The Catwalk

-2-

Halfway through the finale Nick placed his arm around her shoulder, and after that Zoey didn't hear any of the fireworks. The loud booming explosions were all drowned out by the hotness behind her ears and the light fluttering in her chest. She could feel herself beginning to sweat slick and cool.

    "Beautiful, don't you think," Nick whispered to her when it was over. She could feel his warm breath against her face, ruffling her hair just a little.

    "Hmm," Zoey mused, still lost in the moment.

    "I bet you have to get back to your folks now," Nick sighed. "I know mine are probably looking for me by now."

    Zoey didn't answer him. She didn't know what to say. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want the moment to end.

    "I wish we could stay out a bit longer," he continued. "It's such a nice evening."

    "I don't have to go back just yet," Zoey replied.

    Nick smiled at her and took her hand in his. "I like that," he said.

    They sat quietly together for a minute or two, and then Nick spoke up again. "Have you ever heard the story of the catwalk bridge, Zoey?" he asked her.

    "What?"

    "The catwalk," Nick replied. "You know, the old abandoned train bridge running over the ravine."

    "Oh, Jumper's Bridge?" Zoey asked, finally realizing what he was talking about. "Yeah, I've heard the stories. The ones about the girls. Every couple of years or so. Jumping." It gave her the shivers just thinking about it. Jumper's Bridge. The Suicide Spot. Just the idea of jumping from the old rotten train bridge gave her the creeps.

Jumping. Falling. What a way to go.

    Nick nodded. "I've heard another story about it, though," he said.

    Zoey shivered a little, and Nick pulled her in a bit closer to him. A bit of a chill was starting to blow in from the lake – cutting into the thick humidity left behind by the long summer day.

Zoey knew there were other stories about that bridge. Everyone had stories about it. Things like that – dark, old, abandoned things like that – collected stories. They collected ghosts like a child collects baseball cards. Everyone you talked to could tell you a different ghost story about the old train bridge. But the only stories she knew to be true were the girls. The jumpers. Those were the only ones she had seen in the papers. The only ones that were fact. The only ones that were true for sure.

"The story I've heard is an old story," the boy began. "It happened back before the bridge was closed, even. Back when the trains still ran on it."

Zoey watched him as he spoke, completely hypnotized by his voice.

    "Back then, back in the 80's, the high-schoolers used to play a game called Catwalk. How the game worked was, you waited in the shrubs beside the bridge for a train to go by. And then once it had passed, you would get on the catwalk and try to run across it before the next train came.

    "Of course, there were usually at least fifteen or twenty minutes between trains, so you had plenty of time to get across. It was just a silly game. No one had ever gotten hurt before. But then one night, and I think it was the 4th of July, actually," he smiled at Zoey and winked as he said it, and she could tell he was trying to freak her out just a little. Just a little though – not too much – he was still trying to be flirty.

    "It was the 4th of July, and a boy and a girl went out to the train bridge to play Catwalk after watching the firework show. They waited for the train to cross the tracks like the kids always did, and then they went out onto the bridge, laughing and giggling to each other as they went. The boy thought the girl was beautiful, and he wanted to show off, so he ran ahead. And little did he know, she was attracted to him too, so she went chasing after him. They were halfway across the bridge when suddenly the boy's foot broke through an old rotten board.

    "He cried out, and the girl ran to him to help. They tried to get his foot out, but they just couldn't seem to get it to budge. His leg was stuck past his knee, and the old splintered board had cut him up badly. The girl tried to help him, but they just couldn't get his leg out. And then in the distance, they heard the whistle of a train coming. Getting closer. Toooghhhh Toooooghhhh!"

    Nick mimicked the sound of a train whistle, and Zoey shivered as she watched him, wide eyed, completely captured by the story.

"And the train got closer, but still the foot wouldn't budge. And when they could almost see the light of the train approaching from the distance, with tears in her eyes, the girl kissed the boy goodbye and ran across to the other side of the catwalk, leaving him behind as the train got closer and closer until..." Nick stopped talking, and just held up one hand in the air. Then he made a fist with his other hand and slowly inched it towards the first hand – miming a train edging down the catwalk towards the boy.

Zoey covered her eyes as his fist met his hand, feeling silly for getting freaked out by just the gesture of it. But for some reason the story had made her stomach do summersaults and sent goose bumps down every inch of her skin.

But then Nick put his arm around her shoulder again, and he kissed her on the cheek.

"It's just a story, Zoey," he calmed her, rubbing her back. "Just a story."

Zoey smiled at him shyly, wanting to kiss him back. Wanting to kiss him on the cheek. On the lips. Wanting him.

"Come on," he said, standing up. He gave Zoey his hand and helped her to her feet. "I want to take you somewhere."