Sleepers

'You give it to him,' Michael said. 'We already kissed him once today.'

Carol put her arms around my neck and kissed me firmly on the lips.

'Kiss or no kiss,' Tommy said, 'we ain't cuttin' her in on the prize money.'

'You're nothin' but heart,' John said.

Each contestant was placed under one of the six spotlights, the circle large enough to give us all room to dance. I was sandwiched between the kid from the pizza parlor and one of the Irish guys from 46th, still in his St. Agnes school uniform. Rueben was across from me, a relaxed look on his face, a toothpick hanging from the side of his mouth. The tall black kid, the best-dressed of the group, was the only one who looked nervous.

'C'mon, everybody!' the disc jockey shouted in a poor Chubby Checker imitation. 'Clap your hands, we're go

Chubby Checker's joyful voice boomed out of the faulty sound system and we began to twist, cheered on by the screams and cries of our friends in the crowd. We all kept it simple at the start, except for the three Irish guys, who tossed in spins and whirls to impress the audience.

It was an easy contest to lose. If you fell, missed your motion or stopped twisting, you were automatically bounced. Barring that, the disc jockey, the designated twist judge, walked among the dancers and tapped out those he felt were not up to the demands of the dance.

It would take less than twenty minutes to declare a wi

'They're Irish,' Tommy said, laughing and nudging Michael. 'Just like you.'

'They're stupid, too,' Michael said. 'Just like you.'

By the third go-around I was getting winded, sweat coming off my face and back, the heat of the spotlights and the constant movement causing the faces around me to blur. Rueben kept his pace steady, his eyes on me, every so often flashing a smile to show he was in the game and breathing easy.

By the end of 'Twistin' U.S.A.' the kid from the pizza parlor grabbed his side, stopped dancing and walked out of the circle. A short girl reached toward him, put her arms around his waist and kissed his cheek.

'You see that?' John asked with a look of disgust. 'She kissed him on the zits.'

'A co

'Yes,' Michael said.

Rueben was moving faster now, shaking down lower, twisting his body till his knees seemed to be waxing the floor. The toothpick was still in his mouth and a sneer had replaced the smile, his confidence building with every beat.

The black kid was all sweat and little style, his legs starting to cramp, the overhead lights bothering him more with each move. He was favoring his right knee, wincing whenever he went down on it.

The disc jockey, hands folded behind his back, walked over and whispered something in his ear. The black kid looked at him and nodded. He stopped dancing and limped off the floor.

'Poor guy,' Carol said. 'His knee must be really bad.'

'His father takin' a bullet meant nothin',' Tommy said.

'You gotta have somebody die to catch a break in this contest,' John said.

It was now down to three dancers.

I figured I had enough left in me for five more good minutes. Any more, and they could use the fifty dollars to bury me. Rueben looked like he could twist all night, with or without the music.

'Let's hear it for these guys that are left,' the disc jockey shouted. 'The twisting kings of New York City.'

The Irish kid stopped dancing to applaud along with the crowd and was forced to leave the contest.

'That guy's dumber than a plant,' Joh

'The DJ?' Tommy asked. 'Or the Irish kid?'

'Both,' Michael said.

'All right, boys, let's see what you got,' the disc jockey said to me and Rueben. 'You're the only ones left.'

I was soaked through with sweat, my shirt sticking to my chest and back, my hair matted to my face. My jeans were loose and the sweat around my waist made them looser. Even my shoes were starting to slip on the gym floor.

I had a few moves left and started to use them, twisting down on one knee, leaving the free leg up. Through the darkness, my end of the crowd reacted with applause and whistles.

I moved as low to the ground as I could, still twisting, then planted my hands between my legs, did a split and brought them back up to twist position.

'That's it,' Tommy said. 'That's what you gotta show 'em. They eat that Fred Astaire shit up.'

'The Puerto Rican has to make his move now,' Michael said. 'Or take the loss.'

'What happens if he swallows that toothpick?' John asked.

'We win,' Michael said.

Rueben made his move, but it was the wrong one.

With his end of the crowd clapping and cheering behind him, Rueben went down to a low position, laid his hands flat on the ground and tried a head-over flip. He made the flip, an impressive head past shoulder acrobatic move, but the soles of his shoes slipped when he landed back on his feet. He slid to the ground and fell onto his rear, toothpick still in his mouth.

I stopped dancing, walked over to Rueben, reached out my hand and helped him to his feet.

'Great move,' I said.

'I'll get you next summer,' he said.

'You almost got me this summer,' I said, shaking his hand.

The crowd closed in on us, applauding, whistling and shouting. Their screams and chants grew even louder when the disc jockey slapped a fifty-dollar bill in my palm and raised my hand in victory.

'We're rich!' Tommy shouted, rushing toward me with John, Michael and Carol fast behind. 'We're rich!'

'We can live for a month,' John said. 'Pizza. Comic books. Italian ices. The town's ours.'

'You were lucky,' Michael said to me with a smile. 'It's always better to be lucky.'

'Don't expect another kiss,' Carol said.

'I'm too tired to kiss anybody,' I said. 'I'm too tired to even walk.'

'You don't have to walk,' Tommy said. 'You're the champ. We'll drive you.'

He grabbed one of my legs and John and Michael grabbed the other, hoisting me on their shoulders, the crowd behind me still chanting their support.

They carried me through the gym, carefully lowering me past the black exit doors and out onto the street.

'Where we goin'?' I asked, tilting my head back, letting the warm evening breeze cool my face.

'Anyplace,' Michael said. 'Do anything we want.'

'We got the time,' John said. 'And we finally got the money.'

'We can go anywhere,' Tommy said. 'There's nothin' can stop us.'

We were under a street light on the corner of West 50th Street and 10th Avenue. John, Tommy and Michael holding me on their shoulders. Carol next to them, a smile on her face, slowly dancing around a garbage can.

The night and the streets were ours and the future lay sparkling ahead.

And we thought we would know each other forever.