On Tuesday, me and Mike run into Little Kevin near this brownstone building where some older swagged-out high school guys chill.
“Watch this,” Mike says all braggy to Little Kevin.
Mike calls to some of the guys, and they nod and wave back.
I wish I could act out the way Little Kevin’s eyes pop when he sees that. “Wow! You know them?” he asks.
Mike wraps an arm around Little Kevin, walks off, and tells him something like he’s sharing a secret. I bet he’s telling him how he’s down with them.
I’m not about to bring Little Kevin to my apartment because I don’t know him well, so when Mike turns and says, “Let’s head to the pier,” I’m happy.
Soon, we’re out of our projects, past the stadium’s handball courts, then at the piers. There, we dare each other to take off our kicks and walk in the water.
Little Kevin tells Mike he can’t swim and asks him a million times, “How deep is it?”
When Mike calls him soft, I get that bad feeling.
Mike goes in on Little Kevin with the disses. Punk, butt, and other things.
“I’ll do it,” Little Kevin tells Mike, “if you do.”
I watch Little Kevin slowly step in that pier’s tide, and he’s so scared that he is almost crying. But he does it. He steps in for Mike.
I feel sick to my stomach. I hate seeing how Little Kevin will follow Mike even when it makes no sense.
“You coming in?” Mike asks me.
“Nah,” I say, not expecting for that to boom out with so much bass. But it does. I guess my feelings show. “And I’m not soft for not doing it.”
I can swim. I just don’t feel like it. Maybe I don’t want to look like such a follower as Little Kevin, up behind Mike’s every move.
I just stare at my kicks on solid ground, then at them two stepping deeper and deeper into the tide as the waves start pounding against their shins. Soon, they’re nearly knee deep. I watch Little Kevin fake-laughing.
I watch, as serious as a heart attack.
The next few days are the same when it comes to me, Mike, and Little Kevin. Mike calls the shots, Little Kevin is too thirsty to follow, and I stop caring that this is how it goes. Why? We do fun stuff, and nobody seems to get hurt. I’m, like, “whatever, whatever” and I’m cool with Mike’s ideas.
I’m cool with our fun for another reason: Mike never goes back to the idea of us train-surfing. I’m thinking, He’s not mentioning it because he doesn’t want Little Kevin coming.
Before, I just had a general bad feeling about Little Kevin train-surfing with us. Now I definitely don’t want him coming. The kid has no coordination. When we played handball, Little Kevin couldn’t even catch the handball, even when I slow-underhand it to him. So if he can’t catch, how will he stay gripping the outside of the train as it zooms faster than the fastest cars? Duh.
He also fell down when we played tag. All Mike had to do was say, “You it,” and reach a little toward Little Kevin, and Little Kevin backed up and tripped. He tripped! Over his own feet! He fell straight on his butt. Come on. Someone who can’t run backward can train-surf? Nah.
Plus, Little Kevin gets too shook too quick too. On Thursday morning, I surprised him as he went from one class to another in our crowded hall. I ran behind and yelled, “BOO!” and he almost jumped out of his body like the scariest-looking zombie in the most haunted house scared him. How is someone who gets that shook that fast ready to handle all that crazy scariness of hanging outside a train above a six-foot drop as the tracks blur under our feet while electricity sparks off the track? Nuh-uh.
Then, on Thursday after school when we drop Little Kevin near his stoop, Mike whispers to us both, “Saturday, remember. Train-surfing.” Little Kevin gets mad hyped like he’s ready; I feel torn and get real quiet.
Mike looks at me funny. “You down?”
I nod. “No doubt. Yeah.”
“For real?”
“Yeah! Puh-leez, son. You know I’m down to train-surf.”
Mike fist-bumps me. “My man!” He taps me and tells me to explain to Little Kevin how crazy fun train-surfing is.
I start doing that, and the whole time I wonder why I don’t just say what I really feel. Now it’s like I’m two people. On the outside, I’m promoting train-surfing so hard. On the inside, I’m like, Why am I being Mike’s hype-man with this? As I keep telling Little Kevin things, his eyes get wider and wider. He is straight amazed. Now there’s no way he’s backing out of train-surfing.
When I’m done talking, I want to smack myself for doing the opposite of what I should’ve.