face.
“Thanks a lot, Buddy. After everything I've given you, you can't even do me this one little favor.”
“Hey,” I said, “no one told you to rip off your own family.”
I went home and folded my papers on the living room floor. My parents sat behind me on the couch, laughing along with the canned laughter on television.
“Happy birthday!”
My mother woke me the next morning with a lipsticky kiss on the cheek. It was August 8,1974, and I was officially thirteen years old. It was something I'd been waiting for for a long time.
“Don't make any plans for tonight,” she said. “We have a surprise for you.”
After she left for work, I wolfed down a bowl of cereal and hopped, still half asleep, onto my bike. I wanted to finish my paper route as quickly as possible so I could spend the afternoon with Kevin. I hoped he wasn't mad at me.
Around eleven o'clock a brown tow truck turned the corner and began tailgating me down Maple Street. I veered up a driveway to give it room, but the truck didn't accelerate to pass. Then I saw why: “PAUL'S AMOCO EMERGENCY SERVICE” was written in yellow letters on the side door. Paul himself was scowling at me from the driver's seat, jabbing his finger like a cop pulling over a speeding car. I stepped on the brakes and so did he. The truck's passenger door swung open on a creaky hinge.
“Get in,” he commanded.
“What about my bike?”
“Just leave it.”
I dropped my bike on someone's lawn and climbed into the cab, which smelled pleasantly of gasoline. Paul sat beside me, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The skin on his knuckles was cracked, the crevices caked with grease. He took his hand away from his face and looked at me.
“Where's Kevin?”
“Isn't he home?” I tried to sound casual, but I could feel my blood abruptly reverse itself, rushing into my face as though I were doing a headstand.
Paul gave me a disgusted look and shifted into gear. I wondered vaguely if I was being kidnapped.
“It's not the money that bugs me,” he said. “It's really not. But if he needed it, why didn't he just ask?”
I didn't answer. How could I explain that Kevin didn't
need
the money, that we were just having fun?
“Tell me the truth,” Paul said. “Is he doing drugs?”
I shook my head. It gradually became clear to me that I wasn't being kidnapped. We were just orbiting the streets of Darwin, cruising up one and down another. I began to relax and enjoy the ride, my first ever in a tow truck. The heavy chains swayed and clanked behind us; our bodies vibrated along with the powerful engine. The parked cars we passed looked small and vulnerable. If Paul and I had felt like it, we could have just hoisted one up and dragged it away.
“How come he hates me?” Paul asked.
“I don't know,” I said.
He took a couple of quick turns, and pretty soon we were back on Maple. I was almost disappointed that nothing more exciting had happened, that Paul hadn't tried to make me talk. I had one leg out the door when he grabbed my arm.
“You tell Kevin to come home. He's not going to get punished. We just want him back. Youtell him his mother's worried sick.”
“Okay,” I said.
I got out, walked over to my bike, and slung the heavy canvas bag over my shoulder. The tow truck didn't move. Paul was slumped forward in the driver's seat, his forehead resting on the wheel.
That afternoon I told Kevin about my encounter with Paul. He was only half finished with the sandwich I'd brought him, but he got mad and whipped it at a tree.
“He's a liar! The second I walk through the door he's gonna kill me.”
“I bet he won't.”
“You don't know him.”
We sat sullenly on the log. The woods weren't the least bit scary during the day. Birds were chirping; the air was cool and fresh. You could see through the trees to the houses on Center Street.
“Can you camp out tonight?” Kevin asked.
“Tonight's my birthday,” I said. “I promised
“Thanks a lot, Buddy. After everything I've given you, you can't even do me this one little favor.”
“Hey,” I said, “no one told you to rip off your own family.”
I went home and folded my papers on the living room floor. My parents sat behind me on the couch, laughing along with the canned laughter on television.
“Happy birthday!”
My mother woke me the next morning with a lipsticky kiss on the cheek. It was August 8,1974, and I was officially thirteen years old. It was something I'd been waiting for for a long time.
“Don't make any plans for tonight,” she said. “We have a surprise for you.”
After she left for work, I wolfed down a bowl of cereal and hopped, still half asleep, onto my bike. I wanted to finish my paper route as quickly as possible so I could spend the afternoon with Kevin. I hoped he wasn't mad at me.
Around eleven o'clock a brown tow truck turned the corner and began tailgating me down Maple Street. I veered up a driveway to give it room, but the truck didn't accelerate to pass. Then I saw why: “PAUL'S AMOCO EMERGENCY SERVICE” was written in yellow letters on the side door. Paul himself was scowling at me from the driver's seat, jabbing his finger like a cop pulling over a speeding car. I stepped on the brakes and so did he. The truck's passenger door swung open on a creaky hinge.
“Get in,” he commanded.
“What about my bike?”
“Just leave it.”
I dropped my bike on someone's lawn and climbed into the cab, which smelled pleasantly of gasoline. Paul sat beside me, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The skin on his knuckles was cracked, the crevices caked with grease. He took his hand away from his face and looked at me.
“Where's Kevin?”
“Isn't he home?” I tried to sound casual, but I could feel my blood abruptly reverse itself, rushing into my face as though I were doing a headstand.
Paul gave me a disgusted look and shifted into gear. I wondered vaguely if I was being kidnapped.
“It's not the money that bugs me,” he said. “It's really not. But if he needed it, why didn't he just ask?”
I didn't answer. How could I explain that Kevin didn't
need
the money, that we were just having fun?
“Tell me the truth,” Paul said. “Is he doing drugs?”
I shook my head. It gradually became clear to me that I wasn't being kidnapped. We were just orbiting the streets of Darwin, cruising up one and down another. I began to relax and enjoy the ride, my first ever in a tow truck. The heavy chains swayed and clanked behind us; our bodies vibrated along with the powerful engine. The parked cars we passed looked small and vulnerable. If Paul and I had felt like it, we could have just hoisted one up and dragged it away.
“How come he hates me?” Paul asked.
“I don't know,” I said.
He took a couple of quick turns, and pretty soon we were back on Maple. I was almost disappointed that nothing more exciting had happened, that Paul hadn't tried to make me talk. I had one leg out the door when he grabbed my arm.
“You tell Kevin to come home. He's not going to get punished. We just want him back. Youtell him his mother's worried sick.”
“Okay,” I said.
I got out, walked over to my bike, and slung the heavy canvas bag over my shoulder. The tow truck didn't move. Paul was slumped forward in the driver's seat, his forehead resting on the wheel.
That afternoon I told Kevin about my encounter with Paul. He was only half finished with the sandwich I'd brought him, but he got mad and whipped it at a tree.
“He's a liar! The second I walk through the door he's gonna kill me.”
“I bet he won't.”
“You don't know him.”
We sat sullenly on the log. The woods weren't the least bit scary during the day. Birds were chirping; the air was cool and fresh. You could see through the trees to the houses on Center Street.
“Can you camp out tonight?” Kevin asked.
“Tonight's my birthday,” I said. “I promised
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