Chapter 17
WHAT IN THE SAM HILL is that kid driving?
Looks like a monster truck,” my dad says, looking out the front window at Jake Mackey’s pickup truck pulling into the driveway.
Good Lord, and he’s still got his gigantic and offensive Confederate flag hanging off the back.
Not that Confederate flags are particularly hard to find around here, but most people don’t have flagpole-sized ones billowing from their mode of transportation.
It looks even bigger than I remember. I absolutely should’ve insisted on just driving myself, but it’s too late now.
“See, I could be going on a date with that guy instead of Ryan,” I say, standing up next to Dad.
“At least he would then have the balls to pick you up himself and shake my hand.”
“Dad, he doesn’t even know you want to meet him. We’d already agreed to just meet there,” I tell him, rolling my eyes.
“Well, I’m sorry that I don’t trust some guy I’ve never met to not break my daughter’s heart.”
“Your dad’s just having trouble letting his little girl go on her first date,” my mom says from behind me.
Then she turns me around and wraps me in a hug.
“But if you want to leave early, just text and I can come get you, and no crazy rides, okay? Just take it easy.” She gently touches my head before letting me go.
It’s been almost two weeks since I woke up in the hospital.
My stitches haven’t quite dissolved yet, but I can tell they’re really close.
“Got it. See you guys tonight,” I say before heading out the door.
“Text me when you get there!” my mom shouts while I barely manage to yank myself up into the backseat of Jake’s truck.
“Hey, bitch,” Savannah greets me as Jake turns around to look at me.
“Hi, my name’s Jake,” he says over a lower lip full of dip.
“Yeah, I know, we’ve been in school together since preschool, Jake,” I reply, squinting at him.
“I told you. She just can’t remember the last two years, dummy,” Savannah says, slapping her hand into his chest.
“Oh, word. Okay. ’Sup, Stevie.”
Something tells me this is going to be a long ride.
“You ready?” Savannah asks, smiling back at me and shimmying her shoulders. I laugh and throw my hands up in the air. I guess so.
“Kind of cute that the only two Chinese kids in Wyatt are dating each other,” Jake says, his blue eyes finding me in the rearview.
“I’m Korean,” I tell him, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Same thing.” He shrugs and then turns his country music up.
Definitely going to be a long ride.
Venturing out to the county fair on opening night is a little bit like being caught in the middle of the Black Friday stampede at Walmart.
Except people aren’t after flat-screen TVs or the newest PlayStation.
They’re just after a shred of excitement, since the fair is pretty much the only novelty that goes on within a thirty-mile radius of Wyatt.
It’s the event of the year, and tonight, everyone and their cousin are here and on the move.
I’ve barely stepped past the chain link fence and already I’ve seen about thirty kids from my high school. Some who are currently attending, and others who just couldn’t escape Wyatt’s gravitational pull.
I guess I fall into that category now too.
“He said he’d meet us by the…,” I start to say, but I turn around to find Savannah and Jake standing in line at the ticket counter with their backs to me, his hand planted firmly around her ass and his lips on hers.
I guess I’ll have to meet Ryan alone. I roll my eyes and leave them behind me, weaving through the rivers of people until I find the Ferris wheel exactly where it always is, right between the Roundup and the Gee Wizz, which actually looks a lot smaller than it used to.
“Hey,” a voice says from behind me as a hand lightly grazes my shoulder. I turn around to find Ryan looking down at me like I’ve just made his day by showing up here, even though he knew I was coming.
“Hi,” I reply, suddenly a little nervous as I tuck my hands into my back pockets.
As I was getting ready tonight, I didn’t feel very nervous, or much of anything.
But now, standing here in front of Ryan, his red apron swapped for faded blue jeans and a plain white pocket T that shows off his tan arms…
my palms are at least feeling a little sweaty, which has to mean I’m feeling something. Right?
“Thanks for coming. Do you want to walk around?” he asks, his smile matching the white of his shirt.
“Uhh…” I consider telling him we should go meet back up with Savannah, but I just don’t know if I want to hang out with Jake all night.
Savannah might be offended that I didn’t text her, but that’s what she gets for dating Jake Mackey.
“Yeah. I still have to buy tickets, though,” I reply, craning my neck to look around for the peeling pink paint of the ticket shacks scattered around the grounds.
“Got it covered.” He holds up a neat stack of what has to be over a hundred tickets, enough for about thirty rides or in my case fifty games, since I’m only a games girl tonight. I hope he doesn’t mind that I won’t be able to ride anything other than maybe a slow spin around the Ferris wheel.
“Holy shit, Ryan,” I say with a laugh.
“I like games,” he says guiltily, and it feels like everything is coming together.
An idea for the perfect place to start pops into my head. It’s a game I’ve always wanted to play but have never been able to. Not until now, because I’m an adult.
“Are you eighteen?” I ask.
“Yeah, why?”
“Have you ever played the ring toss here?”
“We just moved here at the end of last summer.” So that’s why I haven’t seen him before. “I’ve never been here. Why?”
A knowing smirk spreads across my face as I hand the stack of tickets back to him but don’t say anything.
“You’re scaring me. Should I be scared?” he asks, eyeballing me suspiciously.
“Possibly,” I reply, my smile widening as I picture the most ridiculous, most unbelievable game in the history of county fairs.
We walk across the grass, which is destined to become a giant mud pit by the end of the night, and toward the stalls at the far end of the grounds.
“Stevie? Where are we going?” Ryan asks, just as I finally catch a glimpse of the ring toss booth through an opening in the crowd.
“Give me four tickets and your ID,” I tell him, digging my own out of my back pocket. He hands everything to me, following on my heels until I spin around to face him right in front of the booth.
“Ta-da!” I say, as we both take in the glorious weirdness in front of us.
One hundred pocketknives are stuck blade down into a spinning contraption shaped like a giant tiered wedding cake.
People are crowded around it, shoulder to shoulder, tossing red plastic rings out in the hope of landing one around a knife and being lucky enough to take it home.
Screams of celebration ring out all around us as a woman on the other side wins a neon-orange one with a deer head stamped into the plastic.
“Oh my God.” Ryan looks on, eyes wide in utter shock as he steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “How is this legal?” he asks.
I laugh as I turn to the game attendant who’s approaching us.
“We’ll take a full bucket.” I raise my voice so he can hear me, handing him our IDs and the tickets.
He hands them right back to me without even looking.
I glance over and see a guy with a big beard and a beer belly pick his toddler up so that he can throw one.
Maybe I could’ve been playing this game all along.
Savannah and Rory never understood why I was so stuck on playing this one day.
It’s not that I’m particularly obsessed with knives, but come on.
Who wouldn’t want to play this weird-ass game?
The attendant tucks the tickets into his pouch and hands me a bucket filled to the brim with rings. It takes us three full buckets to actually win, but finally one of Ryan’s rings captures a small pocketknife with a wooden handle, stuck into the second tier.
“Oh my God, Ryan! You did it! You got one!” I yell, thrilled.
“WOOOO!” he hollers, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his throat.
“Hell yeah, dude!” I give him a double high five and then we quickly get the attendant’s attention, trying to point out our knife as the poor guy dodges rings being thrown all around him and, I suspect, at him as well.
After he drops the knife into Ryan’s hand, we duck out of the crowd and into an open spot beside the basketball hoops.
“For you,” he says, handing me the knife, the blade tucked safely away in the handle.
“Wow. Every girl’s dream. There’s nothing more romantic than a boy winning you a knife,” I joke, taking it from him. But my cheeks turn red when I realize I’ve just mentioned romance. “Thanks,” I add with a smile, and tuck it into my pocket.
Luckily my mention of romance doesn’t make things weird.
After our first win there’s no stopping us, and we make our way to each of the booths.
Darts, we win a wonky Minion from Despicable Me that looks a little different than I remember from the movie, and Ryan gives it to a little girl playing beside us, which is adorable.
Basketball, neither of us has any luck at.
Then we find our way to the Rope Ladder, four rotating, wobbly ladders hanging over a sloped, inflatable base.
The goal: to hold on for dear life as you climb up to the buzzer at the very top.
“Aww man. I gotta try this,” Ryan says, already pulling ahead of me with excitement. I watch as he hands the attendant ticket after ticket, falling time and time again.