Midnight

Midnight. It was the only time I ever saw him. I would get off work around eleven, maybe eleven-thirty, and every time I passed through that stretch of town close to twelve ‘o clock - there he was. 

He was always leaning against something, usually a lamppost, sometimes a trashcan - waiting. Sometimes, if I was feeling curious, I would crane my neck to try and see what it was he was looking at, but I never saw a thing. 

It wasn’t until July 4, 1957, that I finally saw him face to face. Tallman’s diner - my summer job and the popular place to hang out - stayed open that night until almost one in the morning. I was a real skinny dork of a kid, all arms and legs, and I always dreaded walking home at night. You may not think so, but getting mugged and beat up in a relatively small town for being a small, nerdy kid wasn’t all that uncommon; at least it wasn’t for someone like me.

The sky that night was dark, occasionally lit by a smattering of fireworks and the moon when it made an appearance from behind the clouds. That night, main street was pretty much deserted. Everyone was out making the most of the last major summer holiday with their friends.

I was tired and desperate for some sleep, but I became wide awake the moment I turned the corner. Two guys- Tad, maybe Mark, I don’t really remember - who were known as the “golden boys” of the town were waiting for me. I wasn’t particularly surprised, I had occasionally taken advantage of serving them at the diner, sometimes “forgetting” to bring out their food or “accidentally” adding up their check wrong. 

Not that I didn’t have good reason, those two were the type to abuse their power and status by taking advantage of those around them; but then again, look who’s talking.

Anyways, they were walking down the street towards me, drunk as skunks and smelling just as bad. I has the uneasy feeling that they were going to pay me back for all my mishaps at the diner, and I shoved my glasses up the sweaty bridge of my nose, hoping I wouldn’t have to buy yet another pair. 

They were twenty feet away, fifteen, ten. I gathered what little courage I possessed. 

Eight feet. My hands had started sweating. 

Five. 

A shadow darted between me and my adversaries, tall and lean. There was a small light coming from the stranger’s silhouette - a cigarette. It was put out by the bottom of the stranger’s shoe as he addressed the two drunkards, his voice - and probably his words - were sharp and menacing. 

Matt and Tad - Mark and Tim, something or other -shared a dazed but scared look before they hightailed it back to a waiting car I hadn’t seem loitering at the end of the street. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, then cleared my throat and managed to squeak out a “thanks”. 

The stranger turned around, his eyes green and glowing like a cat’s. “They shouldn’t bother you anymore,” 

His voice surprised me. It wasn’t gruff or menacing like it had been, but calm and slightly nervous, like a kid who was lost at the fair.

I waited for an introduction, but instead got a dismal nod and an awkward stare as he pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit up, offering one to me that I declined. The two of us stood there silently under the streetlight, and the linger we stood there, the more I felt like I should say something more than just a simple thanks. The only problem was nothing came to mind, and the stranger broke the silence first.

“Do you go to Wilburn?” he asked abruptly, pointing in turn to the high school just over the hill. 

“Sure,” I replied. “My name’s Teddy Wilson, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you,” He held out his hand to shake but didn’t tell me who he was. Instead, he asked another question. “At your school, is there a girl named Jenny Abrums?” 

I frowned, confused by his question. “There used to be.”

He sighed, crushing the cigarette under his heel. “Yeah. Everyone I’ve asked has said that same exact thing, only no one’ll tell me what happened to her,”

I squinted at him in the dark, trying to get a better look. He was tall, with blond hair halfway down the back of his neck and and eyes so green they almost glowed. I. Had seen those eyes, that face, before.

“What did you say your name was again?”

He looked me over, like he could see the suspicion clouding my thoughts through the dark. “It’s Kennedy Pierce; and you never asked me before.”

I could sense that he knew what I was thinking, so I muttered something about it getting late and waved goodbye, waiting until I had turned the corner to run. 

The house was quiet, and despite all my clattering and slamming things around, it was still somehow silent as I sat down with what I had been looking for. The newspaper article was no doubt owned by everyone in town, and even though I probably knew it by heart, I reread it to be sure.

“Kennedy Pierce, an eighteen year old senior at Madison Pike High School was found outside of town in an overturned truck beside Highway 103 last night, April 22, 1957.Pierce had been fleeing the scene of a murder that seemed to have taken place in the abandoned lot beside Mt. Caramel Church on 2nd Street. 

At the scene of the wreck on 103, paramedics found Pierce, close to death, along with the body of Wilburn High School senior Jennifer Abrums. Jennifer Abrums is the daughter of Richard Abrums, the man who has been identified as the murdered suspect from the crime scene near Mt. Caramel Church. 

Pierce was rushed to the County Hospital where, upon his arrival, was treated for severe head injuries and possible injuries to the spine and left leg. He is currently stable, but the doctors are concerned for his mental state and physical condition. If you have any information regarding…”

I skip down to the pictures at the bottom of the page. There’s Kennedy’s school picture sandwiched between a picture of a smashed-up truck lying in a ditch, and another school picture, this one of a pretty girl with short, curly hair and light eyes.

The article was followed up with another one a few days later, the latter about how Kennedy woke up in the hospital, hysterical and disoriented. The doctors diagnosed him with amnesia, a side effect of the injuries he sustained from the car accident. He was released soon after, only to find himself abandoned by his mother and left with questions that no one would answer. 

Sitting there in the dark, I decided that someone had to tell him the truth, and I just happened to b holding the truth in my hands. 

*****

Kennedy was leaning against the lamppost again when I saw him a week later. Without preamble, I walked up to him and shoved an envelope stuffed with the newspaper articles in his hand, then walked away. Kennedy yelled my name as I walked away, but I didn’t stop or turn around. 

*****

Looking back at those events now, its easy to see that I knew deep within me what would happen to Kennedy after that night. 

That must be why I wasn’t shocked when he was found at the bottom of Chaser’s Ravine two days after. I was surprised though, to find a note taped to the side of the lamppost where I first met him. It was addressed to me and said this…

Dear Teddy, 

  Thanks for being honest with me. I don’t have much time to write this letter because Jennifer Abrums’s brother found out that I remember, and I think they might kill me for it. Since you were nice and honest when no one else was, I think you deserve the truth; I didn’t murder Jennifer Abrums’s father in cold blood. He was abusing her, hitting her, and when she finally told me I tried to help her get away from him. He tried to stop us. He followed us all the way to the lot at the end of town, by that church, then he jumped out and tried to shoot at us. I decided to jump out of the truck and try to stop him, and I managed to wrestle with him for the gun, but it went off and shot him. It killed him. I would’ve turned myself in, honest, but I had to get Jenny somewhere safe. I have to go now, but if you could, tell Jenny’s brother the truth for me. I’d appreciate it.

Thanks again, 

Kennedy Pierce.

I did my best to honor Kennedy’s request, and when I finally found Jenny’s brother Austin, he couldn’t believe it. He told me that he and his friends had set off to find Kennedy once they heard that he’s regained his memory. When they were chasing him up to the Ravine, Austin fell and hurt his leg, but he was close enough that he could hear Kennedy say he forgave all of them, especially Austin. 

To this day, exactly how Kennedy Pierce fell into Chaser’s Ravine remains a mystery. Of course, rumors still float around that he jumped, that he was pushed, even that he somehow faked his death. While I don’t know the answer to that, I do know this. 

If you ever happen to be walking around downtown around midnight, and find yourself near Tallman’s Diner, turn and look at the lamppost down the street. If you look hard enough, you’ll see the silhouette of a tall stranger, smoking in the wane light, looking up at the sky and waiting.

Some say he’s waiting for a girl, who just like him is long dead and gone. Some say its for answers to questions he never figured out. I say he’s waiting for something else entirely. He’s waiting for the world to change, for everyone to see that violence - the very thing that took his life and the girl he loved - will never be the answer. 

Kennedy knew better than anyone what violence could do, how it can destroy innocent lives in an instant. That’s why he waits. For the little things - saving someone from a beating, helping someone who’s lost, telling somebody the hard truth - to take back what violence steals.

Midnight. It was the first and last time I saw him. It was the time I realized how unforgiving and unfair life is. It’s why, every time I pass downtown, I can see his tall silhouette, smoking, leaning against the lamppost, and waiting for the world to finally get a clue.