The Train

The bike wheel was still spinning as the boy sat dazed beside it on the ground. His knee was scraped and lightly bleeding as tears slipped slowly down his cheeks. When his big brother skidded to a stop beside him, he turned to him and tried to stand up. They both heard the train whistle at the same time.

“Are you kidding me?” his brother said. “It’s an hour early.”

The boy got up on shaky legs now with added fervency.

“Leave the bike there and get on my handlebars. Hurry,” he said.

“But my bike…”

“We’ll come back for it. Hop on.” His feet were already back on the pedals as he pulled his brother up and they quickly fled down the bumpy road. Faster and faster they rode, the younger boy tightly hanging on. All that was left of his tears were some dirty streaks on his sticky cheeks.

The bike was barely stopped when his father plucked him from the handlebars and carried him into the house, screen door slamming behind them. His brother was a few steps back, telling his father to be careful with the boy’s scraped knee.

But the boy was fine. He squirmed out of his father’s arms, leaving spots of blood on his shirt and ran across the room just in time to watch the circus train squeal along the tracks outside the back kitchen window. Car after car zoomed past as he pressed his face and hands against the glass, trying to get as close as possible and not miss a second of it.

He had to see the train even though he knew that this was the year he would get to go to “the big top” and not just watch it pass by his window.


Wc 296