**From The Big One by Mike Krysiuk and Julia Bobkoff**

Vista was a combination liquor store and bar just over the New Canaan line on Route 123. This was a popular place because, in Connecticut, the blue laws restricted the sale of alcohol and beer to 8 p.m. In New York, you could buy it any time. After I showered and changed, it would be after eight. I ran off to the locker room and got washed up and dressed as fast as I could.

All the guys were grumbling about our loss, but I was excited to get the card from the scout. I placed it carefully in my wallet for safekeeping. I left the gym ahead of the pack and jogged across the parking lot to Ted’s car. Turns out Jim wanted to ride shotgun, but I wanted the seat of honor, so Ted ﬂipped a coin. I watched it spin in the air then land in his open palm. He shut his ﬁngers quickly then slowly opened them again. I saw George Washington’s face staring up at me.

“Heads—Mike’s with me.”

Jim shrugged and walked off. I folded my huge body into Ted’s car, almost regretting the choice; this coupe was made for someone half my size.

The moment I got in, Ted ﬁred it up and off we went. Dave swung out behind us in his mom’s blue station wagon.

It was a cool, spring night, and we had the windows cracked. I could smell the fresh wind and everything felt perfect, at least until Ted ﬂicked on the news. The radio announcer’s voice was ﬂat and somber: “US airpower is being limited by bad weather. And military analysts are wondering how many steps the South Vietnamese can take backward before they again stop and make a stand against the enemy advance…”

Ted voiced my thoughts: “I’m sick of the news. Let’s hear some good tunes.”

“Now you’re talking. Put that tape on you borrowed—the one you keep saying you’ll give back to me.” We both laughed and he popped it in. The Rolling Stones blasted through the speakers: “I can’t get no satisfaction.”

Ted smiled at me: “Those days are over for you, buddy. After today, this song is old news.”

It only took us thirty minutes to get to Vista. We swung into the busy parking lot in front of the old liquor store. Dave jumped out of his car fast, but I had to unfold my 6’4”, 185-pound frame from Ted’s Triumph. He handed me a wad of cash, and then I ran after Dave.

I caught up as he entered the store. Over to the right were two huge refrigerators with glass doors. There was so much beer to choose from. But we always bought Budweiser because it was the cheapest—we could get the most for our buck. I never worried that we’d get carded. Dave and I were the tallest and looked like we were eighteen.

I turned to him and said under my breath, “Just be cool like we’re not stealing anything.”

He winked back at me, “Ah, La Craze.”

The man behind the counter had tattoos on his forearms and wore glasses. He was partially balding and well-built, maybe ﬁve-six or seven.

He just looked up at us, not too intimidating: “Is that all you want, guys?”

“Yeah,” said Dave nonchalantly.

I handed the clerk the money, and he gave us the change. It was that easy. We walked out, a six-pack in each hand, ready to divvy up the beer. For a moment I stopped in my tracks, watching a pretty blonde walk by.

Then Jim reached over from the passenger seat and honked the horn at me, yelling out the window: “Get your asses over here with those Buds!” Then he honked again, showing he meant business.

Ted yelled out his window: “Stop beeping the horn. Someone will call the cops. You’re making so much God damn noise.”

Then Barrett, as if he hadn’t heard a word Ted just said, stuck his head out the window and stated the obvious: “Yeah, yeah, they got the beer, they got the beer!”

As I got closer, I could see Barrett through the window excitedly beating the headrest in front of him like an Indian with his war drums.

He almost hit Jim in the back of the head, and he spun around and shouted in Barrett's face: “Watch what you’re hitting, boy! ‘Cause if you hit me I’ll knock you on your ass.”

Barrett wasn’t very tall, so I could picture that happening. Everybody was always beating on Barrett.

Then Dave, the voice of reason, tried to take control: “You guys are crazy. Put a lid on it. We gotta get home. We got school tomorrow and Mike shouldn’t even be here.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to get his old man mad.” Jim reached out to take the beer through the window.

I handed one of my six-packs to him. Everyone snapped one off and began to pop the tops. I leaned in the window: “See you guys tomorrow at school. Let us lead the way. I gotta get home ﬁrst.”

Brian toasted me from the back seat: “To the Big One! You really kicked ass today.”

“Thanks, buddy! See you tomorrow.”

Then I went over to Ted and handed our six-pack through his window. “Here, take it.”

“Where’s my change?”

“Dave’s got it.”

“Kiss that goodbye.”

Then I folded my body back into the passenger seat. I was tempted for a moment to grab a beer then decided against it. I didn’t need my mom smelling alcohol on my breath when I got home. The last time that happened she grounded me for a week. Ted popped his lid and then pushed the tape back in. Dr. John’s “Right Place, Wrong Time” came on as we peeled out of the parking lot. I turned and looked through the back window. Dave’s car had done its usual—failing to start. I bet he was cursing the engine. I could imagine him now: “Goddamn it, what did my old man do to it this time?”

We were far ahead of them. I sat back and enjoyed the ride. When the song got to the instrumental, I played some mean air guitar. Ted picked up speed and the telephone poles started to whiz by. It made me think of those lyrics from 𝘏𝘰𝘵 𝘙𝘰𝘥 𝘓𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘯: “Now the boys all thought I'd lost my sense, And telephone poles looked like a picket fence.” It was a cool, clear night—no traffic on the road. The telephone poles were turning to a blur. I glanced over at the speedometer. Ted was pushing 100 mph.

I yelled at him: “Slow this goddamned thing down!”

He just laughed as the needle edged higher. The car started to shimmy. “Stop laughing you asshole—you’re gonna get us killed!”

But like the Joker in some episode of Batman, he kept laughing his maniacal laugh and the car shook like crazy. Ted tried to downshift, and his face turned white. There were a lot of crunches as the gears locked. I didn’t have time to panic. Ted hit the brakes hard, and they locked, too. All I could hear were these screeching tires. And then the world began to spin. I yelled in my head: 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵! 𝘖𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥! as I instinctively put my feet up on the dash to brace myself. The music was still blasting. I heard the lines: “I been on the right road, but I must have used the wrong car,” as I wrapped my arms around my legs and gritted my teeth so hard you’d need a crowbar to pry them open. I dug my chin into my knees and tried to make my huge body as small and compact as possible as we began to spin o. the road and head towards a huge pile of dirt and a big black shadow.

The shadow grew bigger and bigger, now the size of a large tree. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for impact. My last thoughts were: 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘮𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸? Accompanied by a sense of total disbelief. And a burning desire to get out of this place, this car, this moment. I wished I was home. I wished I’d listened to that voice inside my head that told me this was the wrong choice…but I had to be one of the goddamned boys. I guess I’ll never learn…

Everything shifted into slow motion as Ted’s car lifted into the air. I felt like I was ﬂoating. Airborne. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I hoped if we had to land it would be on something soft. But I knew with sudden clarity that we were going to hit hard. Very hard.

At that moment everything switched into hyper speed. The front of the car ﬂipped into the big, black shadow, which I saw, for a split second, was a bulldozer. And they don’t move.

Simultaneously, I felt my face explode. And I heard a deafening boom like the dropping of the atom bomb on Hiroshima. With a rending noise, the engine broke through the glove compartment. I watched it slide under my legs and slam into the base of my seat. The thought hit me—if my legs hadn’t been up on the dash, I would have lost them both at the sockets.

I was still curled in a tight ball as my head struck the roof of the car. Another boom and I was instantly launched into Never Never Land....

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