“What was your favorite part?” I ask. “Back when you’d come as a kid?”
“The Wonder Wheel.” She points toward the huge Ferris wheel in the distance, its colorful cars swaying gently in thesummer breeze. “We’d sit at the top and look out at the ocean and pretend we could see all the way to Europe.”
“Me and Maeve used to say China.”
She laughs. “Could you imagine if we ever ran into each other?”
“Actually yeah. You, your sister, and my sister would instantly get along and skip off to go enjoy the park while I stayed behind and scowled.”
“That… doesn’t sound too implausible.”
“So what ride first?” I ask, sweeping my arm toward the various rides in the near distance.
Her brows rise. “Me choosing first? I don’t think so. We’re here to cheeryouup and getyouto enjoy yourself. First pick is yours.”
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t give you an out. We’re going big, stray.” I grab her hand as I take us in the direction of Coney Island’s infamous wooden roller coaster known as the Cyclone.
First built in the 1920s, the coaster looks every bit of its age. The wooden structure creaks as a train of cars zips by above our heads and a chorus of screams go off from the passengers inside.
“Ready?”
Jhene heaves a sigh. “Why didn’t I see this part coming? I got myself into this mess, didn’t I?”
“Afraid so, stray. Come on. We’re sitting right up front.”
Minutes later, we’re strapped into the car and climbing the first hill. Jhene’s gripping the bar keeping her safe and cussing under her breath. She’s taken off her glasses and stored them in one of the lockers at the ride entrance.
I’m beside her, fighting off a grin of amusement but also getting a reality check my damn self. Peering down at the top of the hill is a sobering experience.
We’re at least sixty or seventy feet above ground, momentarily suspended in air.
Then the drop comes.
We plunge down at high speeds as the other riders erupt in screams and Jhene swears more. I start laughing listening to the sailor mouth I wasn’t aware she had.
“Oh fuck!” she screams, curls whipping in the wind. “Oh damn, no… no-no-no! Shit, not again!”
It’s one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a while.
Jhene screaming every cuss word she can think of as we speed across the track and then plunge down the other side.
The ride lasts about two minutes but feels much longer than that. My stomach’s aching by the time we finally stumble off.
“You good?”
“Perfect,” she pants. “Totally fine. Not regretting this decision at all.”
The next coaster’s her pick. She seems to realize this as we leave the Cyclone behind and she resolves herself to making me suffer in payback.
“That one,” she says, pointing. “We’re doing that one next.”
“You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine. I’m great. I’m—” She draws a shaky breath and squares her shoulders. “I’m doing it again. Unlessyou’retoo scared, Killer.”
“I don’t get scared,” I answer plainly. “If anything, that coaster should be afraid of me. Not the other way around.”
She snorts as we head toward the Thunderbolt. “Who are you, Chuck Norris or something? Don’t talk a big game ’til you prove it!”
