Lesson 2: Run Fast

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     "Hey Monty, what's jailbait doing down the Park?" quips Mazurk to the cute freshmen sister of one of the senior girls huddled under the lights beside the basketball court.

"None of your bee's wax" shoots back the blond and precocious girl, "it's a free world up here in the North."

"Well we're going up to the statues and I've got cherry bombs" he yells, heading over to his pink Chevy Vega. "Are you coming or what?"

"Both" she laughs, climbing into the back seat as others pile into the line of three cars.

"Let's go Weeds" commands Mazurk, waving me over from the basketball court as he hops in and starts the lead car.

__________

     Explosives were old hat for the Reed family. Every summer our father would return from one of his southern trips with the goods tucked under the sleeper of his green and tan Apgar Brothers truck. There'd be a carton of sparklers for us young'uns, a case of firecrackers for Blaine and Beat to sell at a dollar a pack, a box of cherry bombs, and a carton of Roman candles and rockets to set off in the yard on the fourth of July. The silver sparklers were good for a few nights of streaking across the yard, spelling out our names in the darkness, or duels decided by the last one to drop the searing wire. One year, after the sparklers were spent, Beulah pilfered a pack of Black Jacks from Beat's stash.

     "Wiley, light this for me and I'll throw it" she instructed from behind the shed.

The skinny gray fuse was bent down so I held the match to the top so it wouldn't burn the black and white checkered firecracker. I leapt away and Beulah whipped her arm back to throw as a loud crack reverberated in our ears.

"It got me" she hissed, afraid our mother would hear from inside the house as she ran over to the hose. "Here, run cold water over my thumb to keep it from swelling."

"Does it hurt?" I blurted, hovering on the edge of tears.

"Just a blister" she decided, reaching into the pocket of her jeans and handing me another firecracker. "Your turn, and I saw a bunch of slugs under the dog house."

     We tilted back the pink structure our father had build from wood scraps and broken shingles he'd hauled for Ruberoid. Grabbing a slimy gray slug in each hand, we plopped them in the middle of the yard. Two more trips and there was a pile of twelve writhing gastropods.

"Just wiggle it out a little to let you get away" advised Beulah as I carefully complied, grasping the bottom of the fuse between thumb and index finger and easing it out a quarter of an inch before sliding the firecracker down into the gooey mess.

"Happy birthday to you" sang Beulah from atop the dog house as I lit the tip of the fuse and took off across the yard, making it a dozen strides before getting pelted in the back by burning mollusk flesh.

"Eeuw" laughed Beulah, pinching her nose to the putrid stench that would envelope me and the yard for the rest of that week.

__________

     "I hate the mountains" whines Monty, ducking down to the floor of the backseat as Mazurk leads the line of cars up Mountain Avenue.

"It's all right" I whisper as we turn onto Hillcrest Road, hoping the three guys in the front seat don't see as I touch her shoulder.

The mysterious burlap wrapped statues appear in the headlights as we stop in front of a low rectangular house perched on the cliff side of First Watchung Mountain. A matching smaller blockhouse spouts flames from the stack of a large central chimney.

"This is the studio of renowned art deco sculptor Waylande Gregory" calls Newsy from the front seat.

"Let's see one" decides Mazurk, grabbing a handful of cherry bombs and marching over to the nearest statue with a few guys from the other cars.

     "Why do they call you Monty?" I ask as she hangs onto my knee from the floor of the car.

"My dumb mother named me after Dad's mom."

"Your grandmother's named Monty?"

"No silly, Caroline LaMonte, and don't you dare call me Sweet Caroline."

     Before I can respond there's a loud boom and a flash of light in front of the car. Mazurk scrambles back in and is peeling away as a head of wild white hair appears in a window of the studio.

"What was under all that burlap?" asks Newsy as we streak across Hillcrest Road.

"You're not going to believe this" smiles Mazurk as he slows the Vega down. "It was a mermaid going down on a snake-entwined man."

"Well no wonder he keeps them under wraps" chimes Monty from the floorboard. "Now get me down from these mountains."

     Later that night, after snapping off a toothbrush in my mouth and then tossing and turning for hours, I finally fall asleep seeing Monty's smile as we came down off First Watchung.