The train’s whistle pierced the air. The tracks shuddered. All he heard was the thunder of the train and its whistle blaring. Closer and closer, bigger and bigger, the train’s wheels screeched as the driver tried to stop and Jim could vaguely see the driver’s face twisted in fear or was it anger?
Jim froze. He was limp and numb but leaped out of the way a moment before the train squealed by. One of the boys helped him back up on the platform. The others surrounded him, shouting cheers and slapping him on the back and shaking his hand.
One of the guys pulled Jim aside. “That was gutsy,” he said. “Weren’t you scared?”
“Yeah,” Jim said. “Real scared. I’m still shaking. But it’s a funny thing.”
“What’s that?”
“It sounds goofy, but I enjoyed it. It excited me.”
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