chapter 2

I have written a Novel. It is called LIAR. It is copyrighted. Here is chapter TWO. Please provide feedback. (c) Michael Fried 1997, 2005


Chapter 2--HANDBALL

May 1967

he eight year old boy walked up to the steps of the large "splanch", a split ranch, style house that used to be painted white, then blue but was now covered with one of the newest innovations in the market: aluminum siding. His parents got it because a tin man told them that they would have none of the wear and tear problems that were associated with paint. Imagine, the guy said, when your buddies (he was talking to Sammy’s father, the man-to-man style working perfectly) are busy painting their houses on that beautiful summer day and you can take the wife and child to the beach or an amusement park and it won’t be crowded because everyone will be painting their houses. And it worked. The obvious puffery was lost when contrasted with the fun, fun, fun that ensued was imagined. That was the pitch that got Sammy Johnston’s parents (rather, his dad) to turn what was once a beautifully painted house of brick and wood into a house that Sammy presumed looked like Fort Knox. And it wasn’t just Sammy’s parents, although they were the first. All of the people on the block got hooked in by the tin man and the same line of bullshit. The whole neighborhood was undergoing a facelift and it took a whole summer for all of the men in the neighborhood to realize that they, as a group, put themselves back at square one. Now all of them had the time, once again, to go to the beaches, so the beaches were once again crowded. However, the siding was something new to Sammy. He liked the way the house used to look. It reminded him of Fred MacMurray’s house on My Three Sons. His cries of protest fell on deaf ears. So, for the eleven days of spring break in April of this year, he refused to leave his room in the hopes of getting his parents to change their mind. He, of course, lost.

Now, one month later, Sammy stood in front of his house. More than just resigning himself to the new look of the house, he adopted it as a new friend. He would play ‘Moonbase Alpha’, the house being transformed into the moonbase being threatened by aliens. The aliens, of course, had blown up the entrance to the moonbase so it was up to space cadet Sammy Johnston to find his way into the moonbase to save the astronauts. To do this, he had to jump over the steps of his house, which he pretended were the mountain of rubble created by the aliens. He played this over and over. At any given time, Sammy’s neighbors would see him standing by the steps that became his friendly foe. He would size up the steps as one would size up an enemy; luckily for him, this enemy never changed size. Once he sized it up, he would jump. When he first started jumping he would need a running start. The first time he jumped the toe of his sneaker got caught on the steps and he fell and cut his leg, his head landing only inches from his front door.

He quickly got better at his jumping, mostly from skill but also because he experienced a quick little growth spurt enabling him to become more agile. For the past two weeks he was able to jump up the four steps from a standing position. From doing this repetitively, his legs became very muscular, especially for an eight year old, so much so that he was teased in school by the other children, not so much because this was his only true hobby, but because they were jealous of his new found strength. And because he was teased so much, Sammy started up with a lot of kids, some older and some younger. Unfortunately, for Sammy, his arms were not as strong as his legs. He won some fights, but not often.

He obtained such a reputation for starting fights that everyone knew who he was even if they never met him before. He should have been on a first-name basis with the principal since he visited him on a daily basis. The principal, Jim Harvey, was a 56 year old man with thirteen children who rarely raised his voice. He had his share of aggravation from his children, but never had a child who was constantly getting into trouble. He could never understand why Sammy was unruly and, during the many meetings he had with Sammy’s parents, found out that the parents had the same lack of understanding. The principal continually asked the parents to be on the lookout for any objectionable behavior or any psychological manifestations and bring them to his attention.

It was lunchtime and Sammy Johnston was running at breakneck speed around the school, an ugly single-level brick building built three years earlier. Many people in the neighborhood spoke up at the school board meetings about the plainness of the school in relation to the taxes they paid. The kids had no such objection as they savored the vast size of the school grounds that enabled everyone to play their own games without crowding anyone else. If Sammy would have been running with other kids around the school he might have left them behind and passed them before they completed one lap. One person who did not like Sammy’s jumping and running exploits was Tommy Williams. Before Sammy’s jumping enabled him to increase his speed, Tommy was known as the fastest kid in the class. He was a tall boy, slightly chubby, but was very popular at the Kennedy Elementary School, playing with all the other kids during recess and lunch. He was on the little league baseball team, he played touch football, he ran in peewee track events and played many, many other sports. He often joked that he could "change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands, and leap tall buildings in a single bound."

But Tommy was best at handball. He loved marathon games, lasting the entire lunch hour, opting to gobble his sandwich between volleys. The more players the better. Often, there were fourteen kids playing an elimination game at the school, where the player who flubbed the last shot had to sit out the rest of the game. Tommy, very often, won these elimination games. He did not let Sammy play because he didn’t like him one bit. Tommy’s parents were not as rich as Sammy’s and as a result Tommy never got the great toys to play with like Sammy did. Not that it makes sense to harbor a grudge in this manner, yet such is the stuff that makes little human beings children. Sammy didn’t really care how Tommy felt about him but he would have liked to be included in the daily handball tournament because it looked like fun. One day towards the end of lunch, Sammy’s friend, Davey McCoy told Tommy that he probably wouldn’t win all the time if Sammy played. This infuriated Tommy because not only did he feel it wasn’t even close to the truth but primarily because Davey said it in front of Tommy’s friends, who could best be described as looking like Butch in The Little Rascals shows, torn and dirty. He needed to set the record straight and therefore he sought out Sammy. He spied him running around the building and waited for him to complete another lap before stopping him by stepping in his path.

"So your friend McCoy thinks you can beat me at handball. Today, 3:30 after school by the wall next to the gym" Tommy yelled, all the while jabbing his finger into Sammy’s chest. When they stood next to each other, the difference could be seen. While only two inches taller than Sammy, it was Tommy’s bulk that made it appear as if a David and Goliath match would occur when school let out.

"No problem" replied Sammy, bravely. However, he was scared stiff. He was good at handball but not good enough to beat Tommy. He didn’t want to be ridiculed and he dreaded waiting the entire afternoon.
"Fine," Tommy replied. "I’ll bring the balls." He regretted saying it as soon as it left his mouth, but he didn’t let it show.

"I didn’t know you had any." All of the kids started their catcalls at this remark. Tommy, embarrassed, grabbed Sammy by the shirt collar and quietly said, "Just wait." He released his grip and walked away as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.

Sammy was fidgeting throughout the entire afternoon and by the last hour was ready to kill. He was so on edge he thought his heart would stop. Everything said by his teacher, Mrs. Schwaberhoffer, a 63 year old spinster, went in one ear and out the other. "Samuel" came from the lips of Mrs. Schwaberhoffer. God, he hated that name. In fact, he hated it so much that he had conditioned himself not to hear it and not to respond to it. Samuel sounds like a prophet, he thought. He didn’t care for bible stories and he didn’t care for his full name. He preferred Sammy, or even Sam, which is what his namesake grandfather called him, but he didn’t care for that one too much. In fact, as he grew up and passed through his early thirties there was only one person who got away with calling him by his full name.

"Samuel." His conditioning worked. He earnestly did not realize Mrs. Schwaberhoffer was speaking to him, despite the fact that they were looking directly at each other. He wasn’t day dreaming. He just didn’t hear his name, that is, "Sammy", and thought she was calling on someone else. That was, of course, until he saw ‘Schwabby’ as she was called behind her back, approaching him with a steel ruler, her favorite weapon for inattentive children, in her hand. He snapped out of his haze quickly and moved his hand out of the line of fire, just as the ruler connected with the desk. I guess she was talking to me, he thought, and I guess she’s mad now. He realized how mad she was when he noticed that the portion of the desk where his hand rested before he moved it was badly splintered. Sweat beaded on his forehead. What did he do that was so terrible, he wondered. It must’ve been real bad since she was approaching him again, ruler in hand and a fire in her eyes. Her lips were pulled back in a sneer and her teeth were bared as if she were a snarling dog. She swung. Sammy ducked. The ruler hit the closet door directly behind him and splintered some more wood. Jeez, that would’ve taken my head off he thought. She had messed up children’s penmanship before but had never come close to performing a ritualistic decapitation.

Schwabby was madder than ever, having missed him twice. None of the other children in the class moved for fear that they would be next. When she approached him, he got up and tried to move away. She swung again and caught him on the small of his back. He winced and fell to the floor in pain, turning over as he did so. It was a direct hit. She swung the ruler again and hit him right on his left kneecap causing him to scream loudly. "Why the fuck are you trying to kill me? What did I do?" Sammy’s foul language broke Schwabby out of her deadly reverie.

Once again, Sammy found his way to the principal’s office, but his visit did not last long. When the principal heard what happened and saw the blood on the back of Sammy’s Tee shirt and saw Sammy limping he walked Sammy back to his classroom.

"The Principal wants to see you, Schwabby," he said in a sing-song voice as he entered the classroom. The class fell silent. No one had ever dared to call her by her nickname to her face. Sammy was held in awe and new found respect by his classmates, except Tommy Williams.

Schwabby, disbelieving, said, "I’m teaching a class right now. It will have to wait." She noticed that her forehead was beginning to perspire.

At that moment the door to the classroom opened and Principal James Harvey walked in. Standing about a foot taller than the teacher, Harvey possessed one of the oddest faces. His complexion was sallow and his face was gaunt, giving him the look of a monster. Nevertheless, he had the kindest eyes and the nicest smile. The contrast between these two looks, which could be shown at once, was unnerving. "No, Mrs. Schwaberhofer. It will not wait," he said softly with a smile and penetrating eyes. He turned to the class. "Children, you will have a substitute teacher starting tomorrow. Mrs. LoGreco will watch you for the rest of today." He turned and walked out of the classroom, holding the door for her and beckoning for her to follow.

Then Sammy quietly said, "I think you’re going to lose your job. Serves you right, you know." The class looked on in disbelief. This hated teacher had been done in by an eight year old. At this point, even Tommy Williams’ mouth was hanging open, although he would later deny it. Sammy limped in silence to his seat. Schwabby walked to the door, turned and said to the class "the rest of your year will be pure hell and you have Samuel Johnston to thank for it." And she left.

Her threat meant nothing as they never saw Schwabby again.

Shortly after Schwabby left, the three o’clock bell rang. School was out and the children departed quietly through the halls and then scattered frenetically when they hit the great outdoors. The only kids that hung around were Sammy, Tommy and about twenty kids that were waiting for the big match. Sammy felt that he had the psychological edge that he needed having properly trounced Schwaberhoffer in the classroom. He was still high from his confrontation with her and even though he knew that he would see her again tomorrow, he was happy now. Classmates were crowding around him, slapping him on the back for having the guts to do what they never dreamed of. Kids from other classes were doing the same thing once they heard what he had done. In fact everyone gave congratulations to Sammy, except Tommy, who stood off to the side, by himself, watching his nemesis receive his laudits. He had always called Sammy a wimp but now he wasn’t so sure.

The area around the gym was so crowded by game time that Tommy and Sammy had to ask everyone to move back so they wouldn’t get in the way of the ball and so that the two of them had a proper playing area for this championship game. The mood was like that before a prize fight when the crowd is evenly split about whom they want to win. Half of the kids were chanting "Sammy, Sammy" while the other half of the kids were yelling Tommy’s name. The game was about to begin and the crowd hushed in anticipation. Even old Mr. Phillips, the janitor, neglected the start of his daily afterschool chores to watch some of the match. The first serve was decided by the toss of a coin, in Sammy’s favor. He was glad he got the serve because he heard how hard it was to return one of Tommy’s serves. He was sure he could do it, but the longer he could put off finding it out, the better. He sized up the ball and looked to see where Tommy was standing. He let the ball bounce two times to feel its rhythm. And then he served.

The ball hit the ground and caromed up to hit the wall. The ball sailed over Sammy’s head towards Tommy, who only had to take two steps to properly return it. Sammy just watched as Tommy smashed the ball which hit the ground and then the wall with such force that the ball once again sailed over Sammy’s head and out of his reach.
It was now Tommy’s serve.

Sammy felt that Tommy would start off with a big serve to announce his presence so he stayed toward the back of the court. Tommy’s first serve was light and just barely landed in fair territory. Sammy tried to rush in, and did, in fact, get some hand on the ball but was unable to return the serve. "C’mon, Tommy" he said, limping while he was talking, "give me a break, my knee is killing me because of Schwabby." His knee wasn’t hurting all that bad. Let Tommy think it was and get a few points under his belt and then Sammy would bring out the heavy artillery.

"Tough shit" replied Tommy and proceeded to win six points in a row. His last serve was too strong, causing the ball to fly too far and land in foul territory. It was Sammy’s turn again. His serve was hit so hard that it sailed over Tommy, who was playing close to the serving line. Six-one. The next serve landed in the same spot and Tommy was unable to do anything more than hit it halfway to the wall. Six-two. Tommy moved back. The next serve landed close to the serving line and Tommy couldn’t reach it. Six-three. "All luck" yelled Tommy. "Serve it up."

The fourth serve was a smash that sailed straight at Tommy’s head. Tommy dropped himself to the ground to avoid being hit. The kids watching the game started laughing and Tommy got up, red-faced. The next ten minutes went basically the same way with Tommy only able to regain his serve twice and score four points. The entire crowd was now yelling "Sammy, Sammy" in unison, their voices getting louder with each point Sammy won. It was obvious that Sammy’s knee wasn’t bothering him as much as he said raising Tommy’s ire to the boiling point. Unfortunately, he could do nothing about it. If he confronted Sammy on the court he would be laughed at by everybody and called a sore loser.

And so it went. Sammy scored twenty-one points answered by only four of Tommy’s to beat Tommy by eleven.
Tommy was furious. When Sammy came up to Tommy to shake his hand, Tommy slapped Sammy’s extended hand away from him. "You’re going to pay for this," Tommy cried. "You’re going to regret the day that you lied to me about your knee and making me look like a fool in front of everyone."
"I’m sorry, Tommy. I didn’t lie about my knee. It did hurt but I guess it didn’t bother me once we got into the game," he added plaintively.

"The hell you didn’t lie," Tommy replied and with a huge shove, pushed Sammy to the ground. He landed right on his ass. Tommy stood above him, laughing, and toeing Sammy with his foot. Sammy was yelling for Tommy to stop it. Quickly, most of the kids were yelling for Tommy to stop, but he continued. Soon, his prods turned into full kicks. He kicked each exposed part of Sammy’s body and Sammy winced in pain as each blow was delivered. As Tommy was about to deliver a hard kick to Sammy’s kidneys, Sammy rolled over causing Tommy’s foot to miss connecting with Sammy’s body. The resultant centrifugal force caused Tommy to lose his own balance and fall on the ground next to his nemesis.

Sammy, seizing probably his own opportunity to get the advantage, jumped on top of Tommy and, despite his pain, started to punch Tommy repeatedly in the chest and face. When it was over, Tommy was hurting. His nose was bleeding, he had a black eye and his chest was bruised. Most of all, his pride was shattered. He was no longer the toughest, and therefore the most popular, kid in school.

Tommy swore revenge and he knew he would get it. "You know good lying little shit. The day you think you can put one over on me is the day you are going to die. I’m never going to let you forget this. You just wait and see. For as long as you live, you’ll regret this day."

And Sammy did regret it, but not for a long time.


Tommy, with the aid of his cousin Bill who was visiting from Albany for the week, decided that Sammy had to be taught a lesson. Bill Williams was a tall for an eight year old, like his cousin Tommy; however, where Tommy was a bully, Bill was downright malevolent. But Tommy never saw this side of Bill. Bill was born and bred in Albany but his parents grew up on Long Island and decided to take Bill out of school for a week so that Bill’s mother could visit her sister, Tommy’s mother.

Despite the 200 mile gap between the two of them Bill and Tommy were very close. Unlike most boys their age, they kept up a steady stream of correspondence and, if they were behaving or did well in school, spoke to each other on the phone for a few minutes at a time each week. Therefore, it came as no surprise that Bill wanted to help Tommy defend his honor against that little punk, Sammy Johnston.

"What do you think we should do, " Tommy asked.

"Well, let’s teach him a lesson he’ll never forget. How ‘bout we hit him a few times with a baseball bat?" Bill replied.

Tommy was leery. "Awww, I don’t know. I don’t want to do anything where he can really get hurt." While this was not the first time Tommy heard Bill talking about beating someone up, he didn’t like the tone in Bill’s voice. He certainly sounded very, very strange. Tommy was beginning to think, so what if Sammy beat him at handball. Did he really have to get back at him, especially so severely?. Unfortunately, when he saw the look in his cousin’s face he knew that he would not be able to turn back.

"Are you kidding?" Bill was incredulous. "You go to the school this morning and you’re king of the hill. By the end of the day, you’re a piece of shit. You can do what you want but if it was me, he’d be dogmeat."

"I know, I know," Tommy said wistfully. "Let’s think of something, but let’s make sure it isn’t so drastic."

"Fine by me" replied Bill, hiding his disgust for his cousin’s lack of cojones, a word he recently learned and had come to love. "Let’s surprise him." And then: "I have an idea. I’ll be right back." And with that Bill got up and went into Tommy’s garage, where he disappeared for several moments, leaving Tommy bewildered. When Bill came out he was holding Tommy’s father’s fishing pole. "I did this to someone once before. I used the fishing wire to trip somebody. We’ll string it across someplace. The wire is practically invisible. He’ll trip and break his face. He’ll never know what hit him. Now think, is there any place to tie up both ends of the wire?"

"Well," Tommy replied enthusiastically, now realizing that there was no intent to seriously hurt Sammy, but just to put the scare into him. "Lemme think....wait!.. I got it! Sammy likes to jump on his steps."

"Huh?", Bill said, projecting one of the blankest stares ever recorded on a human face. "He does what?"

"He has this porch in front of his house," Tommy said by way of explanation. "It has four steps. He likes to jump up the steps without touching them. On each side of the stoop is a tree that the wire could be tied to."

"Perfect," replied Bill, pulling the wire off the rod and reel and replacing the fishing pole back in the garage. "Let’s go over to his house to see if anyone’s around."

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t do this."

"Don’t pussy out now, Tommy. He made a fool out of you. What would the kids at school say if you didn’t get back at him?"

"Yeah, I know, but..." Tommy’s voice trailed off.

"There are no buts about it, Tommy. He’s not getting away with it." Tommy didn’t like the look on his cousin’s face and didn’t know how good the plan sounded, but he went ahead with it anyway. He didn’t want to do it, on the one hand, but one the other hand, all the things that Bill said rang true. However, as time passed he became more and more angry. The more he thought about what Sammy did, the more infuriated he became. He, like his cousin, now wanted revenge. And he made it clear to himself that he would not regret the consequences, no matter how grave. Bill, on the other hand, not knowing Sammy, never had the slightest hesitation or regret.
At least he wouldn’t for a number of years. Then it would come back to haunt him like Jacob Marley’s ghost. But for Tommy, there was no ghosts of Christmas past, present or future. He would be given no chance to repent.

"Let’s go," Tommy said, his face set with a savage sneer.


Sammy was on his way home after school when he stopped at the park near his house. It was a nice park that most kids liked to play in. It had the obligatory swings, sand box and jungle gym and had plenty of room in which children could run around in. It was the type of park that was frequented by adults from the neighborhood during the afterschool hours, creating a safe haven for the children to play. Today, since it was right after school, most of the neighborhood kids were getting their homework out of the way before they came out to play. So when Sammy got to the park, its only occupants were a few pigeons and their feeders, two old retired men named Jerry and Lew, grandfathers to two of his friends. On nice days, he liked to sit in the park and read or watch the old men feed the birds. Today was an absolutely great day so he just sat and relaxed. There was no need to rush home as both of his parents worked and they were not home. In addition, as Schwabby was rushed out of the room before giving out the assignments, he did not have homework. So he sat and he thought. Today he thought what it would be like when he was older. He didn’t know what he wanted to be. Sometimes he thought he would be a fireman or a policeman, sometimes it would be a doctor or a lawyer. Today he thought about being a spy. He enjoyed watching The Man from Uncle and Secret Agent and I Spy. In fact, all of his friends watched those shows and they talked about them with great enthusiasm the day after they were broadcast. He was in such a good mood he pretended he was a spy right then and there, looking suspiciously at all of the people in the park to determine if they were Russian spies. Yes, today he wanted to be a spy when he got older.

And he got his wish because he stayed in the park so long.

Blocks away, the Johnston house was being set up for an ambush. Bill and Tommy tied the wire around the trunk of the fir tree to the left of the porch. Tommy tugged at it a few times to make sure that the wire was secure enough to stand its ground when Sammy tripped over it. The hard part was the next tree, the one to the right of the porch. Tommy attempted it first; however, he left too much slack while tying it to the tree. Bill untied the fishing wire from the tree, took up the slack and huddled next to the tree bringing his left arm around the tree to meet the hand with the wire. When the two hands met he pulled the wire tighter to take up all of the slack, causing the trees to bend a bit. The wire glistened in the sunlight. Bill didn’t mind. The wire was barely noticeable, but as if being watched over by some benevolent devil-god, he noticed a large mass of clouds in the distance that were headed their way. Once they covered the sunlight, the wire would be effectively invisible. He tied the wire around the tree. When he was finished tying it, he gave it a little tug with his finger. "It’s tight, " Bill said. "Let’s go hide in those bushes" he said, pointing to the small row of evergreens at the edge of the Johnston’s front yard." "I can’t wait to see him smash his face"

"Bill, maybe we shouldn’t do this," Tommy said.

Bill jabbed his finger in Tommy’s chest. "You know we should and we’ve come too far to stop. You’re in this with me, Tommy, and if you want to back out, I’ll get you. I’ll tell them it was all your idea. Boy, you’ll be in big trouble."

"You can’t do that."
"Try me."

Enough said. He knew Bill had already done something to set him up in case anything went wrong. Tommy capitulated and the two boys both knelt down behind the bushes like the buzzards awaiting their prey. Bill was absolutely still. Tommy was fidgety as the evergreen needles were jabbing into his bare arms and legs. They both waited for the moment of triumph. They knew it was near when they heard the small whistling sound of the little boy who had finally left the park and continued his way home.

Sammy walked up the path leading to the front of his house. He looked up to the sky and noticed that it was clouding up fast. "I hope it doesn’t rain," he thought aloud. He did not notice the two heads rising over the top of the bushes, like savage predators zeroing in for the kill.

The eight year old stood looking up at the big white aluminum sided house that he called home. He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to jump today. Today was tiring enough already and it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. But looking at the house longer and longer, he realized that he was not as tired as thought he was. He was in good enough of a mood that he laid his books on the grass at the base of the big oak tree to his left and prepared to pounce.

Tommy and Bill stirred. "This is it," the latter said.

But it was not. In the course of his jumping, Sammy developed different jumps. He had a standing jump, a running jump, a hurdle jump and even a hop, skip and jump. He first tried the standing jump and cleared the wire about three inches. Tommy and Bill first tightened with anticipation and then relaxed miserably when they saw him miss the wire. They felt cheated when he missed and didn’t think they would get their revenge. "His books," Tommy said. "He has to come back over to get his books. Maybe he’ll jump again."

And, indeed, that is exactly what Sammy had to do. But first, he took out his keys and opened the plate glass storm door (god, he couldn’t understand why his parents never put screens in during the nice months) and then unlocked the wooden door to his house opening it up all the way. He went into the house and yelled down the steps that led into the basement. "Mom," he yelled. No answer. He went upstairs. "Mom," he asked questioningly. Again, no answer. Must’ve gone out shopping, he thought. He was now glad that his parents had recently decided to give him a key to the house so he could let himself in if they weren’t home. They felt that he had shown enough maturity to earn it. At the top of the stairs he realized that he had forgotten his book bag. Letting out a groan, he turned to go back the way he came in order to get them. Opening up the storm door he let it close of its own volition. Jumping back over the wire, which he now missed by nearly a foot because of his elevated position, he decided to try the running jump. He hadn’t done the running jump in quite a while and felt he was out of practice. In addition, he felt, it would give him the additional speed necessary because he would be carrying his book bag. And, he thought, scientifically, of course, that when you do the running jump you come in lower so he needed the speed so he wouldn’t trip on the top step.

All the while Sammy was in the house, Tommy and Bill were stirring uneasily in the bushes. What if someone else came by, Sammy’s mother for instance and tripped over the wire and got hurt. This they didn’t want. They were about to get out of the bushes and remove the wire when Sammy came out of the house. They breathed easier but then tightened up when they saw Sammy clear the wire a second time. They were sweating nervously by now. "Jesus, doesn’t this guy ever walk or run up the stairs like a normal person?," Bill muttered.

Sammy picked up his book bag and walked up to the steps, stopping just short of the unseen wire. He might have seen it this up close and personal, but he heard his name being called out and turned.

It was Davey McCoy. He was Sammy’s age, had light brown hair, was a gargantuan 50" tall and had brown eyes. He was also Sammy’s best friend. He came over walking with a limp, the result of a botched operation when he was merely three. He had torn ligaments in his leg and they needed to be surgically repaired. The doctor, otherwise normally a competent and respected surgeon, was not on his game that day as a result of just being asked for a divorce by his wife. The operation was performed poorly, to say the least. Although the muscles were reattached, they were made shorter, leaving Davey with his limp. Fortunately for Davey, while he was between Junior High and High School his parents took him to the world renowned Dr. Samuel Goldfarb, an orthopedic surgeon who was looking for this type of surgery to perform as part of a treatise he was writing. Goldfarb was able to correct the injury with no resultant problems. Meanwhile, Davey and his parents got rich from the Medical Malpractice lawsuit they filed against the original doctor. All that was needed was an 8mm home movie of Davey walking with a limp to get the insurance company to open its checkbook real wide.

"Hiya Davey, How’re ‘ya doin’" Sammy asked.

"Pretty Good. Whatcha doin’?"

"Jumping."

"Awww, You’re always jumping" was Davey’s slightly teasing reply.

Sammy uttered a little chuckle and said, "Yeah. You know, for a second I was thinking about doing a running jump but I don’t know if I want to do it. To be honest, I was scared."

"Yeah, I know. Ever since your fall six months ago you haven’t done it, but, c’mon Sammy, it was icy out then. It’s nice now. You gotta try. When I first got this limp, I didn’t want to play any games, but you talked me into it. If I were you I’d do it."

"I can’t."

"Yes, you can."

"I don’t know. Every time I think about it I get the shivers."

"So start further back and build up speed."

Reluctantly, Sammy said "okay."

Sammy gave his book bag to Davey who sat on the grass to watch Sammy’s jump. Sammy moved twenty feet down the front walk and for good measure backed up another five feet until he was almost at he sidewalk. He carefully eyed his sights. Better not overshoot, he thought. But no matter. The worst that could happen is that he would bang into the storm door. Nothing could break that. He remembered when he threw a baseball against the door by accident and waited for glass to fly everywhere. It just thudded against the glass and landed on the stoop.

He started his run, slowly but built up speed as he approached his "blast-off" point as he called it. He was running fast now and for the first time in six months he wasn’t scared because he knew he was going to make it. He was glad that Davey talked him into jumping. All his concentration was focused on the jump. He saw nothing around him. His only sense was of sight, and a tunnelvision sight at that, with Sammy only seeing the porch in front of him as he built up speed.

His feet left the ground and he pulled his knees slightly up to his chest so that they would clear the top step. The feeling of weightlessness exhilarated him. It was a feeling he would always remember. Unfortunately, it was one he would always try to forget.


Davey McCoy looked on in horror as he saw Sammy’s figure plummet, like a projectile straight to the door as if Sammy leaped at it deliberately. What was happening?

Tommy and Bill saw everything, too, as if it was in slow motion. It seemed as if it took forever from Sammy to get from the sidewalk into his leap. They, too, couldn’t understand why Sammy was leaping so long and hard. What was happening?

Sammy was picking his knees up to his chest so that they couldn’t come up any further. His legs felt paralyzed. He couldn’t move them up and he was scared. He was going very fast now. Strangely enough, his feet stayed in one spot while the rest of his body felt as though it moved forward through time and space instead of rising to a pinnacle. His arms flew out from his sides to a point directly in front of his head, which began to dip. His shoulders pushed forward as his head lowered and his legs straightened out behind him. He was now as straight as a ruler, going as fast as a pint sized tactical nuclear missile. He felt his body lengthen as if someone or something was holding onto his feet. Then it felt that whoever or whatever was holding onto his feet let go. He saw the plate glass door loom larger and larger until he flew into a black hole that pulled him into its vortex. What was happening?



He never knew what hit him. In his fright he lost consciousness before he smashed through the plate glass storm window that never broke before. The shards of glass embedded themselves to his entire body, ripping his clothes to shred and slicing his body all over. Most prevalent were the large splinters of glass emanating from the top of his head. With the light shining off of these pieces, it looked as though Sammy was wearing a halo.

The window did not stop Sammy’s forward momentum. He kept flying through the plate glass and landed at the precipice of the steps leading downstairs; however, his forward thrust did not end there and he went over the edge and bounced down the ten steps that led to his finished basement. He came to rest at the bottom of the stairs and lay in a mangled and bloody heap at the base.

Davey quickly unfroze and ran to the house yelling Sammy’s name at the top of his lungs. What he saw defied belief. Sammy was laying in a large pool of blood with sharp pieces of glass protruding out of his body. He quashed the urge to cry or scream and, instead, ran to the phone, grabbed the receiver and dialed "0". He never saw Tommy or Bill who made a hasty departure when Davey went into the house.

All the operator heard on the other end of the phone was a young voice, panting, yelling for an ambulance and asking for it to come to 422 Wilson Lane. Before there was a chance for the operator to respond she heard a click signifying the end of the conversation. Although this operator had her share of prank phone calls in the past, this one did not fit the mold. The child was just too direct and appeared to be in terror. She called over her supervisor and told him what happened. He made the phone call to the local police department to check out the call.

Later, the policeman told Davey that if he didn’t call the operator when he did his friend might have died in his basement where he lie. The policeman told him he was going to talk to his bosses but wanted to give him something called a sytahshun for his good deed. Davey couldn’t sleep for a week. His face was pale and he stayed up at nights maintaining a vigil for his friend. Everyday, after school, he made his mother take him to the hospital to wait on his friend. He just knew that Sammy would be all right. He just had to be. Sammy was his best friend.

Tommy and Bill beat a hasty retreat when Davey ran into Sammy’s house. Bill felt like the heavyweight champion of the world, pumping his arms as he ran. Tommy, however, had never suffered as much abject terror as he experienced at that moment. While running towards his home with Bill, he became more sullen and withdrawn as each second passed. Bill continued in his upbeat mood slapping Tommy on the back and telling him how good it felt to "teach that little prick a lesson he wouldn’t forget" totally oblivious to the fact that Tommy was becoming more and more unresponsive. The two boys stopped at the same park that Sammy had been resting at not thirty minutes earlier. Bill exercised his arms and legs on the playground equipment while Tommy sat quietly on the park bench staring straight ahead, his eyes devoid of emotion as they stared into an emotional abyss.

In the distance they heard the wail of the sirens that were no doubt headed to the Johnston residence. Bill marveled at, and remarked to Tommy, who again did not respond, how groovy it was hearing the sirens grow louder and then fainter as the ambulance and police cars passed. While Bill danced around like the winner of a championship prize fight, Tommy, upon hearing the sirens, began to scream. He screamed a bestial bloodcurdling sound for fifteen seconds and fell silent again. By the time Bill dragged Tommy out of the park, the entire neighborhood had heard of the horror at the Johnston household. Many of the people in the neighborhood who knew Sammy, especially youngsters, were in a state of shock. Bill heard the distressed cries of people in the neighborhood and seized upon it for his partner in crime’s lack of responsiveness. In fact, he nearly had to carry Tommy as it appeared that the boy was losing his motor coordination. Tommy’s father came running out of the house yelling for an explanation. Bill told him that Tommy seemed to be different after he heard about the kid’s accident. Tommy’s father, who was a bit of a bully himself and regaled in Tommy’s tales of torment, eyed Bill suspiciously, but said nothing. His first concern was for his child.

Tommy’s parents immediately called their general practitioner who told them that they should not worry. They should let the boy have a good night’s sleep and come see him in the morning if Tommy wasn’t his usually rambunctious self.

While Bill slept peacefully, Tommy experienced the worst nightmare in his life yet as hard as his internal controls tried to rouse him from it, he could not wake up. He dreamed he was alone in the desert, standing on a cliffside, watching a sunset. He was older, in his twenties. He thought he was in the Grand Canyon, but couldn’t be sure. All of a sudden a bright light filled his field of vision, temporarily blinding him. When his eyes recovered, he heard a large metallic whining noise behind him. He spun around and saw behind him a large spacecraft of some kind. He walked over to the ship, which looked like the one in his favorite science fiction movie, The Day The Earth Stood Still. Looking as though two pie plates had been joined together the exterior structure of the craft was nearly thirty feet high and almost one hundred feet in diameter. He touched the craft and pulled his hand back.

Damn, the surface was hot, he thought. He tried to touch it again, ever so slightly and this time the ship was cool to the touch. He backed up to get another look at the craft and started walking around it. Seamless, he thought. He wondered where the exit was. He would love to have a chance meeting with some aliens, but how could he get their attention? So he did the only thing he could think of. He walked up to the spaceship and knocked on the cool surface and yelled "Anybody home?" To his right, a panel of the spacecraft disengaged and started lowering to form a plank. From within, an ugly ten-eyed creature with a long trunk-like snout stuck out his gnarled hand and beckoned a wide eyed Tommy to come aboard for a view that could not be rivaled. Tommy reluctantly moved up the solid gangplank and entered the spaceship trepidatiously. When he was inside, he was taken to a large video screen that showed him the canyon he was spying before. He felt the spaceship rumble as it took off and he marveled at the sight of the Grand Canyon from the sky. Suddenly, a voice spoke from behind him. "Nice view, huh?" He spun around and faced his eight year old cousin Bill. "You know, Tommy," Bill was saying, "I could get in a lot of trouble if you tell someone what I did." And with lightning fast speed, he grabbed Tommy’s wrist. Tommy tried to pull away, but the alien’s strength was too strong for him. He was dragged across the cavernous floor and placed in a tube that ran from ceiling to floor. "Now, you can experience the feeling of flight that your friend Sammy felt. So long." And with that the floor disappeared from beneath Tommy and he fell towards the Grand Canyon at incredible speed screaming his apologies all the way down.

In the morning his bedsheets were soaking wet and he looked as though he had lost ten pounds. The doctor, who was remorseful over his cavalier attitude the previous evening suggested hospitalization and Tommy’s parents readily agreed. Later that night, Tommy had another nightmare. He was playing a game of handball with the devil. The devil kept repeating "Never lose. Never lose. Never lose." Yet Tommy was beating the Devil with little difficulty. "Never lose. Never lose. Never lose," the Devil kept repeating. When Tommy beat the Devil 21 to 1, he walked over to shake the Devil’s extended hand, but he realized that it was not a hand but a long serrated knife which the Devil repeatedly plunge into his chest, all the while yelling, "Never lose, Never lose, Never lose." When Tommy realized that the Devil’s face was that of his nemesis, Sammy Johnston, he screamed until he could scream no longer.

In the hospital, Tommy’s monitors flatlined and despite the valiant attempts by the hospital staff, the boy could not be revived. He was pronounced dead at 5:25 in the morning. Later, the doctor told Tommy’s distraught parents that he died of sleep-induced Apnea, a condition which ordinarily results from the failure of the lungs to produce adequate respiration during sleep. He could not, however, explain why Tommy’s hair was white when he died.

Tommy’s parents sent Bill back to Albany and only saw him one more time in his life.