Read For I Could Lift My Finger and Black Out the Sun for Free Online

someone left a unit open — old tables, appliances, whatever. We didn’t even have a hammer, we just called it the hammer trick. We’d find something else hard and metal, compact enough that we could easily swing it with one hand, similar to a hammer. Then we’d bring it slamming down, crushing our other hand.
     
    And that hand would shif t .
     
    On its own, with no input from our brain or muscles, it would move out of the way of the falling hammer-like object. Sometimes it was subtle, like a few of our fingers separating themselves to allow the blow to miss. Sometimes more drastic — watching closely, it was like our hand would sluice out of the way, losing distinct form where it sat waiting to be crushed and regaining form in a new place.
     
    It was mind-boggling.
     
    The first time Bobby tried it, I called him out. “You totally moved!” I cried.
     
    Bobby looked back, eyes wide. “Didn’t. Honest.”
     
    “Shut up, liar.”
     
    “You do it,” he said, daring me.
     
    “No way.”
     
    “Then how about this,” Bobby said that first time. “You smash my hand while I’m not looking. No way I can move in time if I’m not watching, right?” I hesitated, then agreed.
     
    Because, like I said, boys could be real dicks as friends. So, in order to call him out, I had to prove he was cheating by smashing his hand into a bloody pulp.
     
    He handed me the hammer, which was actually just a discarded metal pipe. It was pretty heavy. Then he turned away, leaving one hand on the surface of someone’s credenza. “Go ahead,” he said, looking toward the back wall of the storage unit.
     
    I couldn’t resist a joke. “You know,” I said, “this is gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me.”
     
    Bobby turned back for just a second, with a serious but calm expression. “No, it won’t.” He turned away again.
     
    And I brought the pipe down.
     
    As I stood there, pipe wedged in the crack it had just made in the credenza’s mahogany surface, I thought to myself, How’d he do it? How’d he know when to flinch?
     
    But eventually Bobby convinced me. It wasn’t him, it was his body. It did the work for him. It just knew what to do, on its own, like it was preserving itself. Finally, he had me so convinced that I did the trick, too. First, with lighter implements that were unlikely to leave permanent damage. It worked. It wasn’t long before I moved up to pipes and other heavy hammers myself.
     
    Still, Bobby was the brave one. More willing to try the next crazy thing. Every time I did the hammer trick, I always assumed, this time it won’t work , and I’d be in the hospital again like a dunce. But it always worked. Always.
     
    As winter started to fade, Bobby’s appetite for stunts increased. One day, he was at my house and we were playing videogames. My mom was sewing at a table across the room. I could tell Bobby was anxious about something.
     
    Finally, Mom got up to get a soda, and Bobby turned to me. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “This is boring.”
     
    “I don’t feel like going to… going out… right now,” I said, not taking my eyes off the TV.
     
    “Come on, man. We’ve played this game like 50 times.” He got up and started pacing around the room.
     
    I ignored him.
     
    Then I heard the sewing machine start up. At first, I assumed my mom had returned.
     
    “Johnny,” Bobby said. “ John .” The second time it was more forceful, trying to get my attention. I paused the game and looked over, annoyed.
     
    “ What ?” I asked, exasperated. Then I saw what he was doing. Bobby had one foot on the pedal powering the sewing machine and he was holding his hand out toward the moving needle. “No — cut that out!” I said in a harsh whisper.
     
    He grinned. “I’m gonna do it.” I rushed over to stop him, and he thrust his hand under the rapidly bobbing needle.
     
    At just that moment, my mom came back in the room, carrying a glass of fizzing soda and