There was nothing remarkable or unusual about that summer day, except for the fact that we were all a little more energetic. It was Todd’s thirteenth birthday tomorrow, and we all knew that there would be cake and toys and games and one of those large rented houses that you filled up with air and bounced around in. His birthday parties were always the greatest because his family was the richest, and we were sure that he was the most loved, too. After all, we never got bounce houses. Just Todd.
I don’t think that any of us wished him any ill will on that day. I know I didn’t; he was my hero. It amazed me that a sixth grader, especially one like Todd, would cast his eyes on me, a mere fifth grader. I should have meant nothing, but instead I spent my time after school and weekends and recess playing with him and his friends.
We were concerned with cake. Yellow or chocolate? Would there be sprinkles? There would surely have to be ice cream.
It was nearly four o’clock when we got to the bridge. We played here every day, despite warnings from our mothers not to go too close to any edges. We sniffed at these remarks. We were, after all, twelve and thirteen years of age, so close to the edge of adulthood that we were nearly teetering off. Their admonitions didn’t make sense anyway; there was no water under the bridge, just some dirt and a few rocks that didn’t hurt too much if you were careful when you jumped off the side into the gully.
We approached, a huddled group of five boys, armed with sticks to beat the surrounding bush to death. Mark ran forward towards the bridge. He tossed his stick carelessly aside and started clambering up onto the railing. The bridge was wooden and rickety, but it held his weight. He straightened proudly.
“Hey, look at me, you guys!” Cockily, he spread his arms out, an eagle above us. This was the first time any of us had dared to be so high.
“You’re going to fall,” Jim said knowingly. “Then your mom will yell.”
“I won’t fall!” He stood, three feet above our heads, proud, and demeaning us. “You guys are wimps.”
Todd bristled beside me. “We’re not wimps. You want to fight?” He was the tough guy, sure of himself, our emotional and spiritual leader.
Mark laughed and jumped down. “Nah. Try it. Look how high you feel.”
Ryan considered this for a moment, and before Todd could respond, pulled himself up. “Wow. It’s pretty high up here if you look over the edge.”
Jim was glaring. “You guys are stupid. You’re definitely going to fall.”
“I’m not clumsy,” Ryan replied, nonchalant, then leapt off again. “It’s a little scary, but not really.”
“I want to try,” Todd said. His voice had been the first of ours to lower, and it cracked slightly. A grim look of determination swept his face.
He dropped his stick beside me and strode defiantly towards the bridge. Using both hands, he pulled himself up on top of the railing. He was the tallest of all of us and his balance wasn’t quite as good as those who had not yet grown, but he straightened, slowly at first, then until he was his full height. He looked like he was straining against the sky.
“Todd, get down,” Jim said, his voice high-pitched and nervous. “You’re going to fall.”
I stood where I was, watching, admiring. I had just turned twelve, so Todd was almost a year older than I was. With his brash, fearsome ways and doting parents, he managed to get away with anything he wanted. If he jumped off the railing now, I was sure that he could fly.
“I won’t fall,” Todd retorted, sure and steady. “Watch this.”
He started inching along the railing, one slow foot in front of the other, his arms out for balance. He bit his lip in concentration, then started to move a little faster. He grinned and started walking, walking for real, proud and fearless.
But he was moving too fast for me now. What if our mothers were right? “Todd, be careful!” I called, starting towards him.
He turned his head sharply, a sure smile etched onto his lips that suddenly contorted into shock. I watched as his feet left the railing and then as he flew, not into the sky as I had imagined, but like lead, lanky, flailing lead, into the dirt and rocks below. After the abrupt crack of bone, there was nothing in the air but silence and a few bird calls.