Second Harvest

"Come on Stanley. Let's walk home."

There was no response, so Roy quickly spun around and saw Franklin and Robert earnestly running to climb aboard the last car before it rounded the bend. Before he could stop Stanley, he watched his friend bolt toward the train. Roy did not hesitate; he ran fast to catch the other boys. Franklin jumped on first then grasped Robert's hand to help him aboard the slow-moving train. Sweaty, the two boys sneered at Roy and Stanley, who were running to catch the train with all their strength.

Roy slipped past Stanley and hopped aboard just as the last car turned the corner. His heart was racing in his chest. Looking back, he saw Stanly make a last ditch effort to grasp the back handrail by leaping forward. Stanley's feet dragged along the rough gravel as dust shrouded the lad who was holding on for dear life by one hand. It was evident Stanley was not able to climb aboard the train. Roy watched in horror as his friend would not let go, even though he lost both shoes and ripped his clothes. The seconds ticked by in slow motion and Roy felt utterly helpless.

"Let him go, Roy, he's not gonna make it," yelled Franklin.

Finally, Stanley released his grip and tumbled into a dusty ball alongside the tracks. Roy could see no movements.

"I told you he was a Chicken," derided Robert.

Roy glared at his two laughing cohorts. He then bravely leaped from the train, which was beginning to gain speed. Just before jumping, Roy looked at Stanley once more, but he was still motionless. Tumbling as Roy hit the ground; he suffered multiple somersaults before stopping. Stanley was almost a mile back, so Roy started running that direction at full speed.

"Stanley, Stanley, are you all right?" Roy asked as he rolled the battered body of his friend over.

Stanley was whimpering and a bloody mess. He had no serious injuries, just minor scrapes, and cuts everywhere. Roy pulled him into his chest and squeezed his friend. He was grateful Stanley was alive.

"I'm no chicken Roy, you hear me? I'm not a chicken."

Smiling, Roy reassured Stanley. "No, you're not, my friend. I don't know why you felt you needed to prove that point to Franklin and Robert, but you almost got yourself killed trying."

Stanley smiled and displayed a chipped front tooth.

"Come on, let's get you home."

"I gotta find my shoes Roy, or Papa is gonna kill me."

Roy helped Stanley to his feet, but they were raw and bleeding. Roy squatted in front of his friend. "Hop on my back, I'll give you a lift."