The boys stood at the doorway of the mess hall, dressed for dinner. Mayhem wore a black dress shirt, a blue denim vest, and blue jeans, while Demarco sported a colorful jacket and his signature Cuban hat. Allan felt the electricity in the room and entered the mess hall, decorated like a disco, complete with lights, a dance floor, and a shimmering disco ball. There were even Christmas lights that spelled out Camp Arapahoe on the back wall. The kids were dressed for disco dancing with the outfits to prove it. That is except for Allan, still in his Peter Frampton jersey, gazed at a wall lined with group photos of the camp from previous decades, a tribute to the camp’s history.
“Wow, this camp’s been here since the twenties?” Allan asked.
“Don’t you have a nicer shirt?” Demarco asked Allan.
“I didn’t know.”
“Did you bring your fancy knife?” Mayhem asked Allan.
“Yes. Why?”
“We play a little game after dinner. You should come with us.”
Mayhem was the first to get in the food line and ate his way through. While Allan hunted for something he wanted to have for dinner. Yvette was checked out by Allan and smiled, and Allan smiled back. Mayhem noticed their exchange and looked at Allan sternly. Then Stephanie looked at Mayhem, and Smitty looked at Demarco, who fluttered his eyes.
Suddenly, the song Love Train, by the O’Jays, came on the speakers, the mess hall lights dropped, and the disco lights brightened, dropping all reality in the room. Energized, the kids formed a soul train line with Curtis and Cheri volunteering to dance first, moving down the aisle with big kicks and a lot of spinning.
Then, Demarco and Cheri danced; Demarco attempted a sexy move, but Cheri wasn’t having it. Stephanie approached Mayhem, pulling him onto the dance floor. Mayhem had some good moves, but Stephanie couldn’t keep up.
Allan looked at Yvette standing in the light, and Yvette approached him.
Demarco noticed, “Oooh boy.”
Yvette pulled Allan into the line. He initially resisted, but Yvette eased him into it. Allan had no idea what he was doing. Awkwardly, he mimicked her dance style. They were having fun, but Mayhem was seething. Just as Allan and Yvette got their groove on, Demarco interrupted and pulled Allan away. Yvette wasn’t happy.
The boys ran out of the mess hall and across the camp.
“Come with us, Allan,” Mayhem yelled.
“Where did you learn to dance, Demarco?” Allan asked.
“Soul Train.”
“What’s that?” Allan asked.
Mayhem yelled, “What’s Soul Train, are you joking?”
The boys rushed into the darkness on a woodsy path. Allan looked down at his footing to ensure he didn’t trip on tree roots. There were so many twisted roots rising and falling from the path.
The boys came to a moonlit clearing and gathered in a circle. Mayhem approached Allan and faced him closely.
“You’re standing a little close.”
“Hey, I was supposed to challenge you first this year,” Smitty told Mayhem.
“You were, but since this kid’s here.”
“Is this a camp authorized activity?” Allan asked.
“Let’s see what you can do.” Mayhem challenged.
Allan removed the knife from his jeans pocket, “Nothing, I just got the knife today.”
“Clearly, you don’t need it to shave,” Mayhem replied.
“Unlike your peach-fuzz mustache,” Demarco teased, “Guys, take seven steps forward.”
Mayhem declared, “This is a game of manhood, played by street gangs, cowboys…”
“Like the village people,” Smitty interrupted.
Mayhen continued, “… and immigrants. Thank you Smitty. I’ll throw the knife at your feet.”
“Without hitting your feet,” Demarco added.
“Without hitting your feet,” Mayhem repeated, “If you flinch, you’re a coward. If you throw it too far away…”
“You’re the coward,” Demarco added.
“The one that gets the knife closest to the feet, without hitting the feet. Wins.”
“But,” Demarco paused, “if you stick the knife in your own foot, you automatically win, because you’re the bigger man.”
“He’s not man enough for that,” Mayhem declared.
Mayhem got his stance, swaying left and right, and opened his switchblade.
“Have you ever stuck the knife in your foot?” Demarco challenged Mayhem.
“Are we going to play or talk,” Mayhem threw his knife.
The boys watched as it flew through the air and landed between Allan’s feet.
Allan looked down, breathing a sigh of relief, and gulped as he struggled to open his knife.
“Oh, come on,” Mayhem yelled, “Somebody help him.”
Demarco stepped forward, opening the knife for Allan. After considering how to hold the knife, Allan grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it into the air.
“This isn’t golf, let’s go,” Mayhem yelled.
“I’m checking the wind velocity,” Allan threw the knife.
It traveled an awe-inspiring three feet and landed flat on the ground, well shy of Mayhem.
“Oy! I can do better.”
“Can you?” Mayhem joked.
Like a fast-moving ball boy in a tennis match, Demarco stepped up, marked the spots with stones, and gave them their knives back to go again.
Mayhem prepared to throw his second round, and Allan blinked excessively and gulped. Mayhem threw the knife, and it landed inches away from Allan’s left foot. Allan exhaled deeply and threw his knife, which barely cleared Mayhem’s crotch, passing through his legs and sticking. Mayhem looked down to make sure he was still in one piece.
“That was terribly exciting,” Demarco said as he marked the spots.
Mayhem managed to throw his knife to the same spot. His knife hit the corner of Allan’s shoe, creating a slight cut on his toe.
“Aaaah!” the boys yelled.
Allan moved his foot, examining the cut in his shoe.
“Allan won!” Demarco exclaimed.
And then Allan fainted.
“And he’s down,” Mayhem added.
One of the boys on the lookout made a birdcall in the background. The boys looked up, alarmed, and ran.
Mayhem lifted Allan by one shoulder, “What a pain.”
Demarco lifted Allan’s other shoulder, and they scurried back to their cabin, Allan’s feet dragging behind them.