During winters with lots of ice and snow, Munger's did very well and paid the city a lot in taxes. Everybody enjoyed themselves sledding, battling in snowball fights, or making money.
Jerry was dragging the sled behind him by steering ropes he'd fashioned from clothesline. He was wearing his old green parka with the fur-edged hood, a black watch cap, thick corduroy pants, and rubber boots with metal clasps.
He waited for a clear path all the way down the hill, then held his sled with both hands off to his right side and ran. With each stride he bent his knees a little more until he was running in a crouch. He flung himself forward and at the same time brought the sled around so it was beneath him. He landed on it and lay on his belly, gripping the steering rope that was fastened to the sled's wooden yokes. All very smooth.
The sled moved slowly at first and then began picking up speed. It was going to be a good run.
He glided past two girls seated on a slower sled. Hit a slick spot and flashed past some little kids rolling in the snow. He was really traveling now. The cold breeze was getting inside his hood, causing his ears to sting.
At the bottom of the hill, he chose not to crash the sled into the hay bales, as did many of the sledders. Instead he yanked the rope back with his left hand and shifted his weight to the right, raising the leading edge of the sled's left steel runner. The sled veered sharply to the left, dug into the snow, and tipped abruptly to the right, spilling Jerry off and into the soft bale.
Perfect!
He stood up and brushed snow off his coat and pants, then wiped away some that had sneaked under his collar.
That was when he saw another sled bearing down on him. A slight figure in a blue parka was lying flat on it. Chrissie Keller, staring up at him, grinning widely and screaming for him to get out of the way. He knew it was Chrissie even at a distance. She was the twin who wore her thick stocking cap rolled up at the bottom. He had cataloged in his mind details like that about the girls.
'Jerrrry! Move!'
He could have, but why? Her sled wasn't traveling that fast, and if he lifted his feet and pretended he was trying to dodge the sled, he might land against the bale in a bundle with the sled and Chrissie. The prospect created a familiar tightening in his groin.
He yanked his right foot back just in time so the sled's runner wouldn't glide over it, then acted as if he'd lost his balance and landed on top of Chrissie and the sled. They rolled and lay in each other's arms at the base of a bale. The sled was upside down on top of them.
Everything but the sled was soft. Nobody hurt.
They were both grinning.
'You okay?' Jerry asked.
'Nothing broken,' Chrissie said.
'You sure?'
They struggled to their feet, helping each other up, and brushed away the snow.
'I'm sure,' Chrissie said. He could see her breath fogging in the cold air.
'Sometimes you can't tell till you feel,' Jerry told her. He pulled her close and slid his hand beneath her parka. Her sweater had come untucked, and he felt the warm soft flesh of her firm belly.
To Chrissie, the hand might as well have been carved from ice. 'Jerry, damn it! Stop!'
But he didn't want to stop. And right now didn't even care if someone noticed.
She gripped his wrist and pushed his arm and hand away. The effort caused her to lose her balance and fall, dragging him down with her. They sat in the snow with their backs against the bales.
'You afraid somebody might see?' Jerry asked.
Chrissie made no attempt to get up. 'It isn't right. I don't want you to do that again.'
'We all have our secrets,' Jerry said, watching his own breath fog in front of his face.
'You and me aren't gonna have that one.'
'I know your secret,' Jerry said. He swallowed. 'I've got the same one.'
She looked horrified for a few seconds; she knew what he meant, and briefly thought about confiding in him. He could see the indecision in her eyes.
Tell me, Chrissie. We'll tell each other. That'll make it all right. Or at least better.
Her lips parted slightly, and then her expression hardened.
'I don't know what you're talking about, Jerry.'
'Yes, you do.' He took a deep breath, gathering courage, and tried to kiss her.
She shoved him away violently and attempted to stand, but her feet shot out from under her and she fell back down.
'Damn you, Jerry! Don't try that again! Ever!'
'I didn't know you cussed. Knew you did other things, though.'
'You're too old for me, Jerry.'
'What? A year?'
'You'd be too old for me if I was thirty and you were thirty-one.'
He gave her a look that scared her. 'If we were those ages…'
'What?'
'Nothing.'
She stood up on her own and stayed on her feet, brushing the snow off her parka. 'Keep that in mind, Jerry. Nothing. Not if you were the last boy on this earth.'
'We're the same,' he said.
She acted as if she didn't know what he was talking about, but she did know. He was sure she knew that he watched sometimes at night. Both twins knew.
'We're the same,' he said again. 'You, me, and Tiffany.'
And suddenly Tiffany was there, on a sled that looked brand new. Its curved steel runners were still painted bright red. The red was so vivid against the white snow.
Almost in the instant she appeared, Tiffany deftly turned the sled sideways and dragged her boots in the snow. She came to a smooth stop and stood up, holding the sled on end and leaning on it.
'You, me, and Jerry what?' she asked her twin.
But Chrissie was gazing beyond her, toward the top of the hill.
All three of them looked.
The twins' father stood staring down at them, his feet spread wide and his fists propped on his hips.
'Nothing,' Jerry said.
Dragging his sled by its steering rope, he began trudging back up the hill, but at an angle, away from Mr. Keller.
'Nothing!' Chrissie echoed behind him.
The desperation in her voice stayed with him always.
'You were talkin' to Chrissie Keller,' Jerry's mother said, when he'd returned home. He'd struggled out of his snow-crusted coat, hat, and boots and left them piled on the floor in the mud room off the kitchen.
Still in her white terry cloth robe, his mother was seated at the kitchen table, her hands invisible in her lap.
'Sure,' Jerry said. 'She lives next door and we go to the same school.'
An empty bottle flew through the air and crashed into the wall beside him. It was his first realization that his mother was drunk. Usually she started in heavily with the gin in the early evening, when she was off work from her waitress job at Vellie's, where they served only breakfast and lunch. But today was her day off.
The throwing motion had caused her robe to open, and one of her breasts was entirely visible. She automatically pulled the robe closed with a quick motion of her right hand.
'I ask you a question,' she said, 'don't give me a shit answer.'
'I wasn't-'
She raised her right hand palm out and shook her head back and forth violently. 'You hear me? I mean, you hear what I said?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
