3. Sawyer
Sawyer
Knox still hasn’t said a word to me. He’s barely even looked in my direction since that first glance. It’s fine. Not like I have much to say to him either.
Once we’re through the gates, wristbands secure and the whole day ahead of us, my shoulders soften noticeably. I didn’t even realize how tense they were.
I breathe in the distinct smells of Wonder World, letting myself relax further.
Coconut-scented sunscreen and churros and hot pavement.
Burned sugar from the candy apple stand mixed with chlorine from the water park next door.
It’s the same smells from my childhood. If I close my eyes, I can envision clutching my father’s hand while Knox and Owen race ahead to see who can reach the rides first.
That was back when our families arrived at the same time, lingering at the entrance, our mothers fussing over our sunhats and double knotting our shoes while our fathers did their best job at riling us up.
I used to think they enjoyed the park more than we did.
Maybe one day, if they’re ever in the same room together again, I’ll have the opportunity to ask them.
“You okay?” Ella asks.
I nod, even though I’m not sure how I feel. Nostalgia is hitting me like a ton of bricks. “Just thinking about the last time I was here.”
“Oh, has it been a long time?”
“Four years,” I say quietly.
The summer before everything fell apart.
“You must be excited to be back. I haven’t been here since I was twelve.” Ella stands so close to me I catch a whiff of her perfume. It’s so strongly floral, my first thought is that she’ll be a bee magnet all day.
“I doubt it’s changed much,” I tell her, even though I don’t know if that’s true. Maybe everything’s changed and I just can’t see it yet. Although when it comes to Wonder World’s budget, that’s doubtful.
I look ahead at Owen and Knox side by side and take in their differences.
Owen with his longer limbs and lean muscles, just a tiny bit taller than his brother.
A fact he’s never let Knox forget. He’s always carried himself like the world is a place that was made for him.
So easy and comfortable in his own skin.
Knox is built differently. Broader through the shoulders and more constrained somehow—taking up exactly the space he means to and not an inch more. While Owen moves through a crowd like he belongs in it, turning heads without trying, Knox cuts through it. People just get out of his way.
They have the same dark hair, same bone structure, same skin tone—you can tell they’re brothers if you see them side by side.
But everything else is a study in opposites.
Owen wears his emotions right on the surface, where anyone can reach them.
Knox keeps his hidden away, letting no one else find them.
Owen has never once made me work to know what he’s thinking. Sometimes I wonder if that’s a good thing.
I almost walk right into Owen, who’s stopped to pull up the park app on his phone. How he doesn’t have the layout of this place permanently marked on his brain, I’ll never know. “Okay, so if we hit the Tilt-O-Whirl first, we can probably get on in a few minutes. Then we loop back around to—”
“I need coffee,” Knox interrupts.
“You haven’t had coffee yet?” Owen asks, his eyes just as wide as mine. “No wonder you’re being extra dickish.”
“Some of us didn’t have time for a leisurely morning.” Knox’s eyes finally flick to me, just for a second, and I feel them as physically as a punch to the chest. There’s an accusation in his gaze, a look that says he knows exactly why we’re late.
My face is flaming as I turn away.
“Coffee it is,” Owen announces, completely missing the tension between us. “The stand is right around the corner, if I remember correctly.”
He takes hold of my hand and pulls me along, his excitement infectious.
We move through the entry plaza, crossing under the massive twisted metal arches painted in primary colors with their iconic sign front and center.
Two W’s on either side of their clown mascot, Giggles.
I never liked that thing’s spiraling eyes or too wide grin, and he’s everywhere…
on trash cans, on banners hanging every few feet, on the side of funnel cake stands and water fountains and balloon kiosks.
“There’s your friend,” Owen teases, pointing to a character actor dressed as Giggles, waving at families passing by.
“I hate clowns,” Ella chimes in.
Owen chuckles. “Yeah, Sunny here had nightmares about Giggles until she was in middle school. Or was it high school?”
I glare at him, but can’t keep a straight face, not while he’s looking at me with that dumb, smirk. “Middle school. But to be fair, Knox didn’t help it when he hung that poster on my bedroom ceiling while I was asleep. I woke up to those dead eyes staring at me.”
Owen laughs and Ella shoulder bumps Knox. “Oh my God, that’s so mean, babe!”
His only reaction is an indifferent shrug.
Owen pretends to drag me toward Giggles, crooning that we should really get in line for a picture. I smack his arm and in not so many words tell him he’ll be dead to me for the next month and he relents.
Iced coffee and muffins in hand, we make our way toward the central area of the park.
The area is already overrun with families wearing matching t-shirts, gaggles of teenagers, and couples holding hands.
The energy is just like I remember, and the noise…
it’s a lot. There’s laughter and screaming from the nearby coasters, outdated pop music blaring from hidden speakers, and the clunky whir of rides in motion like a background soundtrack to it all.
It’s sensory overload. Every direction I turn, there’s something grabbing my attention.
Between the massive circus animal fountain in the center of the courtyard spraying water in timed patterns while children toss pennies into its depths, or the game booths lined up along the main pathway and their attendants hollering at every passerby.
And of course, there’s the towering silhouette of their newest coaster, Velocity, in the distance.
That beast makes my stomach drop just looking at it.
“God, I forgot how intense this place is,” Ella says, clutching her coffee with a death grip as a group of teenagers almost runs her over.
Knox moves ahead of us, cleaving through the crowd like he’s on some kind of mission. He doesn’t wait to see if we’re following…just assumes we will.
There’s so many choice words I could call him. But I keep them all inside, repeating Owen’s mantra to myself. It’ll be a good day.
Owen falls into step beside him, talking about ride schedules with a mouth full of muffin, while Ella loops her arm through mine. I stiffen at first, but force myself to relax.
“Is it weird?” she asks quietly. “Being back here?”
I watch Knox’s shoulders, the rigid set of his spine. “Yeah,” I admit. “It’s weird.”
It’s weird being in the place where we used to be happy. Where Knox used to dare me onto rides and Owen used to win me stuffed animals and our parents used to pack lunches we’d eat on the benches overlooking the lake.
Where everything used to be simple.
“I don’t know all the details,” she says. “But I know it’s been…strained.”
If she’s fishing for information, she won’t catch any from me. I shrug and give her a small, “It’s fine,” in response, and thankfully she drops it.
We end up at the Tilt-O-Whirl because Owen insists it’s tradition.
“We always ride this one first,” he says, adjusting his hat backwards as he rushes to the entrance. “Remember how Dad used to make us ride it to ‘warm up our stomachs?’”
Knox groans. “I might sit this one out.”
I find myself staring at him, and when he meets my gaze, the words slip out. “What’s wrong? Too scared you’ll barf?”
Wow, Sawyer. Childish much?
I can just picture his eyes narrowing behind his glasses but the only sign of his annoyance is a slight jaw tic. Instead of taking my bait, he shakes his head and follows Owen into line.
“Loving the back and forth with you two,” Ella says so only I can hear. “I can feel the sibling love.”
Her tone is amused but at the mention of Knox being my brother, I hold in a scowl.
“He started it,” I mutter, knowing I’m full of shit. The only thing he’s done is ignore my existence and I guess that’s making me want to get a rise out of him even more. It’s better than me anxiously trying to pretend he’s not here. I guess?
The line moves quickly since it’s still early and most families hurried to the big coasters first. We shuffle forward past faded safety signs and height markers, breathing in the scent of popcorn from a nearby cart.
I forgot all about this tradition until Owen brought it up, but now that I’m in line, I can just picture Richard parked at the exit with his fancy camera, waiting to catch us stumbling off the ride, dizzy and uncoordinated. He thought it was hilarious and I’ll admit the photos were always gold.
The three of us would fit in one car then, and Knox would always use his body weight to try to spin it harder, making Owen yell at him to stop while I screamed with laughter.
Such a stark difference to the way we file into the cars now. Me and Owen in one, and Knox and Ella in the one directly behind us. Owen adjusts the lap bar just as the bored teenager in a Wonder World visor comes over to double-check with a one second glance.
“Ready?” Owen’s already smiling as he lays his hand over mine on the safety bar.
Not really.
“Always,” I say.
The ride starts with a lurch and the platform begins to rotate slowly, while the individual cars begin their own spinning.
Owen shoots me a devilish look and leans to the side making our car whip around.
A laugh escapes my lips, even if I’m not exactly in the laughing mood. With Owen, it’s too difficult not to.
Behind us, Ella shrieks over the creepy calliope music and Knox says something I can’t make out.
Our car speeds up and the world around me becomes a blur of color. Owen spins us faster, harder, and suddenly I’m eight years old again. The sun is bright and hot, the breeze is whipping my hair across my face, and for the smallest moment, it feels like life is simple again.
Until the ride slows and the cars gradually lose momentum. Reality settles back in like an unwanted guest.
We stumble off. More like I stumble off. Owen, thankfully, grabs my hand to steady me and my jelly legs.
Ella hops down with one hand pressed to her stomach. Her skin is a lovely shade of pea green. “Oh my God. Why did I agree to this?”
“Because it’s tradition.” Owen drops my hand to help steady her since Knox is too busy running a hand through his perfectly messy hair.
“You okay?” I ask, thinking she’s being a tad dramatic, but who am I to talk?
“Yeah, just…give me a second.” She takes deep breaths, fanning her face with her hand, leaning on Owen like she’s helpless.
He doesn’t seem to mind, hand wrapped around her shoulder as he leads her to the nearest bench, leaving Knox and me to follow.
“Come on,” Knox says to her, once we reach them, gruff but with a hint of teasing affection. “You’re not this much of a lightweight.”
“Says the guy who threw up after the Scrambler when we were twelve,” Owen shoots back.
“That was food poisoning.”
“Sure it was.”
I can’t help but smile at their banter. It’s so much like the old days, it makes my chest ache.
We hang out around the bench for longer than necessary while Ella drinks some water. I narrowly avoid a Giggles encounter and my squeal as he passes behind me even makes Knox crack a grin.
“That’s our cue,” I say. Where Giggles goes, I leave.
“We should hit The Twister next,” Owen says, checking his phone again. “Wait time is only forty-five minutes if we go now.”
“Or...” Knox’s voice cuts through, and when I follow his gaze, I see what he’s looking at.
Velocity.
It’s a monstrosity…plain and simple. I’ve only ridden it once before, the last time we were here. It’s newer, not a part of our childhood memories, but I couldn’t turn down a dare from the guys.
I stare at the massive steel structure that towers over every other ride here. The track twists and loops and corkscrews in ways that make me sick to think about, before climbing to a peak that has to be at least two hundred feet and plummeting straight down at a ninety-degree angle.
My muffin churns in my gut.
“Absolutely not,” Ella says immediately, still looking greenish.
“Come on,” Knox says, and it’s the most animated he’s sounded all morning. “It’s the best ride here.”
“It’s also a death trap,” I mutter.
He pulls his sunglasses off and looks directly into my eyes—a full on stare, not just another indifferent glance. “Since when are you scared, Thorne?”
The challenge in his voice is so annoyingly Knox. The same tone he used at the high dive, at the Wonder Coaster when I was too short, at the wedding when we—
Nevermind.
He’s used that damn tone every moment he’s ever dared me to prove myself and I hate it.
Or more like, I hate that it works.
“I’m not scared,” I lie.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Owen comes to my side, taking my hand. “Maybe we should work our way up to it. Hit a few less intense rides first, then—”
“Nah, those are for pussies,” Knox says flatly.
“Not everyone needs to prove they have the biggest dick, Knox,” I snap before I can stop myself.
Surprise flickers across his face. Good. But then he smiles, and I already know I’ve made a mistake. You don’t throw Knox a reaction and walk away easily.
“Good thing I don’t need to prove anything then.” His eyes drag over me, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Some of us already know.”
My face burns and I look away. God, I hate him. But mostly, I hate how after all this time, one look and a few cocky words have me lighting up like a schoolgirl.
“Okay!” Ella cuts in, forcing brightness into her tone. She looks between us like we’re both absurd. She’s not too far off. “How about a compromise? We can do one or two more rides, grab lunch, and then decide about Velocity?”
“That sounds good,” Owen says, nodding, his eyes on his phone again. I swear if he doesn’t stop opening the useless park app his phone will die before lunchtime. “There’s the Big Top Grill. We used to always go there, remember?”
He’s not actually waiting on a response, but I nod anyway.
“They have the good onion rings,” Knox mutters.
“Yeah, and the order is massive,” Owen says. “I’ll put our names in now to save our place.”
“You think they have something light, like salad?” Ella asks Knox, leaning her head against his arm. “Actually maybe a smoothie. My stomach…”
I don’t want to listen in on their conversation or see her hanging all over him, so I turn away, but right before I do, I notice his gaze on me again. I lift my chin, grip Owen’s free hand, and pretend I don’t see a thing.