge and shot off in a startling angle. Instead of catching it, his nose stopped its descent. His score remained five points.

Tony’s turn yielded thirty points, while Jimmy got forty. Billy only got five points before he missed the ledge.

Johnny kept throwing the ball and catching it, throwing it and catching it. It looked like a tennis match. Back and forth—back and forth. The school building favored him by leaning out at a right angle, allowing him to hit its ledge. Sure it was an optical illusion of the fading light, but that was what it looked like—at least to a child. He made three ten pointers in a row, which was pretty astonishing. Even to Johnny. He seemed to sense the inevitable doom, which lurked just out of sight...waiting to claim his streak...so he made the final two throws five pointers. As if by magic, Johnny won the game within two rounds—it usually took at least three and sometimes four. He had never hit three ten pointers in a row. After the third one, Johnny wimped out and shot at the easier five-point ledge. Had Johnny tried—Kevin knew—he would have hit all ten pointers, or won a baseball throwing championship that day. The knowledge left him unsteady and scared. The wind seemed to blow the boys in a certain direction—forward, and wouldn’t allow them to turn back. Kevin sensed it—Johnny could have won with two broken hands and ten busted fingers.

Everyone congratulated Johnny. Except for Billy who was terrified what Johnny’s dare would be. This was the first time anyone had tied for the losing spot—him and Kevin. “Kevin and Billy!” Johnny exclaimed in excited tones. “You both lost so you both have to do the dare!”

“No way!” Billy yelled back, more from fear than to question Johnny’s authority. “The last time….”

“You’re such a wimp.” Jimmy cut him off. “Kevin’s not complaining.”

“No. We’ll play sudden death,” Tony said. “Whoever gets the most points on one ball wins. Loser does the dare.”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, still flying high from his amazing triumph. Had he not been he would have required both boys do the dare. His smile said it all: he was feeling good, even god forbid, generous.

Billy’s face registered terror at the sudden death prospect.

Kevin, sensing Billy’s heightening fear, made his first adult decision. “No way—I’ll do the dare. If you want you can make it doubly hard. I’m sure that’s okay by everyone.”

Everyone nodded approval.

Kevin noted Billy’s eyes saying, “Thanks, I owe you one.” A pang of guilt, like a slow rolling cloud passed over Billy’s features. Guilt, Kevin knew, for not supporting the earlier decision on his five-point throw. But Kevin didn’t begrudge him that.