by Meg Leder
I shoot an anxious smile at the couple, but if they’ve heard, they don’t seem to care, the taller man leaning down to kiss his partner. “You’ll be fine,” he says.
His partner looks like he might throw up before even getting on the ride.
I want to take that guy’s hand and pull him right out of the line, so the two of us can make a break for it.
A rickety old car pulls into the station, the turnstiles open, and the guys in front of us file in. An employee starts checking to make sure everyone’s safety bars are secure.
“You should take off your glasses,” the worker says to the nervous guy. “Don’t want to lose them along the way. Want us to hold them?”
As the guy hands them over, I turn to Ruby.
“So, I think maybe I’ll wait for you guys—” I start, right as the employee raises his hand in an all clear and the train takes off.
Ruby doesn’t hear me over the noise of the train. “Did you guys know the Beast is the longest wooden roller coaster in the United States? There are other smoother rides, but this one is a classic.”
Smoother?
“I’ve actually never been on it,” Charlie replies.
“What? I’m so excited for you!” Ruby yells, leaning over and squeezing Charlie’s arm, then dropping it almost as quickly. “When was the last time you rode a coaster?”
“When we were kids. Before I got sick, right, Parker? It was the kids’ one. I think it was called the Fairly Odd Coaster.” Charlie looks to me. “Wasn’t that the time you started to get on but you were crying?”
I frown, shaking my head.
“That coaster’s still here,” Ruby says, right as an empty set of cars pulls in front of us. “I think they call it Woodstock Express now. Or maybe that was the name last year? Whatever it’s called, we’ll hit it later.”
“But isn’t it for kids?” Charlie asks.
“Oh, we’re doing them all,” she assures us.
I look for the guy with the glasses, but the car in front of us is empty, and maybe every single person flew out of their seats and isn’t coming back, but then I feel a slight nudge on my shoulder, Charlie bending down close to my ear so Ruby doesn’t hear.
“They run two trains at a time,” he says. “The first group is still in the middle of their ride.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. I knew that,” I say quickly, even though I didn’t.
Ruby climbs into the front seat and carefully puts her glasses into a case and then into her purse, then shoves her purse on the floor of the car. Charlie hops into the seat behind her, riding by himself. I look down at both of them, my feet frozen on the wood platform.
I don’t know why I can’t just tell them I don’t want to ride the coaster.
But the words are stuck in my throat.
The employee is checking all the bars and moving toward the front of the ride, and I still don’t move.
“Parker?” Ruby asks.
“I don’t. I can’t.”
The employee stops at our cars. “Are you getting on?”
“I just think, maybe, I don’t . . . ,” I stammer.
“Here,” Charlie says, half standing, patting the seat next to him. “It’ll be okay. Sit here.”
I hesitate for a second, but Charlie meets my eyes. “You got this.”
Shaky, I climb in next to him, my legs already sticky with nervous sweat against the vinyl seat, watching as he lowers the padded safety bar against our legs.
Charlie leans forward to Ruby. “You okay by yourself?”
She nods happily. “Oh yeah. I’m ready.”
I grip the safety bar in front of me as the train starts to move onto the old wooden track, everything clunking and knocking like it has arthritis.
My hands are knuckle-locked around the bar, like they were during my valedictorian speech. I try to breathe as the train begins to ascend the first hill.
“Don’t throw up on me,” Charlie says, and I’m tempted to snap, Vomiting is the least of my worries, but then I see his face and realize he’s trying to calm me down, so I force out a strained smile.
“I’ll try to angle it over the side.”
We move up the big hill slowly and steadily, and I look enviously at the emergency steps running parallel with the track, wondering if there’s anything I could do to stop the train at this point and then make my way down.
I venture a look below. Everything is getting smaller by each second—trees, houses, buildings, lives.
Ruby pokes her head between the seats. “How are things back there?”
“What do you say, Parker?” Charlie asks. “You doing okay?”
I know he’s asking about riding the roller coaster, but the question could apply to so much more.
I want to tell him I’m terrified of becoming a doctor.
I want to tell him that I’m even more terrified of not becoming one.
I want to tell him that everything is a mess, that I hate the in-between space, that my feet ache for the ground, that a very small, very scared part of me wants to touch the sky, and that that is maybe the worst thing of all.
The train starts to slow as it gets near the top of the hill.
“I don’t know,” I finally say, which is the truth.
Charlie puts his hand on top of mine, holding it tight, anchoring me. “It’s okay. I got you now, okay? I got you,” he says.
I look over. It’s the first time he’s had my back in ages, the first time he’s tried, the first time I’ve let him. I nod. “Okay,” I say.
For one agonizing second, it feels like we actually stop at the peak, the train poised between the past and the future, and then the first seat starts to tilt over, and both of Ruby’s hands shoot straight up, and then our car is at the top, and I gulp hard, looking at my hands, and it’s still there, Charlie’s left hand clasped on top of my right, keeping me from flying away.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and we fly down, down, down, so fast, and I open my eyes, and the world is a blur around us, the seats shaking on the wooden track, the wind blowing fast and strong, and my mouth pulls back in a smile, because Charlie’s not going to let me go, and it all feels familiar then, my brother’s hand on mine and the soaring feeling—a feeling I thought I never had—the memory of wings.
Thirty-Three
WHILE WE’RE WAITING FOR Charlie to bring our LaRosa’s pizza, Ruby and I watch the Diamondback coaster glide down the hill, all power and momentum, slicing through the surface of the lake below it, water splashing everywhere.
“I want to do that one next,” she says.
“White Water Canyon,” I remind her.
Since riding the Beast this morning, we’ve tackled the Banshee, the Racer, and the Vortex roller coasters. While the lines for each have gotten longer as the day’s gone on, the rides have also been a little less scary each time. Turns out, roller coasters make me laugh, which isn’t the worst thing. That being said, the upside-down loops on the Vortex left me feeling both queasy and hungry, and as the day is getting progressively warmer, rather than going straight to another coaster, I insisted we stop for food and then a nice hill-free water ride.
“All right, all right. I guess we have time for something else,” she says with an enormous dramatic sigh. She looks over her shoulder for Charlie, then leans closer. “So what’s the deal with you and Finn?”
“Nothing. There’s no deal,” I say.
“You came looking for him that night at the Float, and then next thing I know, you’re not ‘associating’ with him,” she says, doing finger quotes.
“It’s more like he’s not associating with me,” I say. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
Ruby rolls her eyes. “Oh my God, you guys are both such dorkwads.”
“Hey! What does that mean?”
“He said the same thing when I asked him about you. He said you blew him off.”
“That’s totally not true!”
“He said the last time you talked, you couldn�
�t get away from him fast enough.”
I try to remember our encounter at the Float and shake my head. “Not him. Johnny.”
Ruby straightens. “Did something happen?”
I shrug.
“Was it more of that crap he pulled the other day with you in the parking lot?”
I don’t answer.
“Parker, you should tell Finn.”
“No, it’s fine. Besides, it was more than that. Finn also got super weird when I gave him a gift certificate, going on about charity.”
I stop.
Kids in our class used to say Finn got his clothes from the lost-and-found box, that he never had any money for lunch.
Charity is the last thing he wants from me.
“Crap,” I say, burying my head in my hands.
“What?” Ruby asks, but I just shake my head.
“Listen,” she continues. “Maybe give the friendship thing another chance. I know I complain about him. But he’s like my brother. He can be really thoughtful when you need a friend.”
Her words remind me of how quickly he came to my rescue the day he picked me up from the hospital, how he adjusted the air vents in his truck so all the cool air would blow my way.
“One day when I just started working at the Float, all those girls from my honors class came in, the ones I was trying to be friends with?” Ruby nervously moves one of the twenty silver bracelets she’s wearing back and forth on her wrist. “They had just come from prom and were with their dates, and it took them, like, five minutes to even realize they knew me. But I’m pretty sure Finn took extra-long with their orders because he could tell I was upset.”
Of course he did.
“Finn Casper is actually a really good person, though if you ever tell him I said that, I will deny it to my dying day. Besides, he keeps asking if you’re doing okay, and I’m tired of answering for you.”
“Why wouldn’t I be doing okay?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he’s referring to.
She takes a steadying breath and then looks me straight in the face, and in the sunlight, I can see the specks of amber glinting gold in her eyes. “Truth time? Maybe it’s because you haven’t told anyone in your family that you quit your internship yet?”
My stomach tightens. I wondered if Ruby was going to bring that up. She clearly caught my lie at Skyline. I’ve been avoiding Em for this very reason, and the last thing I want to do is fight with Ruby about it.
“It’s not that easy,” I say, and as the words leave my mouth, I feel myself get hotter, sweat pooling behind my knees, my palms getting clammy.
“I’m not saying it is. I just think maybe you should talk about it with someone.” She looks away, fidgeting even more with her silver bracelets, the charms as jangly as she is, and then the realization dawns on me with all the subtlety of one of those cartoon anvils dropping on someone from overhead.
“Oh crap. Ruby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position.”
She looks up, confused.
“It’s not fair of me to ask you to keep my secret in front of Charlie. I’m sorry!”
Ruby lets out a relieved half laugh. “No, that’s not it at all. It’s just, well . . .” She looks over at the Diamondback roller coaster, like she’s nervous about what she’s going to say next. “I just thought I could be the someone when you want to talk. No pressure or anything.”
“Oh,” I say. “I mean, thank you.”
She nods, and the two of us are quiet. I can see Ruby’s eyes tracing the path of the cars as they sleekly move along the tracks.
“You really love roller coasters, don’t you?” I ask after a few seconds.
She nods easily. “Totally. If I didn’t want to be a doctor, I’d design roller coasters.”
“You’d be awesome at that.”
“What would you be?”
“What?”
“If you weren’t going to be a doctor, what would you be?”
“I . . . I don’t . . . I’m not . . .”
Ruby waits, squinting in the sunlight, her attention fully on me.
The range of possible answers feels as dark and endless and lonely as outer space, but I remind myself this person in front of me wants to be my friend.
“I have no clue,” I finally admit.
“Was there something you wanted to be when you were a kid, before you knew you wanted to be a doctor? I thought I wanted to be an artist who painted roses.” She laughs at herself.
I pause for a second. “Actually, I wanted to be my dad,” I say, surprised at the memory.
“You wanted to be a copywriter?”
I shake my head. “No, I just wanted to be happy like him. And this was before he worked at the copywriting firm. Back then I didn’t know what he did exactly, but I knew that’s what I wanted—to come home and be as happy as he was.”
Before I can focus too much on it, Charlie returns. “One large pepperoni pizza,” he says, sliding the box onto our metal table with a flourish.
Ruby looks like she wants to say more about the internship, about our dad, but I’m ready to change the subject.
“Why does the pizza always smell so much better here than it does at the actual restaurants?” I open the box and grab a slice, cheese pulling apart at the edges.
Ruby hands Charlie a ten, but he shakes his head. “I got it, Roo.”
I expect her to reprimand him for the shortening of her name like she did with Finn, but instead she smiles shyly.
I bite into the cheesy goodness and try not to think too hard about my conversation with Ruby.
I try not to care.
But after a few minutes of pretending to listen to her and Charlie rate the roller coasters we’ve ridden this morning, I realize I can’t stop thinking about it.
I used to look forward to growing up.
And now that it’s in front of me, I’m terrified.
I don’t know if I want to be a doctor.
And I don’t know who I am without that.
I look over at Charlie, to reassure myself that he’s there, and that’s when I see the purple blooms on his upper arms—twin bruises, round and large, in near parallel positions.
“Charlie!” I grab the closest arm, pulling it toward me.
“Geez,” he snaps, yanking his arm back before seeing what I see. His eyes widen, but then he shakes his head slowly, calmly. “The doctor said this could happen for a while. It’s not a big deal.”
“It kind of looks like a big deal,” I say, panic coursing through me.
“Relax. My last test came back fine.”
I shake my head. “Maybe we should just call it quits. What time is it? Two? I can call Mom, and I bet she can get you a doctor appointment this evening.”
“Parker, you’re not listening to me.”
“It’s probably from one of the rides,” Ruby adds, but I’m already cleaning our table, tossing napkins in the nearby garbage can, folding the pizza box top closed.
“I mean, I know it’s the weekend,” I say. “But Dr. Travis knows you. She’ll make an exception.” I grab our pizza box and stand, but Ruby and Charlie haven’t moved from their seats. Charlie looks irritated, but Ruby just looks nervous, glancing between the both of us.
“We’re not leaving. I’m fine,” Charlie says.
“You can’t be too safe,” I say.
“You can when it’s ruining our day.”
“So you’re not going to leave? You’re just going to let this go?” I ask, my voice getting louder.
“Hey,” Ruby says quietly, but I ignore her.
“Yeah, I’m going to let it go,” Charlie says. “Because it’s nothing.”
“How do you know it’s nothing? You don’t know that.”
“Um, Parker?” Ruby says more insistently, and maybe it’s all the built-up adrenaline from the coasters or the too-bright sun or the fact that I don’t know who I am, but the one thing I do know is that I’m not letting this go.
“For
chrissakes,” Charlie says. “So you want to go straight to our parents again? I can’t believe how fucking predictable you are. You can’t leave me alone for more than two hours, can you? I don’t want you up in my business, Parker. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.”
The words sting, but I don’t care. If he’s still sick, it doesn’t matter what he thinks.
Ruby stands up. “Parker.” She points to my upper arms, the same area where Charlie’s bruises have formed. There are two round reddish spots, smaller blooms than Charlie’s, but most likely the start of bruises too.
I push the spots gently, feel the tender skin.
“I bet they’re from the shoulder braces on the Vortex. If you hold them like this . . .” Ruby demonstrates an arm hold just like the one I used. “You probably held on so hard you bruised yourself. You both did.”
Charlie folds his arms. “See?” he says, his voice still sharp, furious.
“Just sit down,” Ruby says. “We’ll eat and then we’ll do White Water Canyon and take it from there, okay?”
Chagrined, I put the pizza box back on the table, but the joy of the morning is clearly gone. Charlie and I are quiet, and Ruby talks in double time to try to make up for our sullen silence.
After a totally unpleasant hour-long wait for White Water Canyon, followed by an equally tense ride, I tell Charlie and Ruby I’m going to watch a musical show in the Festhaus and that I’ll meet up with them later. I wait for Charlie to point out that I hate musicals, but he can’t get away from me quickly enough.
I don’t watch a show. Instead, I spend the next two hours sitting by the long line of fountains by the entrance, watching families pose happily with costumed characters, unable to escape the feeling that I can’t blame Charlie. I’m not sure I want to be around me right now either.
Thirty-Four
“ARE YOU SURE I can’t tempt you to stay and practice more? It’s air-conditioned in here,” Carla calls out as I scoop up another mess of a failed bowl and try not to dump it too forcefully into the scraps pail.