Dad puckered his lips for a moment, thinking. “And the other reason is that I’m in the business of making beautiful memories. And I’ll bet there’s not a single kid here today who’s going to forget the day they saw a huge doughnut and got to take a big bite out of it. Well, I guess that’s three reasons. But anyway, I hope you all have a great time helping us decorate the doughnut. We’ve got folks going around handing out buckets and bags of sprinkles.”
Dad glanced at me and I held up a bucket and a bag, then nodded at Emma Radlinger and the other Fabuland employees I’d managed to corral to do the same.
“So we’ll sprinkle it up, boogie to some music, have a good time. And then at eleven o’clock, after everyone’s had a chance to look at the doughnut, take some pictures and whatnot, we’ll remove the purple tape and everyone can come and grab themselves a bite. Sound good?”
A tentative cheer rose up from the crowd in the bleachers, followed by a smattering of applause from the crowds on the ground and in the Starship 360.
“Now, before we start the sprinkling, I also wanted to say—”
“Excuse me!” A loud, almost robotic-sounding voice came from the Starship 360. When I looked over, I saw that the voice was coming from Winnie. She was standing on one of the ride’s seats, holding a megaphone.
I glanced from Winnie to my dad, my pulse quickening.
My dad looked stunned, and Winnie pressed on.
“I’m sure Mr. Cork won’t mind if I say something on behalf of my cousin, Ethan Lavoie, who worked here at the beginning of the summer until he died on June twenty-ninth. We all miss him, and he is here in spirit.”
I looked back at my dad. He nodded, trying to look solemn but clearly, to me, brimming with nervous energy. His mouth was twitching, but his eyes were wide and unblinking. These were clearly unplanned remarks, but he didn’t want to step on them, given the sensitive subject matter. And given that this might make a longer and more nuanced story for Channel 12 News. I started to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Ethan loved Fabuland,” Winnie continued. “And he would’ve absolutely loved what’s happening here today, more than anyone I know. Which makes it even more difficult to share what we have to today.”
She reached down and yanked at the shirt of the person next to her. It took me a moment to realize that it was Reggie. He was pale and way thinner than the day I’d seen him. His face looked wrecked. I wondered how he could’ve been released from the hospital looking like he did. But still he stood up and Winnie handed him the megaphone.
“Hello,” he said absently into the megaphone, and then, as if startled to hear his voice so loud and distorted, muttered, “Oh shit.”
The crowd remained silent except for the sound of a small girl in the bleachers laughing—probably at the unexpected use of profanity.
Winnie took the megaphone back from him. “Reggie has something to say about the night my cousin died. He told me yesterday, and while we thought about going to the police this morning, we decided we didn’t want to miss this event. We didn’t want to miss the opportunity to first tell the story in the presence of all of you. Reggie?”
I was holding my breath as she handed him the megaphone again. Dad dropped his microphone and started to move to the edge of the platform. The Channel 12 News cameraman picked up his camera, hoisting it to one shoulder and turning it toward the Starship 360 instead of the stage.
“Ethan Lavoie didn’t die falling off the trestle in Brewer’s Creek Park,” Reggie cried into the megaphone. “He died at Fabuland. He died on the Laser Coaster.”
He collapsed back into his seat, but Winnie pulled him up again.
“Can you tell us how, Reggie?” Winnie pressed. She was shouting, so as not to interrupt Reggie’s use of the megaphone.
My father had jumped off the platform now and started running for the smaller, higher perch that held the Starship 360 controls.
“He wanted to go for one last ride,” Reggie said, somewhat robotically. “After his friends left and he came out of the bathroom, he was begging me for one more ride. It was just him and me, and he was so excited, I just gave in. Like, why not? But after about a minute on it by himself, he stopped screaming. I didn’t know what had happened. But when I brought him down to the exit area of the ride, he wasn’t conscious. He wasn’t moving.”
Dad appeared to be pressing a couple of buttons at the Starship 360 controls. Everyone was so focused on Winnie and Reggie that not many other people seemed to notice. Reggie was weeping into the megaphone now. The crowd was completely silent. But I was watching my father, thinking of him screaming, I always knew you wanted to stay small. Just a small person, I guess. And dragging my mother to another room by her elbow. The image darkened, eclipsed by a blanket provided by Jason, muted by folk music playing through earbuds.
The Starship 360 started moving. A couple of people gasped in surprise. A few people on the Starship 360 squeezed themselves into the already crowded seats. Others tried to hold on to its metal sides to steady themselves. Winnie stepped down from the seat she’d been standing on, staggered into Reggie, and then steadied herself.
“I tried to wake him up,” Reggie sobbed, still standing and gripping the railing in front of him with one hand. “Nothing. There was nothing. I know now that he’d probably had a massive seizure up there, but I didn’t know then. I was in shock, seeing him like that. I ran to get some help. The only person left was Mr. Cork. By the time we got back to the ride, it was obvious Ethan was dead. No heartbeat. We both tried to take his pulse.”
The ride was picking up speed.
“Shut it off!” someone yelled. It was Ben, who was pushing his way down the bleachers.
“I’m so sorry,” Reggie was saying, struggling to keep his footing but continuing to hold the megaphone close to his mouth. “But at least whatever happened…it was fast. Ethan didn’t die confused in the woods. He died on the roller coaster.”
I rushed to the ride operators’ platform.
“Dad!” I screamed. “Dad!”
Dad didn’t hear me, or didn’t want to. He elbowed Ben away from him.
“Let’s clarify this for everyone here!” Winnie shouted. “Including this news camera, and that police officer over there. Ethan didn’t fall off the bridge, did he?”
Adrenaline shot through me as I rushed up the steps of the Starship 360 control platform, toward my father. He stood his ground, seeing me but staring through me. For a moment, I glanced around for Jason, but didn’t see him anywhere in the crowd.
“No.” Reggie was wailing. “He never left the park. He died on the ride.”
The Starship 360 was quickly picking up speed. Within a minute or two, all these people would be upside down. A few people seemed to understand this. I heard seat belts buckling. But some still looked bemused, as if this might all be part of the program.
“Why…why did you…,” Winnie was saying. She was faltering, trying to steady herself by holding on to Reggie’s shirt.
“Mr. Cork decided not to call the police. Ethan was already dead. We needed to deal with this privately, he said. For the good of everyone. Someone dying on a ride, a kid with Down syndrome, so early in the summer, under fairly new ownership. He said we’d probably be shut down. Maybe for weeks, maybe longer. Lost jobs. He said I’d probably be investigated, especially since it was after hours and what was I doing, torturing a poor scared kid?”
The ride was doing a one-eighty by now. People were screaming and trying to steady themselves. I ran across the platform. The screams were intensifying, growing louder and more terrified. Reggie was trying to stay on his feet, hanging on to Winnie, still speaking into the megaphone.
I realized then that I was still holding the lavender-striped shovel.
“Mr. Cork convinced me. Just for that night, really. But after that it was too late. I’d already helped. He p
ut Ethan in his truck and then after midnight we drove around to the other side of Brewer’s Creek Park.”
“Move!” I yelled at Ben.
He did. He ducked. I pulled the shovel back like a baseball bat. I avoided Dad’s head and I swung. Hard. The shovel blade landed in the middle of his chest and there was a PUMF! sound.
“Who threw him over the bridge?” Winnie was screaming.
“We both did,” Reggie sobbed. “Mr. Cork asked me to. We parked up on Braeburn and carried him down the path.”
Dad went flying off the ride operator’s platform, arms flailing. There was a loud crack as he hit the concrete. I winced, because it sounded like the crack was his head.
It was hard to hear Reggie because so many people were screaming now.
I rushed to the red emergency stop button and slammed it. The Starship 360 started to slow down. The screaming started to die down too.
There was a long pause. People on the bleachers and the ride looked around, clearly wondering if it was over.
Winnie and Reggie were still talking into the megaphone, taking turns again. But I didn’t catch all the words as I rushed down to where my father lay. “Business decision” was repeated, along with “very sick man.”
My father was unconscious, but one hand was moving and an indistinct mumble came out of his mouth. I noticed a trickle of blood on the pavement beneath his ear.
“Dad?” I said, feeling tears come to my eyes. “Dad, I’m sorry. I had to.”
In my dream it had been me lying broken on the concrete, unconscious to myself and everything I was—everything we had been as a family. In my dream, it only hurt for a second and then it was over. But I knew this particular pain might be with me forever. It was a part of me—a part of who we were together.
“Is he okay?” Jason asked, kneeling next to me. Ben was behind him.
As he asked the question, an image flashed in my brain. Of my father and Reggie clumsily carrying Ethan’s lifeless body down the path from Braeburn Road—the quieter, less traveled road into the park, where they wouldn’t be seen. In the dark, in their panic, they don’t see Ethan’s prized blue sparkle scorpion fall out of his pocket, onto the path.
“I don’t know,” I said, pulling myself up to my feet, taking a step away from my father. “Call an ambulance.”
THIRTY-THREE
I rode in the ambulance with my father. He woke up enough to ask what had happened. But thankfully the EMT took over, asking him questions before I had a chance to say anything.
Do you know what day it is, Mr. Cork? How many fingers am I holding up? Who is the president of the United States?
I was still speechless, anyway. I was having trouble believing what had just happened.
Jason met us at the hospital and took over from there. He went with Dad to the examination room, for the stitches on his head, for the CT scan. When Dad was resting and waiting for the results, Jason visited me in the waiting room.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
I wasn’t sure if he was expecting me to laugh. Or cry. Or both.
“How is he?” I asked instead.
“They’ll probably keep him overnight, since he lost consciousness.” He hesitated, then grinned. “But then, we both know how easily Dad bounces back from a concussion.”
I cringed and Jason sat next to me.
“There are police officers waiting to talk to him,” he said softly, “but I guess the doctors aren’t letting them yet. I guess you don’t question someone when they might not be right in the head.”
“If they’re waiting for him to be right in the head, we might all be here a very long time,” I murmured.
“I meant they’re waiting to make sure there’s no brain trauma before he talks to the police,” Jason said. “How are you holding up?”
“I wonder if Dad remembers what happened to him,” I said, ignoring Jason’s question.
Jason went over to the vending machine and stared at its contents for a moment. I think he was actually staring at his reflection in the clear plastic.
“The funny thing about Dad,” he said. “Well, not funny, but you know what I mean….The interesting thing about him is that he selects what he wants to remember. Your part will fall into the story however he wants to tell it. Maybe you missed Ben and hit him instead. Someone else had the shovel and you were wrestling it away from them. Or maybe the Starship start button got bumped by accident, and he was the one trying to turn it off. And anyway, how much do you really still care what he thinks, at this point?”
I stared at my hands. One of my palms still had a slight lavender mark from the freshly painted shovel. I was glad it was there.
“I’ll probably always care. You know?”
Jason nodded. “I’ll stay here tonight. You don’t need to. You’ve been on right-hand duty a little too long, I think.”
“Jason,” I said slowly. “Did you know about Dad and Winnie?”
Jason looked stunned. “When did you find out?”
“Yesterday,” I admitted. It felt like the answer should have been A long time ago.
“I thought maybe that’s why you’d been asking about her. But I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure.”
“Probably a smart choice,” I admitted. “I had some fuzzy suspicion about it in the back of my head, I think. But I wasn’t ready to…look at it.”
“I walked in on them,” Jason said. “In his office. Last summer. He had his arm around her. They heard me at the last second but I caught them pulling out of a kiss. I mean, she was nineteen, I think, but…”
“Uh, let’s not…,” I mumbled. If he kept talking I’d probably have to go puke somewhere.
He snapped his mouth closed, clearly understanding.
I considered the lavender marks on my hands once more. Maybe I could somehow keep them there forever. Have them tattooed on. I had a feeling that I would want to remember for months to come—probably years—how it felt to swing that shovel.
“So that’s the real reason you didn’t want to come home?” I asked.
“Six of one, half dozen the other,” Jason said. “I just couldn’t handle him anymore. I’m sorry I left you to deal with it. Maybe I convinced myself your innocence was bliss.”
I nodded. “I think I’m going to take you up on your offer. I think I’m going to go home to Mom for a while.”
Jason stepped away from the vending machine and turned to give me one of his quick, awkward hugs. Apparently he didn’t need me to say it outright—that I wouldn’t be able to stomach being summoned to my father’s side.
“We’ll be okay eventually,” he said.
He didn’t sound very confident. But we’d have to go with it. For now, it was what we had.
THIRTY-FOUR
My mother seemed delighted at the opportunity to distract me all night long. We binge-watched two-thirds of a trashy Netflix mystery series and ate practically the whole blueberry pie, saving Jason one slice. My phone buzzed nonstop as Lexi Givens tried to call, and a few other news contacts—some I’d never heard of. Eventually I shut the phone off.
When I turned it back on in the morning, I ignored all the messages and texts except the one from Jason at 8:20 a.m.
A couple of police officers in Dad’s hospital room, he reported.
You want me to come? I offered.
No. I think they’ll be in there awhile. Will let you know. By the way, Chris swung by the waiting room last night to let me know he’s no longer working for Dad.
Lucky duck, I wrote back.
I grabbed my keys and drove to Fabuland.
Nobody had locked the gates the afternoon or evening before, apparently. I tried to picture what happened after Dad and I left in the ambulance, and Jason followed in his car. Chris hadn’t both
ered to close up. He was probably in shock. Probably went straight back to his wife’s side, and good for him for that. Nobody else considered themselves part of management. Nobody else really cared. Winnie and her friends probably took off. Spooked parkgoers probably dissipated quickly, not knowing whom to ask for their money back. I wondered if the second musical act my dad had hired had attempted to play a few songs, in spite of everything.
When I reached the center of the park, the giant doughnut was about mostly intact. Armfuls and mouthfuls had been taken off the sides, and some off the top. There were gobs of sprinkled frosting on a couple of bleacher seats. An overturned bucket lay beneath the Starship 360.
As I approached the doughnut, I saw a squirrel run away, escaping over the fence behind the bleachers. I was glad someone was enjoying it, for all my father’s efforts. I hoped the trees behind the fence were full of fat squirrels on sugar highs.
I’ll bet there’s not a single kid here today who’s going to forget the day they saw a huge doughnut….
If nothing else, my father was probably right about that one.
I pulled off a chunk of the doughnut and took a bite. It was stale, of course, but I was hungry. Then I went to my dad’s office and found some paper and a Sharpie to make a sign for each entrance:
CLOSED DUE TO FAMILY EMERGENCY
Before I drove out of the park, I put the same thing up on Dad’s LED sign.
I wondered how long the signs would stay that way. I had a feeling someone else besides me would end up taking them down. Maybe someone I didn’t know and never would. That wasn’t such a tragic thought. Now that I’d seen Fabuland upside down and sideways, there might not be much else for me to see here.
In the meantime, there was a place I would much rather be.
THIRTY-FIVE
Morgan opened her front door.
“Hi,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Morgan appraised me with sad but knowing eyes.
All the Pretty Things Page 26