Theo Corrigan had it right — Kevin was indeed stranded on top of my mountain. He’d free-styled his way to the summit, and now, perched like a gargoyle three stories high, he refused to budge. I scanned the crowd that had gathered and spotted Connie at the foot of the tower, urging Kevin to be calm. The onlookers had formed a semicircle around her, like this was some sort of play that Pecanland was staging for them.
I pushed my way through and could see that Connie was trying her hardest not to cry. Her chin was quivering, and I wondered for a second whether this would be our moment at last — if now she would let me pull her close, let me hold her right there in front of Kevin and all those gawkers. I would kiss her on her forehead and tell her that I’d fix this.
But no. When I was almost to her Connie threw her arms up as if halting a hell-bent runner at third. “Stop,” she said. “Just stop.”
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “Simon went to fetch a ladder.”
I backed off and Connie hollered up to her boy. “Help is coming,” she said to him. “Okay, Kev?”
Kevin nodded slightly and then called back to her. “I’m sorry, Mama,” he said. “They dared me.”
“I understand,” said Connie. “Just don’t move.” One of those tears she’d been fighting went streaking down her cheek, and she spoke without looking at me. “Where is that goddamn ladder, Joe?”
“It’s coming,” I said. “I promise.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I can’t believe you leave this stupid thing unattended.”
Though it wasn’t really true, I tried to explain that this was all Simon’s fault, that he went to the arcade without unscrewing the lower handholds to childproof the mountain. I told her this but could see that she wasn’t listening. Her attention was focused on Kevin, and so finally I just shut my mouth.
“Will you climb up there and be with him at least?” she asked. “Will you do that for me?”
I put my hand to my ruined shoulder. It would sometimes throb in stressful situations, and it was hurting me badly right then. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but actually I can’t.”
“You mean you can’t even climb your own mountain?” Connie shook her head. “Incredible.”
We were still waiting for Simon to show when Kevin made his move. “I’m coming down,” he said. “I can do this by myself.” Connie yelled at him to keep still, but he lay flat on his belly and began to inch himself off the edge of the tower. His small foot found a rough lip of fiberglass, and then he reached over and grabbed a handhold. He lowered himself further, and for a brief moment it seemed to me like the kid had it, that he’d be safe in no time — and maybe Kevin started thinking the same thing, because just then he looked down. Mistake. His knees betrayed him, bouncing like sewing needles as he struggled to keep firm purchase with slippery fingers and rundown Nikes. Rejecting the mountain, his body collapsed all at once. Connie screamed, and I felt my chest heave as that boy tumbled toward me.
