Chapter 26
OLIVER
“This is the greatest day of my life!” Gerard announces, arms spread wide as if he’s about to embrace the entire fairground. His blond hair catches the neon glow from a nearby booth, turning him into an overgrown cherub.
“You said that about the fifties night,” Elliot points out, trailing behind him in a more subdued manner.
“That was also the greatest day of my life! I can have more than one great day, babe.”
Kyle makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a death rattle. “Why did I agree to this?”
“Because Alex wanted to come,” Drew supplies helpfully, slinging an arm around Jackson’s shoulders. “And you’d walk through fire for Alex.”
“I would not.”
“You brought him chicken noodle soup when he had a cold.”
“He was sick.”
“You made the soup from scratch, Kyle.”
Kyle’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. Alex, walking beside him in a sweater that’s slightly too big for his frame, ducks his head to hide what might be a smile.
I fall into step beside Ryan, my flip-flops slapping the dirt ground, hyperaware of the few inches of space between us.
Ever since the night we watched the stars disappear, fingers tangled together, secrets whispered in the dark—it’s like we’re walking through a field of dry kindling with matches in our pockets.
“You doing okay?” I ask Ryan, keeping my voice low enough that the others won’t overhear.
Ryan glances up at me, his eyes catching the colored lights from the Ferris wheel. For once, the tight line of his shoulders has softened, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a way I haven’t seen since we were kids. “I’m at a county fair surrounded by hockey players. The jury’s still out.”
“That’s fair. Pun intended.”
He smothers his snicker inside a cough. “That was terrible.”
“I know. I’m not sorry.”
We pass a booth where a bored teenager is trying to entice people to throw darts at balloons. Nathan pauses, studying the prizes. “That stuffed penguin is huge.”
“The game’s rigged,” Drew says. “The balloons are under-inflated, and the darts are dull. Classic carnival scam.”
“How do you know so much about carnival scams?”
“I worked at a fair when I was sixteen. Learned all the tricks.” Drew grins, shark-like. “I could beat this game with my eyes closed.”
“Prove it,” Jackson challenges.
What follows is five minutes of Drew systematically destroying the dart booth while the teenage operator watches in growing horror.
By the end, Drew has won not only the giant penguin but also a smaller stuffed elephant for Alex, a foam finger for himself, and what appears to be a ceramic cat with unsettling eyes for Elliot.
“For you,” Drew says, presenting the penguin to Jackson with a flourish.
Jackson clutches it to his chest. “I’m naming him Derek.”
“After Derek Jeter?”
“After my childhood imaginary friend, who was also a penguin.”
“You had an imaginary penguin friend?”
“Don’t judge my childhood coping mechanisms.”
Gerard suddenly grabs my arm with enough force to bruise. “Oliver. Ollie. Captain, my captain. Do you see what I see?”
I follow his gaze to a garish structure about fifty yards away, painted in primary colors and surrounded by a queue of children and their exhausted parents.
“The bumper cars?”
“THE BUMPER CARS!” Gerard drags me toward the attraction, and the others follow, knowing to do otherwise is futile.
The bumper car operator is a middle-aged woman with a dead-eyed stare. She scrutinizes our group as we approach. “How many?” she asks flatly.
“Nine!” Gerard announces.
“The cars fit one person each.”
“Perfect!”
She gestures us through the gate, and we pile onto the platform to claim our vehicles. This is when I realize we have made a terrible mistake.
The bumper cars, designed for children and average-sized adults, are approximately the size of shopping carts. They’re shaped like ladybugs, each one a different color, with tiny steering wheels and seats that were built for people who don’t regularly consume protein shakes.
Gerard stares at the nearest car—a cheerful pink ladybug—with dawning comprehension. “These are small.”
“No shit,” Kyle mutters, eyeing a red one warily.
“We’re doing this,” Drew declares, already folding his six-foot frame into a green ladybug. His knees end up somewhere around his ears. “This is happening.”
I choose a blue ladybug and…fuck. My thighs do not fit. I wedge myself in anyway, causing the car to list slightly.
Beside me, Gerard has somehow crammed his six-five frame into the pink ladybug, and the result is nothing short of magnificent. “I look like I’m in a clown car,” he says happily.
“You look idiotic,” Elliot responds, sliding into a purple ladybug with considerably more grace. Being one of the shortest among us has finally paid off for him.
Kyle’s attempt to enter the red ladybug involves a series of movements that I wish I could record for posterity. “I hate everything,” he announces.
“You’re doing great!” Alex calls from his own ladybug, looking almost comfortable by comparison.
Ryan settles into an orange ladybug near the edge of the arena. Nathan is the only one smart enough to bow out.
The operator flips a switch, and the cars hum to life. What follows is chaos.
Gerard immediately guns his ladybug toward Kyle with a battle cry, his massive frame causing the tiny vehicle to wobble. The impact sends Kyle spinning, his head whipping back as his ladybug careens into the bumper.
“GUNNARSON!”
“ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND BUMPER CARS!”
I try to steer toward Ryan, thinking maybe I can be gentlemanly about this and lightly bump him, then we can share a laugh and—
Drew slams into me from the side. “Surprise, Captain!”
My ladybug spins wildly, and I catch a glimpse of Drew’s maniacal grin before Jackson crashes into him from behind, sending both of them spinning in opposite directions.
“Revenge for the penguin!” Jackson shouts, which makes no sense because Drew literally won him the penguin, but logic has clearly left the building.
Ryan drives around in careful circles, avoiding conflict as much as possible.
Alex has somehow ended up in the center of the arena, getting bumped from all directions while making small sounds of distress.
Kyle is trying to reach him but keeps being intercepted by Gerard, who has decided that Kyle is his primary target.
“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Kyle roars, ramming his ladybug into Gerard’s with enough force to make both vehicles shudder.
“NEVER!”
Elliot, meanwhile, is picking off stragglers one by one. He glides up behind Jackson, bumps him into the wall, then reverses smoothly to catch Drew on the rebound. His expression never switches from mild boredom.
“How are you so good at this?” I demand as he passes me.
“I have a lot of repressed rage.”
I finally manage to navigate my way toward Ryan. His ladybug weaves between collisions, avoiding the worst of the carnage.
“Hi,” I say, pulling up alongside him.
“Hi yourself.”
“Having fun?”
“I’m watching grown men attempt vehicular assault in children’s toys. It’s the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all month.”
Gerard chooses this moment to barrel between us, his ladybug somehow achieving speeds that should not be possible. He clips my bumper, sending me spinning, and I hear Ryan laugh, bright and startled, as he swerves to avoid me.
The sound cracks my chest open a little.
When the buzzer sounds to end our session, we extract ourselves from the ladybugs with varying degrees of difficulty. Kyle requires assistance from Alex.
“That was incredible,” Gerard declares, slightly breathless. “We should do it again.”
“Absolutely not,” Kyle says, limping toward the exit.
“Once was enough,” I agree, rolling my shoulders to work out the kinks. “I think I pulled something.”
“You pulled something getting into a bumper car?” Ryan asks, falling into step beside me as we leave the arena.
“I pulled something being too much man for a bumper car.”
“That’s the worst humble-brag I’ve ever heard.”
“Thank you. I’ve been practicing.”
“What about the Gravitron?” Nathan asks some time later, pointing toward a massive spinning disk of a ride whirling so fast it blurs the people inside into streaks of color.
“Yes!” Gerard pumps his fist. “I’ve always wanted to try that!”
Alex eyes the ride with trepidation. “It’s spinning really, really fast.”
“That’s the point!” Gerard moves toward the queue. “You stand against the wall, and the centrifugal force pins you there!”
“It’s a recipe for vomiting,” Kyle mutters, but he follows anyway because Alex is following Gerard, and Kyle goes wherever Alex goes.
The operator gives us the most perfunctory safety speech I’ve ever heard. “Stand against the wall. Don’t move. Don’t throw up. Have fun.”
We take our positions around the chamber. I end up between Ryan and Gerard, with Drew and Jackson across from us. Kyle has positioned himself next to Alex, one hand already braced protectively on the panel beside him.
The ride spins slowly before quickly picking up speed. The panels tilt backward, and I feel the first press of centrifugal force against my chest.
“This is fine,” Ryan says, though his voice sounds slightly strained.
The world outside the chamber blurs into a wash of light and color through the small windows. The force increases, pressing me harder against the panel until it’s difficult to lift my arms.
“THIS IS AMAZING!” Gerard shouts from beside me, his voice distorted by the spin.
I turn my head—which takes considerable effort—and see Ryan plastered against his panel, eyes wide, and a strange expression on his face that hovers somewhere between terror and exhilaration.
“You okay?” I manage to call out.
“I can’t move my face!”
The ride reaches its peak speed, and for a moment, we’re all pinned like butterflies to a display board. I can see Drew across from me, grinning maniacally. Jackson is trying to lift Derek the penguin and failing. Elliot appears mildly inconvenienced.