Stu Truly

by Dan Richards

  Really? I was usually the one my family had to wait for. “I liked it better when there weren’t girls.”

  Ben giggled. “We’d be at the top of the Zipper barfing our guts out right now.”

  “Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

  Without warning, Kirsten and Becca materialized out of the darkness.

  They approached looking—different. Both were wearing pink lipstick and mascara. Both had curled their hair. Both looked like they had stepped out of a teen magazine. The zombie warlord in my chest woke up and reminded me there were no chain saws, no flamethrowers, and no extra lives when it came to this type of apocalypse. If they had walked up and sucked the life right out of my chest, I would’ve died with my eyes bugging out and my lips frozen in a goofy grin.

  “Hey, boys,” Kirsten said.

  “Hey, girls,” Ben replied without missing a beat.

  “Mbthmbth—” I mumbled like only I could.

  “Hey, Stu,” Becca said with a smile.

  “Yes,” I sputtered for no apparent reason.

  “Let’s go,” Kirsten said. “I’m dying to ride the Zipper.” She led the way as we serpentined our way through the crowd. We found the entrance beneath a flashing sign that read The Zipper—Zip at Your Own Risk.

  “Is that the ride?” Becca said, her eyes wide as she pointed at the cars dangling upside down above us.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Hardly anyone ever dies . . . that you hear about.”

  “How many die that you don’t hear about?”

  “Probably lots.”

  After a short wait, the ride operator ushered us to a car directly behind Ben and Kirsten. We climbed into a compartment that looked like the insides of a rusty barrel. The operator pulled our shoulder harnesses tight, then tested the buckles to make sure we were locked in.

  “Is this ride safe?” Becca asked.

  “Not particularly,” he quipped, slamming the compartment door. “Enjoy the ride, little lady.”

  At this point, I felt like a photo I once saw of the first Russian cosmonaut. He was launched into orbit on the wafer-thin belief that a capsule the size of a hot tub could carry him into space and back again. All the while knowing that if the tiniest calculation proved incorrect, he’d disintegrate in a flash of cosmic glory.

  Our car lurched upward while another car loaded. Ben and Kirsten waved at us through their rear window.

  “Please keep your hands inside the cars at all times,” came the voice of the ride operator over the PA system.

  “Count down with us,” Ben and Kirsten yelled.

  Becca took my hand. “I’m scared.”

  Frankly, I was sweating a bit myself. “Hold on,” I said.

  “Five, four, three—” Ben and Kirsten shouted.

  Our car bounced. Something that sounded like a transmission clanking into gear groaned below.

  “Two, one, blastoff!” we yelled in unison with them.

  An engine roared and our car swung upward like a catapult being released.

  “AHH!!!” Becca screamed, squeezing my hand with the strength of a five-hundred-pound gorilla.

  “AHH!!!” I screamed, hoping my hand wouldn’t look like my nose before the ride was over.

  “AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!” we screamed together as the car reached the peak and flipped upside down.

  “AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!” we screamed continuously as the ride alternated between rocketing us into space, then flinging us back at the ground. About halfway through, I concluded my mother making breakfast for dinner had been a bad idea.

  “This is awesome!” Becca screamed in my ear.

  “Yeah!” I screamed back, trying to keep down the pancakes and sausages I’d eaten.

  At last, the ride slowed to a lurching stop and the operator freed us from our compartment of doom. We piled out, clinging to each other to keep from falling. Ben and Kirsten waited for us at the exit, giggling just like you’d expect.

  “That was the best,” Ben said as we stumbled together out the exit gate.

  Kirsten grabbed Becca’s arm. “Let’s do it again!”

  Becca shook her head. “No way. Once was enough for me. I thought I was gonna lose my dinner up there.”

  “Don’t be a baby,” I scolded, holding my stomach. “That was child’s play.”

  “Then come with us!” Kirsten said, grabbing my arm.

  I hadn’t expected that. “That’s okay. I’ll stay here with Becca and look for a quiet place to die.”

  “Babies,” Ben said with a laugh. “Although if I go again, I’ll be joining you.”

  At that moment, we looked up to see a posse of middle schoolers approaching. It was mostly girls— and Jackson.

  “Hi!” said Lisa, a girl I’d never noticed before but who appeared to have taken charge of the evening.

  “Hi!” Kirsten and Becca said in unison.

  After that, a lot of girl hugging took place. If boys hugged like that, a noogie brawl would break out. It would get ugly and probably mess up everyone’s hair. When you get to my age, hair is one of the few things a guy can still control.

  “We’re on our way to the bumper cars!” Lisa said excitedly. Apparently anything said at the carnival had to be said excitedly.

  Kirsten jumped up and down like a spastic cheerleader. “That sounds like fun!”

  It’s worth noting that the bumper cars at this carnival were more like bumper turtles. Old people with walkers could safely cross in front of them without risk of injury. The only time anyone got hurt was when they dozed off and hit their head on the padded steering wheel. However, from the reaction of the girls, this was going to be the most AWESOME ride EVER. It would probably eclipse square dancing and might even contend with their last birthday sleepover.

  Jackson nodded from the far side of the girl crowd. He would have come over to say hello, but a gaggle of girls were holding his arms like he was some sort of Thanksgiving Day parade balloon. Poor guy. He just couldn’t catch a break.

  Surprisingly, there was no line at the bumper cars when we arrived. Apparently, the toddler crowd had moved on to Miss Myrtle’s Magical Merry-Go-Round and left this bad boy to us. By tucking my knees up to my chest, I was able to squeeze into my car. How Jackson fit into his I don’t know. From the looks of it, he’d need a can opener to get out. Ben gave me a thumbs-up from his car, which told me just how much he was into Kirsten. The last time anyone forced him to go on the bumper cars, he gave them a noogie that left a permanent dent in their head. You can still see it behind my left ear. We were five at the time.

  The operator gave us a few instructions that amounted to “please don’t get up and leave before the ride is over no matter how lame it is.” With that, he turned on the electricity and the cars lurched forward an inch at a time. I found myself sufficiently bored right up until I caught a flash of motion from behind. The next thing I knew, my car was pushed up against the railing. I turned to find Jackson heading away. He wove in and out of traffic as if the cars were standing still, which some were. And then he bumped into Becca’s car just hard enough to make her giggle.

  I’d seen enough. I turned and gave chase. What I mean is I turned and lurched my way forward like an angry snail. In the meantime, Jackson circled the oval course again, and slammed me into the center barrier. Some guys have all the luck. He got the one bumper car that could actually move. I eased my car away from the barrier, then made the bold decision to drive in the opposite direction. The operator shouted a stern warning, something to the effect of I would be forced to go on the ride a second time if I didn’t follow the rules. Undeterred, I bore down on Jackson as he came ’round again.

  They say revenge is best served cold. That seemed odd since all I felt was hot and cramped in my turtle-mobile. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t see Gretchen bearing down on me from the side. To make a slow story short, Jackson zipped past just before Gretchen nuzzled me into the far corner. Both cars refused to budge. Agonizing minutes went by as we both worked to free our useless pile-o
f-crud cars. At last, the operator put us both out of our misery by turning the electricity off and ending the ride.

  “Hope you had as much fun as I did,” he said with a yawn.

  On the fun scale, it had been right behind getting stitches and having my nose reset. Strangely, everyone else seemed to have had a grand time.

  “That was AMAZING!” Lisa said loudly enough to make the ride operator drop his cigarette.

  “We should do it again!” Kirsten agreed.

  “I don’t know, it was kind of scary,” said a girl who wasn’t joking.

  Jackson ambled off toward the game area. A half dozen girls followed. That seemed to sway the rest of the group as we followed the plinking and plunking sounds of air rifles being fired, Ping-Pong balls clinking off glass plates, and money being changed at an alarming rate. Giant stuffed animals lured us in promising fame and fortune to anyone lucky enough to win. The girls oohed and aahed over the prizes, stating their choices just loudly enough for any hero-in-the-making to hear.

  I, for one, was trying to figure out what had happened to the “date” I was supposed to be on. Becca appeared on the far side of the group, inches closer to Jackson than me. It was enough to make my stomach churn.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t navigate through the sea of girls, concession stands, and rigged games to reach her. In a moment of weakness, I was lured over to a stand selling corn dogs. If there’s one thing that every carnival needs, it’s a corn dog stand. Pairing corn bread with hot dogs had been a moment of culinary brilliance. Deep-frying the concoction took it to the level of genius worthy of song. I plunked my hard-earned allowance down and took possession of a golden-brown piece of perfection jammed on a stick. All it needed was a little ketchup and mustard to send me to corn dog paradise.

  “What’s that?”

  Oh, ship. I turned to find Becca beside me.

  “This?” I said, pointing at the only thing in my hand. “This? This is for Ben.” I hung my head as I handed my beautiful golden taste treat to my best friend. “Here. Eat it and die.”

  “Thanks,” Ben said, stuffing the corn dog, stick and all, into his mouth. Geez, he has a big mouth. He slid the naked stick out and handed it back. I hate that guy.

  A commotion brought our attention to where Jackson stood before a game so insidious I had refused to go near it in the past. Actually, I had spent hours watching men of all shapes and sizes try their luck to no avail. The challenge seemed simple enough. A rope ladder had been stretched at a forty-five-degree angle between two hooks. The object was to climb the ladder and ring the bell at the top. This seemed simple enough, until you realized the two hooks were free spinning, meaning the slightest imbalance would flip the ladder upside down, throwing the climber off onto a mat below. Seeing a crowd forming, the operator climbed up the ladder and rang the bell with the dexterity of a circus acrobat.

  “Anyone man enough?” he said, eyeing all the men present. Since there were no men present, his eyes came to rest on Jackson, Ben, and me.

  The legion of giggling girls around Jackson pushed him forward. He responded by flexing for the crowd, which brought an audible “ooh.” He then climbed up on stage and grabbed hold of the ladder. Keeping his body low like a stalking panther, he shinnied his way up the ladder without missing a beat and rang the bell.

  From the screaming that ensued, you would have thought he had just saved the universe. This, of course, led to another round of flexing for the crowd. I didn’t have enough testosterone in my body to throw up a manly goose bump, let alone a muscle that could be seen through skintight cotton.

  Kirsten pushed Ben forward. “Your turn.”

  This brought on another round of screaming from the increasingly raucous group of girls. Seriously, they needed a boy band to stop by so they could get their groupie-ness out before someone got hurt, or lost their hearing. In the meantime, Ben walked forward and faced the ladder. Throwing a confident grin at his fan base, he mounted the ropey beast. The operator lifted his microphone and fueled the crowd into a further frenzy.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we just had our first winner all evening. Is it possible we’ll have two in a row?”

  I could see Ben trembling as he tried to keep the ladder steady, the veins in his neck bulging from the effort. He moved his feet one rung up, bringing his hands and feet almost together. His back bowed like a cornered cat. The ladder shook as he coiled himself. How it didn’t flip over was a Christmas miracle. And then he did something only Ben could be stupid enough to attempt. He leapt like a bullfrog. Doing so without flipping the ladder deserved a footnote in the Guinness World Records under the category Acts That Can Only Be Done Under the Influence of Adrenaline. Everyone gasped. With one flailing hand, Ben smacked the ringer on the bell before crashing to the mat below in a heap of glory.

  The response from the crowd was deafening. The ground shook like an earthquake. Windows in nearby towns probably shattered. I couldn’t help but give him a single clap, I was that moved. Ben stood and bowed to the crowd, basking in the moment. The game operator shook his hand as he gave him a stuffed animal the size of a whale, which incidentally was a whale. Ben immediately gave it to Kirsten to a round of “aww” from the crowd. My eyes watered. With envy. Being a true friend, Ben quieted the crowd, then pointed in my direction.

  “You’re up!” he called out.

  At this point, Ben could have called an infant up and the crowd would have gone wild. And given recent events, the baby probably would have taken its first steps crossing the ladder before doing a backflip to ring the bell. However, I was no baby, no matter how badly I wanted to be at that moment. Unfortunately, I was forced to march like a man up onto the stage to the chant of “STU, STU, STU!”

  “For the first time in the history of this great carnival,” the operator shouted into the microphone, “two young men in a row have rung the bell!” He turned to me. “Tell me, will you be the third?”

  The response from the crowd made it clear they believed, even if I had to grow wings and fly my way to the bell. I would have given anything for a genie that could grant that kind of wish. No such luck. Not even the psychic from the palm reading tent made an appearance. That left two choices: run away screaming or run away crying and screaming. It was a difficult choice.

  I took hold of the ladder. The ropes felt firm, almost inviting. The ladder was really quite short, not more than ten feet in length. I could see now how Ben had been able to leap his way to the end. The operator stepped close.

  “Move like a lizard lifting opposing arms and legs. And don’t fall,” he said with a small maniacal laugh. The art of the small maniacal laugh is underrated. Let me tell you, it’s a highly effective way to scare the bejeezus out of a young man facing a medieval test of manhood. Take me for example. It was all I could do to take hold of the rope while squeezing my bladder shut at the same time. At any moment, I risked losing one or the other, and I could only hope it’d be the rope.

  I eased myself up until my body was off the ground. The ladder felt stable so long as I lay perfectly still. Behind me, the crowd began to murmur. I slid my left hand and right foot up a rung. I let out a sigh of relief. The first rung hadn’t been so bad. That’s when I felt a tiny shudder run through the ropes.

  “You’re on your own now,” the operator whispered.

  He’d been holding it steady? The thought hit me like a load of bricks. Apparently literally, because the ladder shook violently, then flipped before I could plead for mercy. I clung on for dear life. That is, my hands clung. My feet had never clung to anything in their life and weren’t about to now. I hung for a moment like the butt end of a bad joke. Were I an acrobat, or a gymnast, or a little girl, I would have deftly swung my feet up and climbed back on. However, I was none of those. In the time it took the crowd to gasp, my fingers slipped and I tumbled onto the mat like a crumpled leaf.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” the operator shouted to the crowd. “So close. Who’s next?”

  I
crawled off the mat. I would have continued crawling if it were not for Ben’s legs blocking my path. “Dude, that was hilarious!”

  “Shut up.”

  He gave me a hand off the ground. “No, seriously. It was awesome!”

  “Where’s your whale? I’d like to shove it up your—”

  “C’mon, you have to admit that was pretty crazy.”

  I shook myself off. “The only crazy thing is that I agreed to get up there.”

  “You’re a rock star.”

  If any part of my body had been a rock, I would have crushed Ben’s head with it. As it was, all I could do was smile and hope he’d get food poisoning from my corn dog.

  Kirsten and Becca were waiting near the coin toss booth.

  “That looked scary,” Becca said with admiration in her voice.

  “Not really,” I replied. “More like terrifying.”

  That brought a giggle. From Ben.

  Meanwhile, Kirsten was showing off her life-sized whale to Gretchen.

  “Can you believe it?” she said.

  “That was so cool,” Gretchen said, eyeing Ben while completely ignoring me. She held up a stuffed dolphin that looked more like a stuffed gym sock. “Isn’t it cute?”

  I’d seen cuter in my laundry basket.

  Gretchen pointed to a boy hidden on the other side of the booth. “He won it at one of the shooting games and gave it to me.”

  The boy came over. My jaw dropped. Ryan stood next to Gretchen. He saw us and smiled, the blush on his face matching hers perfectly.

  Before I had time to adjust to the shock of Ryan and Gretchen together, Tyler showed up. With a girl. And not just any girl. He walked up with Annie, the girl in our school most likely to be chosen for the cover of a teen magazine. And she was smiling at him. At Tyler? Our Tyler? True, he was kinda tall. And had perfectly coiffed hair. And fine features including sleek, supple lips.

  Honestly, who was I kidding? I had no idea what he looked like. I couldn’t recognize a good-looking guy if one dropped on me with a sign that read Hey, stupid. I’m good-looking. When I checked out a guy, I mostly saw dork written across their forehead, especially if they had made the mistake of going to sleep early at one of Ben’s sleepovers.