Prunes

A friend forever you will always be to me,

For to me you are as solid as an old oak tree.

Thought in this world we may never meet again,

To me you will always be my special friend

~ Gemini Joe ~

n school, we were allowed to go out and exercise during recess. There was a four-foot wall at the back of the schoolyard and we were able to stand on it. We played a game called King of the Mountain. One kid would stay up on the wall and the challenger would stand behind him. They tried to push each other off. The first few times, I got tossed. After that, I just watched. I recognized one of the guys. His name was Jim. He was a hall monitor just like me, but we never spoke to each other. Boy was he strong. No one had a chance against him. “I’m King of the Mountain,” Jim yelled and danced on the ledge, ready to take on the next challenger. Then he noticed me standing on the side. He tried to leap onto my back, but I sidestepped and he landed on the ground. I realized something. If someone is pushing towards you, help him go the same way he is going and he will fall right off. When it was my turn on the wall, that’s what I did. I became King of the Mountain… for a while, anyway.

Since Jim got held back in the fourth grade, he was older than the other kids were. We became friends and sat together at lunch. The teachers put us in charge of patrolling the halls to make sure no one cut class or walked off the school premises. Mostly, we directed the young children to their classes. Jim convinced me we could cut school without attracting too much attention, and we wandered around the neighborhood.

One day, we found an old farm. Surrounded by a brick wall, it stretched for the length of a whole block. Behind the barrier, there were fruit-laden trees.

“We need to come back when it gets dark.” Jim said.

As the sun sank below the horizon, we rode our bikes to the farm and stood looking up at the wall. I cupped my hands to give Jim a boost to the top then he reached down to hoist me up. On the other side, we smelled the sweet, fragrant scent of peaches. I held the flashlight while Jim climbed the tree and picked the fruit. He picked so many that he lost his grip on them and the peaches tumbled to the ground.

“You’re losing them,” I whispered. “Put them in your shirt.”

When Jim scrambled down, he gave me half the peaches.

“Who’s out there?” someone yelled.

“Let’s get out of here!” Jim said.

We had planned to exit through the gate, but now we had to scramble over the wall.

We fell to the other side, crushing the fruit in our shirts.

By the time we rode back to my house, we couldn’t stop scratching. The fur from the peaches had irritated our skin. We ripped open our shirts and let the peaches drop on the sidewalk then raced to the bathroom and splashed cold water on our chests and stomach.

“You guys are so stupid!” Victor laughed.

We ignored his remarks, but next time, Jim and I passed the farm, we kept on walking.

Jim was my best friend. We even had a special whistle and could hear each other from two blocks away. We called him Prunes. Now, I’ll tell you a funny story about how he got his name.

One night we were hanging out on the corner. We were bad. We were smoking cigarettes and drinking whisky that we stole from our parents.

“What’s that noise?” Jim asked.

“It’s my stomach,” my friend Tony said. “I’m starving.”

“I have an idea, Jim said. He was always coming up with good ideas. “Follow me, but be very quiet.”

We walked to the alley between some apartment buildings and he pointed to a fire escape. Then he pulled down the ladder and climbed up to the first balcony where there was a silver box. It was used to keep dairy products. He lifted the lid and stuffed something in his jacket. Then he climbed down. He had a block of cheese, and a quart of milk. We ate it and went back to the alley to find another box. This time, we all took a balcony, but before Tony climbed down, a light turned on.

“What are you hoodlums doing?” a man yelled. “I’m calling the police.”

I jumped off the ladder and ran to catch up to my friends. None of us guys got anything, except Jim.

“He has prune juice,” Tony shouted. “Give us some.”

“It’s mine,” Jim said. Just as Jim drained the last drop from the bottle, we heard sirens. Before we could get away, two cops jumped out and grabbed Tony by the collar.

“Where do you live?” the cop said. “Never mind. I know where you live.” He shoved him into the back of his car. Me and Jim got away.

The next day, Tony and me walked to Jim’s house and knocked on the door.

“I’m sorry, guys. Jim’s feeling sick today,” his mother said.

“Sick? Jim’s never sick,” Tony said. “I wonder what’s wrong with him.”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is I hope we don’t get it.”

The next day, we went back to his house. His mother said, “He won’t be coming out today.”

“Does Jim have a cold?”

“No, he must have eaten something bad. He can’t get off the toilet.”

“I bet it was the prune juice!” Tony said and we burst into a fit of laughter.

By the time we saw Jim, he had clearly lost some weight.

“Hey, Prunes!” I laughed. “Prunes! From now on, that’s your name.”