Read Online Ghost Time by Courtney Eldridge - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Courtney Eldridge
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One day, I’ll figure it out, he said, reaching over, and I go, But that’s not the point is it? He didn’t answer, and he was so spaced out, staring at the hole in the fence, I actually wondered if we’d sit there all night.
Finally, he said, You know, when I was a little kid, my dad took me to a baseball field, just like this one, near our old house. He brought a kid-size bat for me and this, you know, like, ancient baseball, he said, wrinkling his nose, wrapping his hand around an invisible baseball. It was so heavy and gnarly, he said, and then my dad told me it used to belong to his grandfather, my great grandfather. And that his father had taught him to swing with that same old baseball. Family tradition. So we got started with batting practice, and I kept missing and missing, and I was getting so frustrated, but my dad calmed me down, telling me that’s exactly how it was when his dad taught him. And he kept explaining the finer points of hitting, and then, out of the blue, I hit that damn ball so hard, I knocked it out of the field. I’m not kidding, he said, and I couldn’t say anything, because he nevertalked about his family, especially his dad. I just waited, hoping that wasn’t the end of it, and it wasn’t.
I guess what I’m saying is that when I saw that hole in the fence, it reminded me of that time with my dad, and how, at some point when you’re a kid—like every kid in the world, you know, whatever it is, running or jumping or swimming, swinging a bat, at some point, you give it all you got. And when you connect, you honestly believe you are the fastest kid or the kid who jumps the highest or whatever. You are the best of all the kids in the entire world; no one is better, he said. The thing is, that has to be true for at least one kid, right? Some kid really
is
that kid, and I said, Is this leading back to you by any chance? He laughed, biting his tongue between his molars, and then he said, All I can say is—. This should be good, I said, and he said, We never found that baseball. I thought I’d done a terrible thing, but my dad, he… he was so proud, said it was the best swing he’d ever seen in his life. He said it was a tribute—I’ll never forget that. So, yeah, what I’m saying is that it’s hard to be the best kid in the world, and just as I reached to slap him, he grabbed my arm. I said, This is why you brought me out here at ten o’clock on a Sunday night, so I could feel your pain? And he said, You wanna feel something else, you’re saying? And I just locked my jaw, snatching my hand back, thinking,
No, no, no, not gonna say it.
But then I did. I said, You know, sometimes, I actually forget you’re a boy, and Cam said, Come again? And I said, No, really, there are times when you can go three, four hours without saying anything rude or crude, but then it just wells up inside you, doesn’t it, and you have to let it out. Come on, he said, cockinghis head toward his window and opening his door. I’ll show you the other reason I brought you here. Where are we going? I said. I didn’t want to get out—it was
freezing
, and dark. Cam goes, It’s a surprise, holding out his hand for me. Oh, and bring your camera, he said, so I did, walking over to him. This way, he said, taking my hand and leading me down, around the edge of the fence, down this old cobblestone walkway, with no idea where we were going.
I thought I knew this town, but I don’t. Every time he shows me something, takes me somewhere, I realize how many hiding places, just how many secrets this town has. Especially because there are all these abandoned tunnels, from when there used to be a different rail line with these underground tunnels that were just left here to die. I’ve been here three years, had never even heard of them before, and Cam’s barely been here six months, and he knows a hundred places I’ve never seen. One of the first things he’d ever told me was how he takes drives sometimes in the
Finally, he said, You know, when I was a little kid, my dad took me to a baseball field, just like this one, near our old house. He brought a kid-size bat for me and this, you know, like, ancient baseball, he said, wrinkling his nose, wrapping his hand around an invisible baseball. It was so heavy and gnarly, he said, and then my dad told me it used to belong to his grandfather, my great grandfather. And that his father had taught him to swing with that same old baseball. Family tradition. So we got started with batting practice, and I kept missing and missing, and I was getting so frustrated, but my dad calmed me down, telling me that’s exactly how it was when his dad taught him. And he kept explaining the finer points of hitting, and then, out of the blue, I hit that damn ball so hard, I knocked it out of the field. I’m not kidding, he said, and I couldn’t say anything, because he nevertalked about his family, especially his dad. I just waited, hoping that wasn’t the end of it, and it wasn’t.
I guess what I’m saying is that when I saw that hole in the fence, it reminded me of that time with my dad, and how, at some point when you’re a kid—like every kid in the world, you know, whatever it is, running or jumping or swimming, swinging a bat, at some point, you give it all you got. And when you connect, you honestly believe you are the fastest kid or the kid who jumps the highest or whatever. You are the best of all the kids in the entire world; no one is better, he said. The thing is, that has to be true for at least one kid, right? Some kid really
is
that kid, and I said, Is this leading back to you by any chance? He laughed, biting his tongue between his molars, and then he said, All I can say is—. This should be good, I said, and he said, We never found that baseball. I thought I’d done a terrible thing, but my dad, he… he was so proud, said it was the best swing he’d ever seen in his life. He said it was a tribute—I’ll never forget that. So, yeah, what I’m saying is that it’s hard to be the best kid in the world, and just as I reached to slap him, he grabbed my arm. I said, This is why you brought me out here at ten o’clock on a Sunday night, so I could feel your pain? And he said, You wanna feel something else, you’re saying? And I just locked my jaw, snatching my hand back, thinking,
No, no, no, not gonna say it.
But then I did. I said, You know, sometimes, I actually forget you’re a boy, and Cam said, Come again? And I said, No, really, there are times when you can go three, four hours without saying anything rude or crude, but then it just wells up inside you, doesn’t it, and you have to let it out. Come on, he said, cockinghis head toward his window and opening his door. I’ll show you the other reason I brought you here. Where are we going? I said. I didn’t want to get out—it was
freezing
, and dark. Cam goes, It’s a surprise, holding out his hand for me. Oh, and bring your camera, he said, so I did, walking over to him. This way, he said, taking my hand and leading me down, around the edge of the fence, down this old cobblestone walkway, with no idea where we were going.
I thought I knew this town, but I don’t. Every time he shows me something, takes me somewhere, I realize how many hiding places, just how many secrets this town has. Especially because there are all these abandoned tunnels, from when there used to be a different rail line with these underground tunnels that were just left here to die. I’ve been here three years, had never even heard of them before, and Cam’s barely been here six months, and he knows a hundred places I’ve never seen. One of the first things he’d ever told me was how he takes drives sometimes in the
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