Short Story I wrote I while ago . . .
The Kid by JM
The sun began its descent. The Freeport charter-boat distanced itself from the shoreline. The kid stood in the stern and watched one of the mates cut up squid with a sharp fillet-knife. The mate wore black rubber boots and jeans and no shirt. He was a thin and wiry guy with a long pony-tail. Another mate approached and had a wad of money in his hand. The kid pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to him. He paid twelve dollars to fish, three dollars for a fishing pole rental and five dollars for the pool. He had never won the pool ever, but the thought of catching the biggest fish and winning everybody else’s money always made him very excited, it added a little something extra to the trip.
The kid walked over to the stern rail and watched the land disappear completely. When the sun set the captain turned on several lights. The waves became choppier and the charter-boat at times seemed as if it came off the water. He let go of the rail and walked back over to the mate and continued to watch him cut up bait. The mate took a gander at him. The kid wore sneakers and jeans and a white Mets jersey and a blue Mets cap. “Who’s you’re favorite player?” the mate said. The kid shrugged his shoulders. “I like them all. I guess if I had to choose I’d say George Foster. I saw him at the Wantagh McDonald’s one time, he gave me an autograph. He was pretty okay,” he said. The mate looked up into thin air and nodded okay. “Yeah, good ol’ George,” he said. He continued to cut bait and take glances at the kid. The kid fixated on the slicing of the squid. “Who you here with?” the mate said. The kid shrugged his left shoulder. “Myself,” he said. The mate nodded oh, okay. The kid pulled off his cap and ran his left hand through his short dark hair and then put his cap back on. “Your old man don’t like to fish?” the mate said. The kid looked at the mate and then paused. “My parents aren’t around. It’s just me and my grandfather. He’s got arthritis and don’t like to fish.” The mate slightly nodded okay, just you and your grandfather. He stopped cutting the squid up and placed down the knife and wiped both his hands on his jeans. He stuck his right hand out to the kid. “My name’s Rob,” he said. The kid stuck out his right hand and shook Rob’s hand. “My name’s Jimmy,” he said. Rob picked up the knife and began to cut up the squid again. “You go to school? What grade you in?” Rob said. The boat hit a large wave and slightly flew up into the air and slapped down on the water. The kid spread out his arms and maintained his balance and looked like a novice surfer getting up on his board. “I just graduated twelve grade,” he said. Rob slightly pointed the sharp fillet-knife at him. “You look younger,” he said. The kid looked at him and didn’t say anything. Rob winced as if he expected a response and didn’t get one, and then continued to cut up more squid. “You going to college next year?” he said. The kid thought about it for a second. “No,” he said. Rob stopped cutting up the squid. He slightly pointed the knife at him again. “Why not?” he said. The kid threw up both palms. “I wasn’t good in school,” he said.
Rob continued to cut up the squid. “If you graduated highschool, you should go to college,” he said. The kid nodded in agreement. “I barely graduated, though,” he said. The horn sounded and the engine turned off and the charter-boat drifted over the waves. Rob stopped cutting the squid and picked up a dirty white hand-towel and wiped his hands. “Well, I gotta go hand out this bait to everybody. I’ll be back here later to see how you’re doing. Good luck,” he said. The kid walked over to the stern rail and took his fishing-pole out of the white fishing-pole holder and got it ready.
Midnight drifted in with the wind and rain. The waves excessively rocked the boat and sent all the passengers with the exception of the kid to the inside of it where it was warm and dry. Nobody had gotten a nibble the entire trip.
The kid stood in the stern and fished. The captain sounded the horn to signify that the trip was over and to reel all lines in. A dejected look surfaced on the kid’s face. Standing in his wet sneakers and wet jeans and wet Mets jersey and wet Mets cap he reeled in his line. Lightning sheets shot down and claps of thunder sounded. He looked up into the inclement sky. The captain again sounded the horn to signify that the trip was over and to reel all lines in. The kid continued to reel his line up and then paused. The rod’s tip bent downward. He slowly reeled up the line and felt a pull on it. The rod’s tip violently went down and pulled him forward. The rod was vertical with the boat’s side. He was on his tip toes against the rail and hunched over the top of it. He regained his balance and reeled in the line. Rob and the captain stood at the top of the boat and saw that the kid’s rod was bent. Rob descended the stairs and the captain turned off the engine. The forty or so people inside stood up and looked out to see why the captain had turned off the engine. The fish pulled the kid to the stern’s right side and then back to the left. He wiped out on the deck but held onto the rod. Rob approached him from behind and stuck his two hands under the kid’s armpits and lifted him back up. Rob looked over the rail and saw that the line led to under the boat. The wind and rain and lightning and thunder increased. Rob looked up at the captain and with his right pointer finger made a circle for the captain to turn the boat. The captain turned back on the engine and maneuvered it around. The line dragged away from the boat’s stern. The kid pulled on the rod hard and then reeled in the slack. He glanced at Rob and then continued to look forward. A lightning sheet struck down on the water no more than forty yards away. He slightly dropped his jaw and shot Rob a look of fright and amazement. “Keep reeling, keep reeling,” Rob said.
He pulled back hard on the rod and quickly reeled in the slack. The sick and pale faces inside continued to watch. The captain threw the spotlight on the water behind the stern. More lightning sheets shot down in the distance and more claps of thunder sounded. The rod’s tension increased and made an arc. “You want some help?” Rob said. The kid nodded no. He continued to reel in the tight line. “If it’s pulling that hard it can’t be a sea robin,” Rob said. The kid nodded in agreement and then pulled back on the rod and quickly reeled in the slack again. “Be careful, don’t let it off,” Rob said. The kid nodded again in agreement and kept his left forearm stiff with the pole tightly clutched in the grasp of his upside down left hand. Rob watched the kid take his right hand off the reel to wipe rain and sweat out of his face, he placed his right hand under the rod, a few inches higher than the reel, to give support. He moved his hand away when the kid continued to reel the line in again. The rain continued to crash down on the water and when it hit it continued to jump up all over the place like little dancers. The lightning sheets continued to shoot down and the claps of thunder continued. A strong wind carried mist and rain into the stern. The kid continued to reel in the line and the captain continued to keep the spotlight in place. “I think I see it,” Rob said. The fish pulled hard and the kid jerked forward and momentarily stopped reeling. Rob hurried over to the stern’s right side and grabbed a long gaff. The kid continued to hunch over the rail and reel in the line. Rob clutched the back of the kid’s jersey. The kid straightened up and pulled on the rod hard and out of the depths of the livid ocean a large blue fish surfaced. It pulled the kid to the left. The captain kept the spotlight on it. It continued to swim around beneath the water’s surface and looked like some type of swirling demon spirit in a witch’s cauldron. The kid stopped reeling and held onto the rod. Rob tied a rope around his own waist and then tied the other end to the rail.
He leaned over and missed gaffing the fish on the first try. On the second try he gaffed it right under its gill and pulled it into the boat. It flopped near the kid and the kid got out of its way. Rob picked it up by the tail and threw it into a white cooler. “It’s about twenty pounds,” Rob said. “Good catch.” The sick and pale faces turned around and sat down on the wooden planks and slumped and readied themselves for the choppy two hour trip back. The captain turned off the spotlight and started the engine and turned the boat towards the mainland. Rob and the kid climbed the steps up to the captain and stood with him. The kid looked back and saw the lightning sheets in the distance and heard the claps of thunder.
Rob and the captain stood in silence and steered the ship inland. The kid sat in the captain’s chair and faced the other way. He watched as the stormy weather disappeared into the distance and the boat-ride smoothed out. His eyelids slumbered and his head fell to the down left. He dreamt about the wind and rain and lightning and thunder. He dreamt that God gave him a standing ovation. Claps of thunder! Claps of thunder! He turned his head left and right. No, he thought, it was no big deal, no need to applaud me, I mean after all, aren’t I smarter than a fish? No, he thought God conveyed, you’re not smarter than a fish. Claps of thunder! Claps of thunder! He continued to turn his head left and right in his wearisome slumber. I’m not smarter than a fish, he thought. Claps of thunder! Claps of thunder!
He woke up as the boat arrived at the docks and the mates tied it down. He descended the stairs into the stern and watched Rob weigh his fish. It weighed twenty pounds and six ounces. Rob cut up the fish and handed him a clear plastic bag full of fillets. Thirty six people entered the pool for a combined total of a hundred and eighty dollars. He told Rob that he could have half since he pulled the fish into the boat. Rob was taken back by the kid’s generosity. He declined the money, though. The kid saw his grandfather stood on the docks and waited to drive him home. He held the bag of fillets over his head. His grandfather nodded good. The kid disembarked with the rest of the passengers and drove home with his grandfather. He told his grandfather that he won the pool and had a hundred and eighty dollars. He told him that he had enough money to go fishing at all his favorite fishing spots all summer long. He told him what a great way to start off the first weekend of the summer. His grandfather didn’t ask him if he had decided on what he would do or not now that school was officially over. He had liked the fact that the kid spent a lot of time fishing because it meant that he could do a lot of thinking. He felt bad that he didn’t have any answers for him. Little did he know that the kid didn’t do much thinking. His mind mainly remained blank like a fish. He just fished and took in the landscapes and didn’t think much. He thought about what he would do after highschool once but he couldn’t come up with any possibilities. It tired his mind to think about it. It left him confused. It was like trying to think about the origin of God.
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