A Trip Down Slip Hill

By Reina Howard

From the time Malcolm Sandoval was four and his mother warned him off the neighbors trampoline, he hated being told what to do. Which is why, against the strict instructions of his uncle, he was going to race his cousin Ben down Slip Hill. 

The forbidden hill lay to the east of his uncle’s property, tall, brown and enticing. Despite the warning of parents and teachers, the hill remained a popular race track for the neighborhood kids in spring and summer, an exciting place to play when their parents had kicked them out of the house to stay out from under foot. Named for the way the dirt slipped beneath one’s feet, those who tried to run down it often failed to make it to the bottom unscathed, sliding into the treacherous trenches of sharp shrubbery on the edge of the road. One who bested the hill and escaped without injuries, a rare feat indeed, could boast proudly they had walked away unharmed. 

So when Malcolm’s uncle warned him not to race on that hill, Malcolm heard not a warning from a man entrusted with his care, but a challenge. His mother had sent him to her brothers in hopes a male influence would break his obstinate streak. Or at the very least, temper it. Instead, it took less than  two hours for Malcolm to goad his cousin into a race, and less than fifteen minutes for them to round up the neighborhood kids to watch.

The two boys now stood at the top of Slip Hill surrounded by other excitable children, all eager to see if the mystery boy Malcolm could really win. This was the first time Malcolm had seen an aerial view of the track ahead of him, and the sure fire confidence which had gotten him this far began to wane. The hill was steep and tall, leading into a slightly curved road where the finish line was an old dead tree. 

From the sidelines, Susie Dee twisted the scarf in her hands, the pink one she had ‘borrowed’ from her eldest sister’s room while she was gone at college. 

“Ready,” she called “Set. GO!” A flash of pink waved from the sidelines as the two boys took off. 

Like a flash, Malcolm was halfway down the hill before his cousin. He picked up speed as he came to the bottom of the slope, convinced he was going to win. If he had grown up in that neighborhood, and raced (or merely walked) down that hill before, Malcolm would have known how foolish this was. Instead, unprepared and filled with the belief he was sure to win, the slick silty dirt under his feet gave way. He jerked forward, ankle twisting. Dirt flew up in his face, and he swung out his arms, trying to balance himself but there was no point. His feet fell out from under him, and down he went. 

As cousin Ben crossed the finish line, Malcolm was covered in dirt and blood and bruises on the edge of the track. His body ached all over from his impact with the ground. His right arm and hip aching the worst. Small cuts covered his legs from where they slid through a small patch of berry bushes. Instead of getting up, Malcolm rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and taking in the summer sun as he replayed what happened a few moments earlier. He could hear someone talking loudly, but he didn’t care enough to listen. Before long, the crunching sound of boots on dirt disturbed Malcolms peace, and he opened one eye to see who had approached. 

“You should’ve listened to me kid ” his uncle said gruffly, standing with his arms crossed. Considering what Malcom had just done, the expression on his uncle’s face was rather calm, if not disinterested. 

“Now you’re hurt, and I have your mom to deal with.” When Malcolm made no effort to move, his uncle let out an exasperated sigh before reaching out a helping hand. 

Rather tired of the whole thing, Malcolm took his uncle’s hand and pulled himself up. After a quick examination to make sure all his bones were intact, and no cuts were too deep, Malcolm, Ben and his uncle headed home. 

With a hand on the doorknob of his house, the uncle turned to his nephew and asked.

“Would you have pulled that stunt if I hadn’t told you not to?”

Even with his throat dry and hoarse from inhaling quite a lot of dirt and his body sore from his failed escapade, Malcolm couldn’t help but smile a devilish smile and croak 

“No.”