Chapter 1
Eighteen years ago
I’m twelve years old, and I’m on top of the world.
I sit in an open-air gondola, swinging around the Ferris wheel at the Minnesota State Fair with my best friend, Olivia.
It’s one of those incomparable late-summer nights—warm, with a hint of dew in the air and a gentle fall breeze that tickles your hair.
The meteorologist says there’s a full moon tonight, and from up here, it feels so close I swear I could touch it.
An intoxicating scent of Pronto Pups, spun sugar, and fried dough rises from below.
Our seat creaks back and forth as I watch families and hand-holding couples making their way through the fairgrounds: buying deep-fried Snickers bars, inspecting the latest tractor models, hugging goats at the petting zoo, throwing darts at balloons.
Occasionally, I hear a bell ring from someone winning another overstuffed animal, but for the most part, it’s quiet—peaceful, even.
I wonder if I could sit up here forever.
I glance at Olivia, and I can tell she feels the same way.
Her hazel eyes sparkle as she takes in the explosion of stars in the night sky, and I can’t help staring at her.
She’s everything I’m not but want to be—her black hair shines and curls, unlike my stringy, fried blond locks.
Her skin is a freckle-free brown, while mine is spotted pink.
As she crosses her legs, her perfectly proportioned body moves with grace and agility, a sharp contrast to my lanky clumsiness.
Sometimes I wonder why she’s even friends with me.
The gondola swings through the bottom of its arc—our seventh spin around the wheel.
Hordes of sunburned fairgoers wait to board the ride.
I glimpse Olivia’s dad, Eric Parker, sporting a pink polo and driving moccasins, nibbling on a chocolate-chip waffle cone, talking to my mother.
We breeze past him, and I take a moment to admire his toned arms and elm-green irises.
He laughs at something my mom says, his eyes crinkling, dimples dancing.
He’s the dad you see on TV shows—perfectly tanned, perpetually relaxed, the world orbiting around his effortless charm. Something stirs within me.
Olivia catches me staring and smacks my arm. “Ew, stop looking at my dad like that.”
Heat floods my face. “What are you talking about?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s so obvious you have a crush on him.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yuh-huh.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever, whatever.”
She shoots me a knowing squint but mercifully lets it drop. As we fly back up into the night sky, her lips break into a huge grin, and she wraps an arm around me and squeezes. I catch a whiff of her coconut conditioner.
“It’s nice up here, huh?” she says.
I tap my head against hers and sigh. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
The Ferris wheel groans beneath us.
I flinch, clutching the safety bar with taloned hands and glancing at the fairgoers below—tiny as ants—which only worsens my phobia.
“OMG,” says Olivia. “It’s just the wheel turning.” She places a hand on my back. “Relax.”
I force a smile and lean into the seat. “Sorry, the noise surprised me. I—I really do like it up here.”
She sits silently for a minute, giving me a chance to settle back in, then taps my knee and points to the glowing moon. “See, CharBar, I told you there was nothing to be afraid of. Aren’t you glad I made you do this?”
I blush. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Heights just freak me out a little.”
“A little? I thought you were going to bail on me. I was ready to ride this thing by myself.”
“Whatever, I’m fine.”
She cocks her head. “Oh, so you’re saying you weren’t scared at all?”
I throw her a defiant smile. “Nope.”
“Ha, you are such a liar.”
Before I can respond, she slides her legs from under the safety bar and stands on the cracked brown leather cushion. The gondola wobbles beneath her feet, the hinges screeching.
I press myself against the back of the seat, eyes wide in disbelief at what I’m seeing. My chest tightens, and the muscles in my legs and arms cinch. “Olivia, what are you doing?”
She ignores me and stands taller, spreading her arms out like she’s flying—her weight forward, face cutting the wind like a carving on the prow of a ship, proud and invincible.
But she’s not invincible. I know better. This isn’t one of those newer, glass-enclosed gondolas. One shift, one wrong move, and she’s gone.
“Olivia, sit down,” I say, my voice cracking.
She closes her eyes for a breath, basking in the danger as we rise higher into the night sky and the supermoon closes in.
A gust of wind kicks up, and she shifts her hips to find her center.
I want to reach for her leg and grab her, but I’m afraid I’ll knock her off-balance.
My palms sweat as I search for an emergency brake or switch I could pull to make this horrible machine stop.
She spots my terror and winks, spreading her arms wider. “I want you to admit you were scared and wouldn’t have gotten on this ride if it weren’t for your pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia.”
I search the fairgrounds for help, but no one notices. My fingers clutch the seat cushion, knuckles white, stricken with panic.
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head and steps onto the edge of the gondola.
The realization hits me: She’s going to balance on it.
The sounds of the fair fade to a low hum.
An impish grin crosses her face. “I don’t want you to say sorry. I want you to admit you wouldn’t have gotten on this ride if it weren’t for your pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia.”
Everything inside me tells me to grab her. Just lean over and grab her by the waist, pull her toward you, and don’t let go.
But I can’t. I’m paralyzed.
My nails dig into the seat cushion. “Olivia, please come down.”
Her smile grows so wide that it takes up half her face, a sea of ivory.
The Ferris wheel squeals beneath her. She wags her dainty finger at me and places her other foot on the edge, arms spread like a gymnast on a balance beam.
The ride is reaching its apex now, and as mortified as I am, I can’t help but be struck by the beauty of what I’m seeing—this girl dressed in white, lit like an angel by the Ferris wheel bulbs below, framed by a glittering night sky.
It takes my breath away.
A spark of jealousy runs through me, watching how effortlessly she performs feats I couldn’t even dream of. I wish we could trade places for just one day.
The shriek of the wheel snaps me back to reality, to the fact that my best friend stands on the precipice of death. “I’m sorry!” I scream.
“Not good enough. You have to say, ‘pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia,’” she says, raising one foot and lifting it to her hand like a ballerina. She pauses. “Or I could tell my dad you have a crush on him…”
I frantically scan the ground for help. My dad and the Parkers chat away, oblivious, but a few spectators notice. A woman screams. My mom looks up now, her jaw on the ground, but she does nothing, like me, frozen by what she’s seeing.
I turn back to her and clasp my hands together. I’ve been holding my breath for so long I can barely speak. “Okay, I wouldn’t have gotten on this ride if it weren’t for my pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia.”
She cocks her head, measuring my sincerity, waits a beat, then drops her raised leg, puts her foot back down on the edge of the gondola, and laughs. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
I release a breath and run my hand through my hair.
She begins to step down as the wheel reaches its apex and rotates back toward the earth. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was—”
The wheel shifts; her weight wavers. Her grin vanishes.
My mouth drops open, and my breathing stops.
Her arms pinwheel.
She reaches for me.
I reach for her, but my limbs won’t move. I’m frozen, as though outside my body.
All I can do is watch.
Watch as her arms flail, and then…darkness.
A gap in the film.
The next thing I remember is the flicker of ambulance lights.