The Fires of Spring by James A. Michener
“How old are you?” Nora asked.
“Almost fifteen,” David said. He smiled at the girl. She was not pretty, like the other two, but she had nicer teeth than they. She wore her hair long.
“How old do you think I am?” she asked, tilting her head. Her chin was firm.
“I think you’re twenty-one,” David replied.
“Nah!” she cried. “I’m nineteen!” She slipped down onto David’s lap. “Do you like girls?” she asked. Then, before David could reply, she asked, “Have you ever kissed a girl?”
“Don’t ask so many questions!” Betty cried from the dark corner where she and Max were lying.
“Yes,” David nodded.
“Like this?” Nora asked. She brushed David’s lips with hers, delicately. She wore perfume. David’s heart leaped with surging pleasure. Nora squeezed his shoulders. “You’re only a kid,” she said. “You come back in four years! Oooo-la-la!” She raised her eyebrows and kissed him lightly. He threw his arms about her and held her next to him. She pressed her face against his.
“You don’t shave, do you?” she asked. “Ah, you’re a sweet kid!” She hugged him again and lay back in the big chair. Her right hand gripped his knee. “You’ve got the world before you, kid,” she said dreamily. “What you goin’ to be when you grow up?”
“I don’t know,” David said.
“You go to school? Oh, sure you do! You get good marks?”
“Pretty good!” David said eagerly.
“I’ll bet you’re the best kid in the class, aren’t you?” she teased.
“Sometimes I am,” David replied. Nora hugged him.
“How did a sweet kid like you get mixed up with Volo?” she asked.
“Are they making love?” David asked, pointing to the alcoves.
“What do you think?” she asked, looking at him sideways. David grinned and said nothing. “Don’t you worry about that stuff, kid. You got plenty of time to worry about that. Take my word for it. You’re gonna be a fine fellow when you grow up. You can have any girl you want. You ever slept with a girl, kid?”
“Nope,” David said. “Not yet.”
“Well, don’t say it that way!” Nora cried. “Let me tell you something. Bend your ear way over.” She bit it and then whispered: “Don’t rush things, kid. You got plenty of time. But when you want to make love to a girl, always be nice to her. Understand? Give her little presents. Write her nice letters. Take her out. Tell her she’s the most beautiful girl in all the world. And listen, kid. Whenever you’re out with a girl don’t look at any other girl. See? Always your girl is the best. Not like these lunks!” She jerked her thumb at Volo and the brakeman.
“Do you have a fellow?” David asked. The smell of her sweet perfume was lovelier than anything he had previously known. He hoped that she didn’t have a fellow.
“We got lots of fellows,” she said. “Didn’t Volo tell you?”
“No,” David said.
“We work for Volo.” She turned her pretty eyes right at David. She swished her hair back with her left hand. “Betty lives here. Me and Janet come here most of the time. Max makes a lot of money, don’t he?”
“You mean you work here?” David asked, trying to get things clear in his mind. “Like Janet?”
Nora looked at him and smiled. “Now don’t get to worryin’ about things, kid. We like Volo. He’s a good fellow. And you’re sweet!” She swished her hair back again. “How soon do you have to get back to work?”
“It’s a rainy day,” David said. “I’ve been out pretty long already.”
“Look at this floor!” Nora said. “I’ll say it’s rainy! Tell me the truth, kid. Did you ever kiss a girl?”
“Mmm-hmm!” David said firmly.
“What was it like?” Nora insisted.
“Sort of funny.”
“Sort of funny!” she repeated, laughing. “Hey, Betty! He says kissing is sort of funny!”
“Give him one of your specials!” Betty cried harshly.
“Look, kid!” Nora laughed. “This’ll be your first kiss.” She wrapped David in her arms and kissed him feverishly. She placed his hand at the open buttons of her dress and pressed him to her. The boy, feeling as he did when fighting imaginary shadows on the road home, caught hold of the warm, fragrant girl and returned the kiss. She, feeling the surge of manhood in the awkward boy, relaxed for a moment. Then slowly she pushed him away and fixed her dress. “You’ve been kissed, kid. You kissed a girl,” she whispered. “That wasn’t funny, was it?” She stood up.
David had lost all sense of co-ordination. He seemed to be nothing but elbows and knees. He sat very still and watched the girl. She fixed her dress and her hair. She tilted her chin and grabbed her left hand with her right. Then she smiled down at him, extending her hand to help him up. As he rose, she pulled him to her. “You’re a sweet kid.” She laughed nervously. “We could have a good time together. You come back to see me next year.” David looked at her. She was his own height. He put his arms about her.
“I think you’re a fine girl,” he said huskily.
“How about buyin’ me a hot dog and some rootbeer?” she asked.
“Let’s!” he said eagerly. “How about them?”
“They’re good for hours!” she said, casting a contemptuous look at the brakeman’s feet.
David and Nora left the hidden room. Back among the dark scaffolding they picked their way along the narrow boards leading to the secret doorway beneath the waterfall. Overhead the mysterious dark hid the walls of the Coal Mine. Near the door the soft splashing of the waterfall on imitation rock made lovely music. Nora paused, and David caught up to her. His face was against hers and with an instinct born of the most fragmentary experience he fumbled with her dress until his hand and lips found soft sanctuary. “Oh, kid!” she sighed in the darkness. “Damn it all! Cut it out!” She pushed him away. He slipped on the slippery boards. One foot went into slimy water. “I’m sorry, kid!” she whispered, pulling him toward the door. Outside, the Park was its same magnificent, lonely, rainy self. The carrousel played softly in the distance. A wandering car shot echoing through the Coal Mine. And everywhere was the smell of burnt caramel from the popcorn stands.
David bought Nora two hot dogs and two glasses of rootbeer. She was soft and lovely, standing in the mist which blew down from the imitation waterfall. David suddenly had tears in his eyes. He wanted to imprison in his mind the vision of this girl, but while he watched he saw the vision fade, a pattern lost, a flashing beauty in the mind’s night that glimmered and was seen no more.
Nora walked with him to the loganberry stand. Before she got out of sight a short, thin man hurried up to her and took her possessively by the arm. An immense stab of pain captured David, and tears filled his eyes. He called for the stupid assistant who helped Max Volo. “Take the booth!” he said.
“You know I can’t do that!” the boy grunted.
But he had to, nevertheless, for David was hurrying down the gravel walk to the cashiers’ office. “I don’t want to work for Max Volo any more,” he announced.
“Why not?” the suspicious head cashier demanded. David stared back at the man. The head cashier started to ask a question, but thought better of it. Man to man, in the cold, mist-filled office he looked at the boy. He saw David’s determined chin, the broad, quick eyes that bespoke a certain moral stability. And David, in his turn, saw the man who tried to do his best, tried to keep stealing at a minimum, worked as decently as he could in a dirty, despicable job. Man to man they looked at each other. “All right,” the cashier said.
And that was how David came to be Mr. Stone’s assistant. Max Volo got a new cashier next morning. On the third day an uncontaminated spotter caught the unfortunate youth selling old tickets. The boy was sent to jail, but he never betrayed the man who gave him the tickets.
“So you finally got some sense!” Mr. Stone observed when his new assistant reported. “Max Volo’s loss is my gain.” He shook David’s h
He appointed David to the second-fare platform and fixed to his belt a register with a loud, tinkling bell. “When the cars unload,” he said, “you hurry along the train and ask the passengers if they’d like a second ride. If they do, collect the money and ring this register. Spotters will check you all the time, so don’t try to short-change the Company. If you do, I’ll know about it, and I’ll send you to jail. If you need money, ask me and I’ll give you some. Understand?”
David nodded at the austere man and adjusted the register. Mr. Stone studied him approvingly and said, “You’re in big business now. Some days you’ll do $500. So the smart trick is to learn the game right. Learn to make change. Work. Work. Work.”
He placed his arm about David and said, “I’m proud of the way you’ve behaved, so I’ll give you a few hints. When the train comes in, always stand up here at the front and work to the back. See why?”
“No,” David said.
“Because that way people lose sight of you as soon as you’ve short-changed them. If you stay in sight, they’ll remember their money. So make change very fast and get out of sight. Another thing. As soon as a train comes in, take a quick look for guys that have been having a hot time with their girls. Especially if a guy has been up a girl’s pants, he’s an easy touch, because his mind is on only one thing. Rush up, suggest another ride, slap the change into the hand he’s been working with, and he’ll pop it right into his pocket.”
Mr. Stone taught David much more about how to work the second-fare platform. Never stealing from the Company, David learned all the tricks. If he managed to swindle a man of five dollars he gave scrupulously correct change to everyone else in that car, so as to prevent arguments which might remind the robbed man of his money. He also learned to hand customers coins with each hand so as to make them think they were getting a lot of money.
The job never bored him. He was free of the awful pressure that working with Max Volo entailed. There was no ride in Pennsylvania like the Hurricane. The wild drops and twists frightened even the most durable spirits. Sometimes children would leave the ride in hysterics. Women would throw up and middle-aged men would be wild-eyed. But most of them reveled in the sheer agony of the ride, even though every year saw its fatal accident. High in the air, something would go wrong, and a car would shoot far into the sky and crash among the trees. Other cars would be whizzing around the Hurricane while the death car still sped to earth, and these later riders would see people flying through the air. David dreaded such moments, for it meant that when the others cars pulled into his platform people would faint and scream with fear. And yet he saw clearly that those who were thus saved always looked back toward the broken railing with grim satisfaction. They had got through! The deaths of others merely heightened their own miraculous salvation.
David further saw that after an accident the men of the Hurricane took a keener interest in their work. Their senses were sharpened, and their feeling of comradeship intensified. And finally, David discovered to his great surprise that even though the Hurricane killed at least one person every year, business never dropped off. Next day after an accident there would be more riders than before. Thrill seekers, young men and their girls, mauled one another as before and felt themselves to be extra brave for daring the high ride; and even those who had fainted returned to the scene of their horror. They fainted on Tuesday, but they came back on Wednesday.
“People are cattle!” Mr. Stone snorted contemptuously. “If you closed everything in this Park where a guy can gorge himself or get a good feel, we’d all go broke in a week. Study the swine carefully, kid. Notice everything they do to make fools of themselves. Then help them do it, and you can short-change them blind.”
There was one horrible aspect to the tragedies, however. Young girls were almost always involved. If they lived, they were disfigured for life. If they died, you saw them on the grass, their dresses over their heads, their white legs sprawled apart. Some man always hurried up, fixed their dresses and covered them with a coat.
One of these mangled girls had ridden around twice with a sailor. They were fine kids, breathless and in love. David saw the girl lying on the grass near the tracks of his old railroad, the Pennsylvania and Reading. “I feel sick,” he said to Mr. Stone.
“Don’t you worry, kid,” the cashier said. “It’s brutal, but it’s true. There’s more pretty girls in the world than can ever be used up. When you’re my age you see them all around you. Dried-up old maids. Not worth a penny to themselves or to anyone else. Never worry about what happens to young girls, kid. It’s what don’t happen to them that should really worry you.”
Max Volo took David’s escape from the loganberry stand philosophically. He apparently bore no grudge, for early in David’s tenure at the second-fare platform Max appeared clothed in mysteriousness. “It’s sensational!” he whispered.
“What is?” David asked suspiciously.
“The bell!” Max replied cryptically.
“What bell?”
“It’s like this,” Max explained enthusiastically. “You wear this bell under your shirt, and it ain’t no ordinary bell. A man who works for the company that makes your fare bell slips me this special one on the side.”
“What’s this all about?” David demanded.
“Like I said!” Max wheezed. “Under your shirt is this bell. You ring it with your elbow and pocket the fare. Nobody can tell the difference.” The little man beamed at David.
“I don’t want your bell,” David said.
“Look!” Max explained. He flicked his elbow imperceptibly and a sound exactly like David’s fare bell sounded. “I pay the guy fifty bucks to give me this. I let you have it for seventy-five. In a month you could knock off five hundred dollars!”
“No!” David exploded.
“OK,” Max agreed promptly. “You think that’s too risky. I got another angle. I know the spotter who works your beat. For twenty bucks a week I tip you off. Why, you could palm fares so fast nobody could see you.”
David was disgusted. “Get the hell out of here, Max!” he exploded.
“Sure!” the little man said. “But I think you’d like this!” He whisked before David’s startled eyes a glossy photograph of Nora, completely undressed and smiling at the camera. Max moved the picture just slowly enough for David to see clearly and indelibly what the picture was. “Costs only two bucks,” Max whispered.
Three thoughts flashed through David’s mind in that fragmentary moment. “I could beat this guy up,” he thought at first. Then as the exquisite thrill of the picture took effect he thought: “I’d like to have that.” And instantly he thought: “Nora! She’s a good kid.” He shared none of his thoughts with Volo, who stared at the boy, sighed heavily, and walked away.
David saw Nora several times after that, but not at the Coal Mine. He saw her sidling through the Park, walking aimlessly until some young man picked her up. Then she insisted upon riding the Hurricane. Thin, tense, her lips white with fear, she swept through the heights and dizzy depths of the wild ride. When the car stopped at David’s platform she stepped out, dazed. Then, clenching her fists, she would take a deep breath and smile at David before she disappeared with her young man toward the Coal Mine.
Occasionally she would ride alone, sitting by herself in a corner of the car, trembling violently when the mad dash was over. “What do you ride for if you’re so scared?” David asked her one day.
“You gotta do something,” she joked.
“Want another one?” he asked.
“With you? Sure!” He tossed his register to a brakeman and jumped in beside the shivering girl. Then, far above Paradise; he and Nora clung to each other and surveyed the tawdry land below them, the crooks, the whorehouse beneath the Coal Mine, the spotters, and the thieves. The car dipped wildly, and Nora shrieked. David did not try to kiss her or clutch at her dress, and
She returned often to the Hurricane and told David that if he ever wanted to revisit the room beneath the waterfall he could. “You’re a big boy now. You know what goes on down there, but I guess you don’t wanta be mixed up in it, do you? Well, you’re smart, but if you ever want to come down, we can have a good time. Just kissing and stuff like that. Not like Max and Betty.” David usually took her to dinner on such days, and they ate hog dogs with sauerkraut.
“Max showed me your picture,” David said one evening as they ate.
“You mean?” She flicked her fingers down the front of her dress.
“Yes,” David replied, his voice choked with excitement.
“I’m skinny, ain’t I?” she teased.
“You’re a sweet girl!” he avowed passionately.
“Sure I am,” she said softly, piling more sauerkraut on her hot dog. “Only I got some bad breaks. But I got some good ones, too. Right now a gentleman wants to marry me. Only he’s a Polack. Achh!” She spit into the gravel. “You’d never catch me marryin’ a Polack. They beat their women somethin’ awful.” She looked at David with deep, flashing eyes. “I’d never marry a guy who beat his wife. I’d kill him, that’s what.”
One night Mr. Stone saw David talking with Nora and after the little prostitute had gone, the gray cashier said, “I suppose you know who she is.”
“Yes,” David said, not certain that he did know.
“I suppose you know that she’s one of the girls Max Volo keeps in the Coal Mine? He rents them out. To anybody who wants them. Have you been fooling around there?” David did not reply, and the older man asked sharply, “How much do you know, kid?”
“Oh, I know!” David said bravely.
“Well, do you know this?” Mr. Stone asked forcefully. In ten minutes he told David more than Old Daniel had been able to explain in an hour and a half. They stood beneath a carrousel shed, where the waltz from Faust played on and on, mixed with the unfeeling words of Mr. Stone as he described what David’s future would be if he caught certain diseases.