Danny's Mind: A Tale of Teenage Mysticism and Heavenly Power

by James T. Bailie

  Chapter 2

   

  Sometimes on a scary amusement park ride, you’ll enjoy a bizarre second where everything goes crystal and still, and you step out of time itself.  It’ll flutter in and out in an instant. That’s a genuine “I am more than the thoughts in my head” moment of truth. Now the head-based mind will automatically banish the experience as weird and inexplicable, perhaps some indigestion from that cold pizza you ate, like Scrooge’s underdone potato. Don’t let that happen. Instead, look deeper into those moments of stillness that don’t belong. If you succeed, something amazing will talk to you.

   

  -  From His Recorded Words

   

  I mentioned Danny’s house being run-down. My own house is crappy. I think crappy is worse because it means you don’t even care. Picture a dirty, disheveled two-story, with olive green paint peeling off the sides, rotten gutters, a broken upstairs window sealed by cardboard, and a couple old tires and other junk in the yard. A peek inside looked pretty much the same. A dining room, kitchen, and rec room down stairs, two bedrooms upstairs. The walls used to be white, but were yellow now. The furniture was old, moldy, and when you sat on the couch watching TV it was an awful temptation to tug the stuffing from holes in the faded green fabric. I don’t think there was even a TV with a remote until a few years ago. Fortunately, most of the houses on the street were crappy too, so it didn’t bother anyone. That included Dad. I could use the same word about him, the “c” word. I don’t want to though. He was a drunk, and a little hard to know. Lived on some government assistance for the most part, and spent most days drinking in seedy bars in our neighborhood like the Cozy or Hambones. When he wasn’t doing that, he was usually dozing on our couch with a bottle of scotch and the channel clicker. Sometimes he helped out at one of the bars for extra money, but mostly he didn’t. 

  Usually I came home to an empty house. Dad never got home until 10 pm or thereabouts. I’d always made dinner and everything else on my own. Dad would give me a hundred every couple of weeks and I’d stock up on canned foods and other sandwich stuff that’s easy to make. And I drank a lot of coffee. Tonight I slopped a bowl of the Chef’s ravioli in the microwave, grabbed a cup of Maxwell House and crashed in front of Wheel of Fortune.

  I woke up later to a clanking. It was the sound of a grocery bag full of booze hitting the kitchen counter. Dad’s cowbell. The kitchen clock said 6:15.

  “Hey, Dad. You’re early.”

  He was busy pouring a tall glass of brown booze. He bent down for a swig, bringing it a thumb’s length from the brim so he could pick it up. “There’s a game on the tube.” As an afterthought, he asked, “What are you doing this evening?”

  “Hanging out at the amusement park. Got any cash?”

  Dad sat down on other side of the couch, rummaged through a couple pants pockets, found nothing, then put his hand inside his dirty, plaid sports jacket and extracted a twenty and nine ones. He yanked the bills back fast when I reached out, and said, “Wear your helmet.”

  “Yeah, yeah.“ I traded him the remote for the bills, grabbed my keys off of Tim Hanson’s state archery trophy which I kept in a cupboard, and picked the helmet off the floor holding it out so Dad could see. He bought me the helmet right after I got the cycle. He didn’t know, but I only put it on once in front of a mirror. Didn’t like the look. But I’m glad he sometimes asked me to wear it.

  I roared up onto Danny’s yard a few minutes later. My Honda was the only thing I owned that I really took pride in. It took me almost two years to scrap up the money with odd jobs and occasionally selling things that didn’t belong to me—hubcaps and such—but now it was as much a part of me as a cowboy and his horse. Danny must have been waiting cause he walked out the door right away. Probably to avoid any lectures from his parents. They tolerated me—even if they didn’t like me—since Danny had no other friends. But before anyone could brow-beat me about my “hoodlum ways”, I threw him the helmet and he hopped on the back.

  Now Danny knew I didn’t drive slow, but after a few minutes I found myself hollering back at him. “Hey, when I lean, you have to lean too.”

  “All right,” he yelled and began leaning more in sync. Which meant I could take even deeper swings on the bike, and that was more fun, for me.

  After a couple miles of racing and swerving through the streets, I stopped by a small park in our neighborhood. It had about as much room as a tennis court though it was a triangle shape, with a single worn bench and a couple trees and raggedy bushes. I didn’t like the carnival until after dark when the lights came on, so we had a few minutes to kill.

  “Let’s practice a little.”

  Danny got off, went to an open spot that was illuminated by a street light and carefully assumed the position. Legs apart, slightly bowed for balance, feet firm on the ground, torso twisted sideways to make a smaller hitting area. He crooked his hands just above his waist like I’d taught him. “I’ve been working on it,” he said, maybe a little bit cocky.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’re a regular Bruce Lee now.”

  I had studied karate off and on for several years, mostly as a kid, eight, nine, or ten. I think I stopped when Mom split and Dad started drinking. Money for lessons dried up. But I kept practicing, borrowed books, watched training videos in the library, and occasionally worked out on other kids I didn’t like. I’d been training Danny on the basics for the last few months. It didn’t do much for me, but it was fun to teach and if anyone needed a little learning in self-defense, he was the guy.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s get practical. Pretend like you’re holding your books and some jerk is trying to snatch them. Like this.” I lunged at his carrying arm.

  He swung his opposite arm, pushing my hand out of the way and turned his body full into my space with his shoulder up to my chin, then followed with the other arm into my mid-chest. It was clunky. I could see him pausing from one movement to the next, trying to get it just right.

  “Well, my granny could have stopped you at that speed. Geeze, you are slow. You know what I think your problem is? You think too much. Once you know the moves, let your body do it. It knows its job. That’s how I win fights. I don’t think period.”

  “I know. You go razor. I need to go razor.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. That’s my word. You need your own.”

  “Like what?  Jello?”

  “Naw, not yet. You’ll know it when you feel it. Suddenly you’ll see your body doing your fighting for you, and you’ll know what your word is. It’ll come to you. Keep practicing.”

  We went back and forth practicing lunges, punches, blocks, snap-kicks to the knee and stomach. We did more combos, but more for me than for Danny, since he was naturally terrible at those. He’d gotten better with each practice, but in a real fight he’d definitely get himself stomped.

  “Okay, I want to show you one more thing. Instead of blocking my punch to the side with your arm, try catching my hand straight on, like a base-ball. Don’t try to stop it. Just let it come forward and catch my wrist like this; then pull down and using my momentum against me—flip me. It’s cool if you can get it to work, cause if you do it right you probably won’t even hurt the person. Just land him on his butt.”

  We took turns with the new move. Of course, I knew he wouldn’t be able to do it this time around, but it’s a nifty maneuver and I wanted to practice it myself.

   “I just can’t get it to work all at once,” he said in despair.

  “Give it time. We’ll just keep working on it until we get it right.”

  He picked up the helmet. “Until I’m a regular Bruce Lee, I guess.”

  “Damn right.”

  It was full nightfall when we got to the carnival. The rides had started, the music was loud. The whole place was lit up with blinking lights and flashing colors. I loved amusement parks at night. The brightness, the energy, the screaming and laughing people.

  Danny handed me a five dollar bil
l, but I waved it off and pulled out the small wad Dad had given me. Twenty-nine bucks bought twelve tickets, for six rides apiece, with money left over for a couple cokes and a big bag of red licorice, because we both hated the black kind.

  It wasn’t crowded yet, but there were people enough to bump into if you weren’t watching. As we walked to the roller coaster, we passed the Twirling Tulip ride and I noticed three familiar faces standing together in line. It was Michelle Connelly, Jen Wright, and the little red-head who’d helped to break it up when Danny’s books were getting kicked around. That aside, they were cheerleaders, cool crowd types—not my type and not Danny’s. So I veered away, steering Danny with me to avoid eye contact. I got maybe ten paces, when we heard our names being called. It was the red-head. This made no sense: I’d never talked to her in my life. But there she was, waving, and calling us like we’re pals. “Hey, Danny! Joe Maddy! Hey!” Danny pointed sheepishly to his chest. I smacked his hand down. The red-head yelled: “Yes, you, Danny Perkins! Joe Maddy. Come on.” Michelle Connelly and Jen Wright were also waving us over. It was odd, but when I’ve thought back on this scene I don’t see three girls calling us, but three bouncy hairdos, one long, blonde and strait; one curly brown; one red and wispy. Michelle, Jen, and—.

  I nudged Danny as we walked through the crowd, “Who’s the red?”

  “Sally Dygert. She’s in my geometry class. Last year she had brown hair.”

   “You girls need something?” I asked, as we reached them.

   Yeah,” Sally Dygert said with a smile that was really charming. “We’re looking for a couple extra bodies to go on the ride. It spins faster that way.”

  “What do you say?” asked Jen.

  Sally was the short sparkplug type, red hair dangling over freckles and a cute oval face. Jen was more of a volleyball candidate, probably 5’9” or 10”, just a couple inches shorter than me.

  Michelle just nodded her head in agreement with her friends. She seemed a little more subdued. She was the school’s Popular Girl—with the silky long blonde hair, the soft blue eyes, perfect nose and lips, and a dancer’s physique. She was head cheerleader and a good student to boot.

  “Okay, we can do that,” I said. We stepped into the line behind the girls, Danny behind me. He was always extra shy with girls. I wasn’t, but I’d never had a girlfriend for anything more than a few weeks and none recently. Sally was immediately in front me of me, Jen and Michelle in front of her.

  Michelle turned around and asked, “You need any tickets?”

    “No, we got our own.”

  I might have raised an eyebrow, because she said: “Hey, I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant, well, we probably bought more than we needed, and—”

  “We’re okay,” I said. I hated it when people thought Danny and me need charity.

  Michelle shrugged her shoulders. Sally chimed in behind me to Danny. “What’s your favorite ride?” She had a great smile, very natural and it kind of pulled you in.

  Danny paused to think, as if he were being asked who his favorite philosopher was. He was a serious kid by nature. I passed a glance at Sally and she smiled back. Danny said, “Well if it’s a hot day, the log ride. But at night I think the Ferris wheel is more fun because you can look over the whole city all lit up and brilliant.”

  She laughed. “Brilliant. Yeah. I agree. I wish you could stop it when it gets to the top and just look at everything for a few minutes. They should have thirty second pause buttons in the carriages.” Danny and Sally were discussing the pros and cons of different rides as well as Starburst candy versus M&Ms versus other candies until we got to the ticket guy at the end of the line. Michelle was in the front, but she wasn’t paying attention. She jumped when the guy said harshly, after probably the second or third time: “Hey, girl! Wake up!” Jen nudged Michelle forward and one by one we gave him our tickets and climbed the stairs to the ride platform.

  As we walked over to an empty Tulip, I nudged Sally’s attention at Michelle and said softly, “What’s her deal? Problems with the boyfriend?”

  “Well, yeah, she always having trouble with Tim. But tonight…” She whispered, “We just came from the hospital to visit her aunt. She’s probably not coming out.”

   “What’s wrong?” Danny said.

  “Cancer.”

  Danny said, “Oh.”

  I said, “That’s bad.” But that was it.

  Once we were seated in the curved Tulip seats, Sally leaned sideways and cupped her mouth. “Don’t tell anyone, but I enjoyed watching you beat everyone up this morning.

  “I didn’t beat everyone up.”

  “Well you knocked that Dave Holdstrum flat and that was pretty cute. He’s a weasel.”

  “Yeah, he is a weasel. He put me in detention for a day though.”

  “Sorry about that,” she said. “I think he deserved the bloody nose.”

  “I didn’t mind the detention. Gave me a chance to read.”

  She smiled kind of surprised. “Good deal.”

  The Twirling Tulip was one of those old-fashioned spinning rides with a big round platform that swirled round and round and up and down like a dropped penny. In the center of each Tulip was a wheel you could grab with your friends from all sides and pull if you wanted to go faster. Not a guy ride by any stretch, but with a bunch of cheerleaders it seemed alright. While we waited for the other Tulips to fill up, Michelle leaned over the center wheel to Danny, “Hey, Danny, I’m really sorry what happened this morning. I thought it was really wrong what those guys did. I chewed Tim out afterwards. He’s going to apologize to you.” Danny shrugged his shoulders. She said distractedly, “Tim gets wound up pretty easy. Sometimes…sometimes bad.”

  I thought this sounded lame. “Hey, your boyfriend is a real jerk. One of these days he’s not going to get off with an apology.” I enjoyed saying that, since it happened that I was probably the only person in school who could make that a genuine threat.

  But Danny said, “Drop it, Joe. If he apologizes and leaves me alone, that’s fine.”

  I could tell he meant it. Also we were supposed to be having a good time. “All right. Sorry. I’m done.”

  “Hey,” Jen asked, in a let’s-change-the-topic tone. “I’ve always been curious about what you and Mr. Tan chat about after class? What are you learning that the rest of us aren’t?” She had psychology with Danny and me. She seemed okay, but we had never talked or anything, not before now. Different crowds, you know. 

  Danny looked surprised, then recovered and said. “Well, it’s actually stuff that’s not in the textbook. I read that the first couple weeks. I’m interested in how personalities develop, and how people decide they like things or don’t like things, like why some people like one kind of food and others don’t, even when everyone’s taste buds are biologically the same. I also wonder why…”

  Danny was going into professor mode. That’s what I called it. He just knew so much from his reading, and he got so excited about it all. When you mentioned one of his interests he could go on for hours, like a human encyclopedia. I always thought he’d make a great teacher some day, even though I personally only pretended to pay attention. I hoped Jen hadn’t asked just to make some chit-chat.

  “He’s kind of a whiz, isn’t he?” Sally whispered to me.

  “Yeah, he’s got some big brain on him.”

  It turned out that these swirl-around rides were great in mixed company. Everyone got bounced into each other this way and that, especially if you started spinning in one direction, then suddenly reversed it back the other way. It usually lead to some accidental touching and giggly “Oops, sorry” moments. I got into a few of those with Sally. We all laughed and had a good time. As we left the ride, Jen and Michelle were still chatting with Danny, asking him more about Mr. Tan’s class. He’d definitely put Michelle in a better mood. I started to think that maybe the cute in-crowd girls weren’t as stuck up as I’d thought…at least when they weren’t at school or
hanging out with the rest of the cool bunch. I thought maybe this was who they really were. But then I thought it was safer to doubt it.

  We went on a few more rides, like the Snake and the roller coaster and the Saw Mill. Then the girls voted for a trip to the Mansion of Horrors, which was just a walk-through thing with lots of twists and turns and people dressed up in cheapo monster outfits who leapt out at you and shrieked. I’d never been a ladies guy, and I didn’t even talk to girls from this crowd, but against my better instincts, I was starting to really enjoy Sally and accompanying her through a dark, frightening place seemed like a good choice.

  Then a familiar voice shouted from across the crowd, “Michelle! Hey, Michelle! Wait up!” We looked out over the crowd and there was Tim Hanson with his buddies Frank Mitchell, Stan Kent, and Steve Kinney. I didn’t really know Frank or Stan. Steve I knew from the year before when we were linebacker mates together on the varsity football team before my probation. He was an okay guy. Kept more to himself. Not as arrogant as most of the guys in the Tim Hanson posse. All four were coming our way.

  “Oh no,” Michelle said. “He better not be drunk.”

  Danny stiffened. I felt my jaw draw tight and my hands balled up, warming to a possible fight. I also found myself wondering whether Steve or Frank or Stan were linked to Sally in some boyfriend-girlfriend way. I didn’t keep informed on that gossip so I didn’t know.

  Tim and Steve were still wearing backpacks and I figured the whole group had probably spent the evening after school at the Taco Place before coming here. They did that sometimes, the kids with money; they’d go out for dinner on their own instead of going home. But I guessed they were still hungry because Steve was carrying a box full of sodas and candy. Michelle stepped forward and said, “Hey guys. Tim, tell me you haven’t been drinking.”

  “No, Michelle, we haven’t.” (Tim was talking to Michelle, but he slipped some puzzled glances at me and Danny.) “We were just cruising around and Stan noticed Sally’s car in the parking lot. Figured we’d join you. What are you—?”

  Michelle said, “We’re just hanging out with Danny and Joe. Doing a few rides.”

  Sally said, “Anything you want to say—Tim?”

  Tim shot Sally an annoyed expression, but then said to Michelle, “Okay, babe.  I was out of line this morning. You’re right.” He turned to Danny. “Hey, Answer-Boy.” Michelle scowled. “Danny, I mean. Danny. I’m really sorry about this morning. I know I have to apologize about what happened—“

  “This is a waste,” I said stepping forward.

  This provoked a ready-to-tussle look from Frank and Stan, while Steve just looked awkward holding his box of snacks. But Tim held up his hands and said, “It’s okay, Joe. I know. There’s no excuse. I’m having some trouble with my grades—some teachers are really out to screw me—and…well, I snapped.  And I blamed it on Danny. It wasn’t his fault, and I was wrong. Michelle dressed me down pretty good. I’m sorry."

  “He means it, Danny,” Michelle said.

  I grumbled, “Yeah, right.”

  Just then Tim grabbed the box of snacks out of Steve’s hands and held it out. “You know what? Why don’t you all take this stuff? And we’ll just go and let you have fun. Cool? Danny? Joe?”

  Danny looked stunned. I wanted to knock the box in the air and start swinging, but Sally stepped between us and picked a soda out of the box. Michelle repeated, “He’s sorry.” 

  Tim said, “I am man. It’ll never happen again”

  Danny said, “Okay.” 

  Naturally I made a big show of grabbing a Coke from the box (“Thanks, Tim, old buddy.”) and handing it to Danny, then picked some Skittles for myself (“These look real tasty.”) and gave out the rest of the stuff with a lot of theater to the girls. Tim’s boys didn’t do anything, but it certainly annoyed them. Maybe not Steve, so much. There was a nervous pause as everyone sipped their sodas. 

  Danny said, “Well, how about that Mansion of Horrors?”

  Tim held up his hand. “Wait. One more thing.” He slipped out of his backpack like a show-off, took some books out, a cell phone, some other small things, and—shifting his back to us as he snuck a bottle into his shirt (I peeked over his shoulder)—handed the bag to Danny. “I want you to take this. I noticed you don’t have one and, man, you really got too much stuff not to. This one’s kind of nice.”

  The girls agreed, and urged Danny to “Put it on.” “Put it on.” He did and they complimented him on how cool it looked.

  It did, too. A shiny dark blue with lots of pockets and glowing yellow zippers. If there were museums for backpacks this would be on display. But I was getting pissed-off. “Yeah, you look super awesome. Now how about that Mansion?”

  “Okay. Good,” Tim said. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.” I noticed him give Michelle a “good-enough-for-you?” glance, then he turned with Steve, Frank, and Stan towards the parking lot.

  I was glad to see them go, eyeing them hard as they left. Michelle tapped my arm. “I know you don’t trust Tim right now. But he’s getting there. I know him better than he knows himself sometimes.”

  I was about to argue, but Sally cut me off, pleading, “Haunted Mansion! Haunted Mansion!”

  Fifteen minutes later we all agreed that the “Mansion” was about the cheesiest scary house that ever existed, though it made for some pretty good laughs. Especially when the girls’ would go into fake screaming antics whenever a monster’s hand would reach out from some shadow.

  That’s how the rest of the evening went: roller coasters, water log rides, the octopus and the giant slide, laughter, lots of laughter, and snacks. It was close to eleven when we finally called it quits and walked to the parking lot. The girls had come in Sally’s car, but they followed us to my bike first. I straddled it and Danny jumped behind me with the helmet.

  “You know that back pack really does look cool on you. Better than on Tim,” Sally said.

  “It’s nice” Michelle said.

   “Thanks,” Danny said, looking pretty pleased with himself.

  I said, “Hey girls, this was fun. And if we see you in school, don’t get nervous, I won’t say hi and embarrass you or anything.”

  “Shut up,” Sally said. “I’ll be saying hi to you first, if anything.”

  I started the motor, but Danny wasn’t holding tightly enough—maybe cause of the girls standing there—so I yanked his hands around me and shouted “Strong grip!” The girls waved as we shot off.

  Once we were a few blocks away I yelled back, “I hate Tim Hanson.” 

  “But he gave me a backpack,” Danny shouted.

  I turned around at a stop light and said, “I think we should hock that thing and buy another one more your style. It’s not your kind of cool. We’re cool, but not rich cool.”

  I was serious, but he laughed. When the light turned green, I revved up fast and went into the usual swerving and veering routine. Danny was in high spirits behind me, laughing and shouting “Yoo-hoo!” We eventually entered the narrower streets of our neighborhood and as I came out of a crossing swerve, Danny got off a clipped “Yoo!” just as we slammed into a backing-up car. The collision must have made quite a noise, but I only remember a moment where I was dog-paddling in mid-air, just before careening into some grass hands first and rolling over and over like a bowling pin.

  I just lay on the ground for a minute, feeling a soft lawn beneath me, and gasping. The world was swirling and for a second I didn’t even know who I was. I felt a sharp pain in my chest; maybe a cracked rib. I looked up slowly and found myself lying in someone’s front yard. A woman was leaping out of the car. She was shouting “Oh, my God. Don’t move. Oh, my God. I’m getting help.” She ran into the house, screaming, “Call an ambulance.”

  I propped myself up on my right elbow. My left arm was numb and crooked. I couldn’t feel it, but the forearm was obviously snapped. I scanned around and saw Danny lying face up on the sidewalk about twenty feet away. I then rememb
ered he’d been riding behind me. “Dan—” I coughed. He wasn’t moving. I struggled forward on three working limbs, trying to get a fix on him and calling out his name. It was a tough slog because my head felt like it had been hit with a brick and my vision was jittering back and forth.

  Danny’s body was lifeless. He was on his back. His arms were flat to his sides as if he’d slid head first when he landed. A huge crack split the helmet down one side. It was seeping blood. The dark visor was down. I whispered, “Danny. I’m sorry. We’re getting help. Hold on.” I tried to push the visor over his face. It stuck. His open mouth was all I could see. I heard the woman behind me shouting “Don’t move. It’s important you don’t move. The ambulance is coming. Stay still.” She landed to her knees next to me and started clearing Danny’s mouth. Two other people were behind her. I tried to look up to their faces to say “Help him.” But then I passed out instead.