Kathy Hilton’s door slammed shut on her little, banged-up white Toyota Corolla. Not because she was particularly angry, but because, being a heavy-set woman, when she slumped into the driver’s seat, the momentum of the car tilting would bring the door to a slam. Billy Hilton took a glance at himself in the rear-view mirror from the back seat, admiring his fresh cut and smiling to himself. Billy hated sitting in the back seat, especially when no one was sitting in the front, but whenever he asked his mother if he could ride up front with her, she would always say the same thing.
“You’re too little, Billy,” she would screech. “If you sat up here and there was an accident, you would fly through the window at God knows what speed, and that would be the end of ya.” Even when Billy would ask his father, hoping he’d have better luck, the response would be somewhat deflating: “I’m sure your mother would prefer you in the back, Bill.”
Today, Billy didn’t want to be bothered asking, as he was excited to hang out with his newfound friend Richie. Kathy glared at him with her overly-slopped-on makeup, almost clown-like, in the mirror’s reflection.
“Why do you always need to push me, Billy?” she asked him, frustrated at seemingly nothing.
Billy, confused by the question, didn’t know how to respond. “In what way, Mum?” he replied, not knowing what to expect.
“What way?” Kathy Hilton huffed. “What way.” She adjusted the mirror so Billy couldn’t see his own reflection. “How about the way you embarrassed me in front of Con?” she stated, referring to the barber. “‘Can I have a number two?’” she imitated Billy in a soft, mouse-like voice. “In all my years, you’ve never requested that haircut, and you’ve always loved having this style.” She paused, thinking about how to word her next sentence. “But now, because this outsider has come in and tried to warp you with his own opinions, you suddenly want a short adult haircut.” Billy leant back into the dark car seat, retreating, knowing that a battle was already commencing that he didn’t ask for and couldn’t win. “Not on my watch!” she raised her voice.
“I’m sorry, Mum, it wasn’t like—” But before Billy could continue, his mother cut him off.
“It isn’t like that because I wouldn’t let it be, Billy.” She started to breathe heavily now, as any slight frustration always brought out her huffs. “First, it’ll be a haircut, and then before you know it, you’ll be smoking all sorts of drugs, Billy. I won’t let that happen.” She now turned and looked at him, deep in his brown eyes. “I’ll drop dead before I let you become a drug addict.” Billy looked away and out the window, embarrassed, hoping no one outside the car could hear his mother’s screams. “You look at me, Billy,” Kathy Hilton requested. Billy didn’t, keeping his gaze out the window at the clouds in the sky. “Billy Hilton!” his mother screamed. “I won’t let you throw your life away.” Billy, hearing enough of his mother’s nonsense, gave her the response she was waiting for.
“You’re right, Mum,” he said softly.
Kathy’s face changed momentarily, almost like a toddler’s would when they see candy.
“I know I’m right.” Kathy Hilton turned back to face the windscreen, making the car rock from side to side. “Drugs are the devil,” she lowered her voice. “Just look at what they’ve done to Ernie Legaton up the street.”
Billy braced himself for another story of good kids turning bad.
“Ernie used to always help me with my shopping. He would stop and chat to me about how he was expecting straight As from school, because he wanted to be an architect. But do you know what happened, Billy?” Billy didn’t answer from the back, as it was a rhetorical question. “He started to listen to that rock music, and it infected his brain, Billy.” Kathy Hilton’s voice sped up as she became engrossed in her own story. “It changed him, and he became addicted to that loud, screaming music. He started going to concerts and made a whole new group of friends, Billy. That’s what the devil does, Billy. He manipulates people slowly. He twists them and moulds them in his own image.” She breathed heavily, and Billy could feel the small car heating up, so he slowly wound down the back-left window slightly, letting the outside air in to circulate. “Ernie started smoking—I know because I’ve seen the used cigarette butts put out on the kerb near his house. Oh, poor Tegan and David,” Kathy scowled, referring to Mr and Mrs Legaton.
Kathy shook her head and continued. “It was right under their noses, and they weren’t paying any attention. This is why I look through your drawers and under your bed every day. You will not hide things from me.” Kathy Hilton became sidetracked. “Do you hear me, Billy?” She adjusted the car mirror so that her eyes found his. “You will not hide things from me.”
“I won’t, Mum,” Billy said, embarrassed, ducking further into his chair so he wasn’t visible to any bystanders looking in from the outside.
“Now look at him,” she whispered, almost talking to herself now. “Look at his attire, his black jeans, and dyed dark, slicked-back hair.” She was so disgusted by the image that appeared in her head, Billy thought she’d be sick right there in the car. “Not a trace of little Ernie left now.” She shook her head, almost at the end of her rant. “Might as well have a sign around his neck stating, ‘Devil’s got me now!’” With one final deep breath, Kathy Hilton slid the key into the ignition and turned the car to life, the Toyota Corolla chugging just like its operator.
Billy Hilton knew of Ernie Legaton from when he was around seven. His mother would get Ernie to babysit whenever they had a late-night dinner planned or an awards night for his father’s work. It wasn’t often, and his father never won any of the awards that he was apparently up for. In fact, Billy didn’t know much about his father’s work and only knew that he was in sales for a vacuum cleaning company called Powersweep, and that they had a whole bunch of vacuums in the driveway still boxed up.
When they were away at dinners, Ernie, who was fifteen at the time, would sit and talk to Billy, and Billy loved the attention. Billy, who had a fascination with heavy-duty machinery at the time, would talk Ernie’s ears off about why a cylinder head in an engine was so important, and Ernie would let him. Billy thinks that’s what was so different about his relationship with Ernie compared to his parents—Ernie let Billy talk and was fascinated by how much knowledge a seven-year-old had on such a complex subject. It was the most attention Billy had from anyone older, and it didn’t feel forced. Ernie would actually talk and explain things that he knew, and would encourage Billy to learn more about engines by drawing diagrams on large white cards. Those pictures were always so perfect to Billy, and he was amazed at how detailed Ernie’s drawings could be, almost as if they were straight out of a magazine. If Billy looked hard enough, he probably still had these pictures somewhere in his room, at the bottom of his sock drawer.
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Although Billy was now advised not to pay any attention to Ernie Legaton, he couldn’t help it, and when his mother wasn’t around, Billy would wave and smile because Ernie was always kind to him. If that’s what it meant to be on the devil’s side, then Billy thought that was alright by him.
Kathy Hilton reversed the car and then crunched it into gear, making it power forward with a leap, Billy’s chest tight on the seatbelt. “What are you and this other kid gonna be doing at the library?” Kathy questioned her son, wanting to hear a specific answer.
“Probably just reading books mainly, Mum,” Billy answered. “I want to show Richie a map of the whole town.”
Kathy Hilton pointed her finger at her son. “That’s fine, Billy. Good,” she said, satisfied with the response Billy had given. “And home by…”
“Yes, Mum, I’ll be home by five,” Billy quickly chimed in.
“Good boy,” she said, smiling. “And be careful on your bike; the pavement is all wonky near the library there, and Mayor Chadston hasn’t bothered to lift a finger to fix it.”
“I will, I promise, Mum,” Billy Hilton stated softly.
“Good boy,” she said, smiling. “And be careful on your bike; the pavement is all wonky near the library there, and Mayor Chadston hasn’t bothered to lift a finger to fix it.”
“I will, I promise, Mum,” Billy Hilton replied.
The car ride home was fairly uneventful, and Billy, as always, kept his eye on the train tracks near Benson’s Paddock to see if he could spot any freight trains passing by. He loved the freight trains and would recite facts about them to himself whenever he felt anxious; needless to say, he recited them often. The General Electric GE C30-7 was the one that would pass by most often, and Billy would mumble to himself about its power output, engines, and traction motors, almost quizzing himself on his train knowledge. He knew that the rusty steel rail tracks were made by CPP (Castor Point Proprietary) and were classed as mainline tracks, designed to handle the heavy weight and long trains used in freight transport. Billy’s knowledge was exceptional for his age—exceptional, regardless of age—and although it impressed his teachers at school, especially Mr Unley, it seemed his knowledge on the subject was quite pointless. Billy didn’t seem to care, and if you ever got your hands on his library card, you’d see he had borrowed Rails of Our Time over sixty times.
The white Corolla turned away from Benson’s Paddock, and Billy lost sight of the tracks, focusing his attention now on his mother as she found a new issue to complain about.
“This fair coming up. You thinking about going, Billy?” She was referring to Lewton’s annual Summer Spectacular, held to celebrate summer and one of Lewton’s big events. Everyone and their dog would normally attend, as there were rides and sideshows—a time for most people to let their hair down and have some fun. Needless to say, it was a significant source of revenue for the local produce market.
“I’m not sure yet,” Billy lied, knowing he really wanted to attend.
“Big waste of money if you ask me.” Kathy Hilton shifted her weight in her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Not sure why anyone would want to throw a dart at a balloon in the hopes of winning a prize.” Billy sat quietly, letting her continue. “That money would be better spent on groceries, if you ask me.” Billy, wanting to say nobody did ask you, replied quietly.
“Yeah, you’re probably right, Mum.” Kathy looked quickly behind her, catching Billy’s gaze.
“Not probably, Billy. I’ve lived a good sixty-four years on this planet, and I think I would know a thing or two about supporting a family.” Kathy Hilton was very money-conscious; even though they weren’t particularly poor, she would reuse most things others would throw out. If you had eyes in her bathroom, you’d see that Kathy Hilton gathered the leftover bits from bars of soap and moulded them together to make a new multi-coloured soap bar. Saving anything, even a few cents, was simply in her nature. Kathy Hilton always had up to six bags of potatoes hidden away at the back of her pantry because potatoes, being the cheapest of vegetables, made her food go that little bit further. ‘Coupon Kathy’ was the name given to her by the staff at their local Food Low store, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to wait at the checkout while Kathy rummaged through her purse because she swore she had a ‘buy one, get one free’ coupon on beans somewhere at the bottom. “The prizes are cheap too,” she blurted out, as much to herself as to Billy, trying to convince him.
“I think the rides are fun, though,” Billy said quietly from the back seat.
“If you can afford them then go right ahead, but I won’t be forking out for you to go in those bumper cars. Dangerous things, they are,” Kathy explained, knowing very well that without her support Billy had no money of his own. “Dave Lowe did his back in on them and now he walks all hunched over.” Billy didn’t even know who Dave was, but he for sure wasn’t going to ask and lead his mother into another story. Regardless of his mother’s thoughts, Billy loved the bumper cars, and the thought of them being slightly dangerous only excited him more.
The car twisted down Benson Road before finding their street on Landers Lane. Landers Lane was a quiet street, and it wasn’t uncommon to see the Gooding children playing hopscotch in the street with bright coloured chalk. Little Diane Gooding, with her bright blonde hair, played with her little sister Steffnie, skipping and laughing as they played, tossing a little pebble rock onto the big squares they had drawn out. Not today, though, Billy Hilton thought to himself, realising that Saturday cartoons must still be on as it wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, and on Saturdays, Cartoon Connection ran up until midday. The adventures of Gibbs the Gekko still made Billy smile with warm memories, even though he had grown out of the cartoons a few years ago.
The car bumped up the driveway of 11 Landers Lane and stopped outside the garage, both Billy and Kathy knowing that there was no room in the garage to store their car because of the overstorage of vacuums. The car bounced to the left, and right as Kathy Hilton swivelled to get out, panting to herself as if it was a workout. She turned to Billy and spoke firmly. “Remember to go in and have a shower straight away as you don’t want your cut hair to be strewn all over the couch.” Billy nodded in agreement.
“Will do, Mum.” Billy got out and closed his door before walking up to the house. On the way, he passed his silver chrome Diamondback Viper bike that was leaning carefully against the wall. Its black tyres pumped up to 40 PSI to give it the best handling while riding on the pavement and roads. Billy touched its smooth handlebars, which were tall and wide, offering better leverage for tricks and jumps—though Billy never attempted any—but he was glad the bike was ready for action, just in case he ever needed it. There, on the inner cylinder tube between the front and back wheels, he had a train sticker slapped on for good measure.
The Rail Runner, which Billy had named his bike, was his means of getting around Lewton, and since he had only gotten it last Christmas, he looked after it like someone would treasure a new car, washing it at least once a week to keep its pristine silver look shiny and polished. In fact, the reason why The Rail Runner was leaning against the wall in the sun was because Billy Hilton had just washed and detailed it before heading out to get his hair cut, so he could ride it over the weekend—fresh cut and freshly detailed. He loved that bike and would often be seen screaming down O’Henry’s Hill, imagining his bike was a steam engine locomotive, his legs pumping the pedals as if feeding the engine with more power. He would squeeze the horn on the handlebars, and it would squeak just like a kid’s bike should, but to Billy, the horn sounded just like a freight train with a low frequency and a deep tone.
Billy spoke softly to The Rail Runner, making sure no one else could hear him. “Ladies and gentlemen, the train will be departing shortly to Lewton Library. Make sure your luggage is securely fastened down and, for your own safety, please remain seated while the train is moving.” Billy smiled to himself proudly and was excited for his catch-up with Richie. With his index finger, Billy Hilton pushed up his Wayfarer black frames that had once again fallen down to the tip of his nose, and he felt more alive than he had in a very long time.