by Extra

"Did you get my article okay? I wrote it up on my laptop last night."

"Yeah, sure. It was fine, but it just didn't have that little extra zing, you know?" My editor was always looking for more 'zing'. "It needs something to pick it up. Didn't you tape a kid less acquainted with the dead kids?"

"No Dave, I thought interviews with friends, teammates and girlfriends would be enough. I know they're depressing, one of the girls was worse than that one from the teen suicide piece, but this isn't about a circus coming to town. Four seniors have died in less than eight months."

"I'm not asking you to find a silver lining I just want a different angle, all right Jacko? Why don't you see how the experience rippled through the school. Yeah, maybe you could call it 'Death's Ripple'. Has a lot more zing than 'When Accidents Take a Youth', okay buddy?"

"Sure Dave," I said," I'll call you in a few days." I try to write something that makes a reader think for once and he wants 'zing'.

The kids were already pouring out of the school when I got there so I parked as near the entrance as I could and watched the flow. I was watching for one of the older looking kids who didn't seem as popular as the friends of the dead boys had been. After the first charge tapered, I saw a kid in a dingy black t-shirt and Levis clunking along in heavy work boots. It might have been the sound of those boots which caught my attention, but looking back, I think it was his eyes. The way he moved was very loose but his eyes looked like they were scorching the ground before him.

I went up to him assuming my half-serious smile. "Hi, I'm Jack Messler. I'm a journalist with the Weekly Social News. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions concerning the recent tragedies here in Baysmith."

His eyes stopped burning for a moment while he looked around at me."Uh, I guess," he said, adjusting his backpack," Don't you wanna talk to someone who was a friend or somethin' of theirs?"

"Actually, I'm looking for someone who didn't know the boys that well. I've taken care of the other interviews already." I took my little notepad and nubby pencil out."So, could we meet sometime tomorrow? I'm sure you'll want to ask your folks if it's okay so here's my number at the hotel." I ripped the page off." Just call and tell me when and where-"

"Aw, my Dad won't care. I'll meet you at the Sub Basement tomorrow around four" he said, already clumping away, his heavy, red backpack with the name "Ed" patched on the top, bouncing slightly with each clump.

Ed appeared in the Sub Basement at 4:30, dressed in what seemed to be the same clothes as yesterday. He thumped his backpack next to the chair and sat down.

"Sounds like a pretty heavy bag you have there."

"Yeah, well, I like to keep my tools with me."

"Yes. Well, Ed, how-?"

"How'd you know my name", he asked, jerking his head up to stare at me.

"Oh, sorry, I saw it on your bag yesterday. Is there something you'd rather I call you?"

"Naw, it don't matter."

"Okay. Do you mind if I use this?" I held up my pocket recorder and he gave a favorable shrug. "Well, first, I want to ask you if you felt that your life has been dramatically changed by the tragic deaths of the past eight months."

"If you're gonna talk about death, for me it started a couple months earlier,night of June 12th., when my dog, Red Runner, got killed. Shot right in my front yard. I live kind of back in the woods so the cops thought it was some stupid hunters."

"Hmm, yes, well it sounds like you were very close to him but I was actually wondering if you had made any changes in your activities because of the accidents. I mean, Neil Fenrick's skateboard broke up on a steep hill, Brad Johnson had a skiing accident, and most recently, the steering on Dan Peterson's car seized killing him and Ted Carlson. Do you find yourself paying a lot of attention to things like your car or bike?" Ed let up his grip on the table's edge and started to rap his fingers. "Are you more cautious?"

"Well I don't do hotshot stuff like Brad and Neil did and I keep my car in awesome condition."

"Is taking care of your car what the tools are for?" I glanced down at his pack.

"Mostly, yeah. Y'know, Peterson always acted like he knew about cars. He really didn't know shit." Ed leaned forward but didn't lower his voice.

"Ah, so you knew Dan?"

"Naw, I was in a gym class with him and he had a big mouth. Him and the others were always talkin' about their cars and laughing at my Chevy."

"I take it there was no love lost between you and boys."

"Uh, I didn't know that Tom guy but I guess you could say that about the rest of them." Ed leaned back again and studied the ketchup stain on the table.

"The school probably seems better off to you now, right?"

"Well, my life isn't any better," he said clenching his fists.

"Ed, allow me to change the subject a bit," I said, trying to get more comfortable. "Are you very religious?"

"Me? Naw, my dad drags me to church for Easter and shit like that but that's about it. I did make a wood cross for Red Runner's grave, though. I figured if it were good enough for some people. . ."Ed's forehead creased as he picked at the stain.

"I was wondering if you thought that the accidents were merely the result of carelessness or do you think they were meant to happen? Do you believe in things like predestination or even hexes?"

"Um, I don't think this was a very good idea. I, uh, really haven't thought about this stuff much 'til now and it's, uh, kinda getting to me." Ed stood up, sniffed loudly, and hefted his backpack.

I thumbed the pause button and stood up ."It's all right Ed, I understand. Could we get together again sometime tomorrow?" He had already clumped out the door, his backpack denting the door's molding.

I didn't sit down immediately, caught up in my inner replaying of the scene. I didn't know who to call first, the police or Dave. It seemed there was a lot more 'zing' to this story than I thought.