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“Never?” Aaron asks. “Really?”
She shakes her head. “We didn’t have the money to go to amusement parks when I was young, and when I was older there wasn’t any time so, yeah, never.”
“That’s awesome,” Brayden exclaims. “Kingda Ka can be your first—it’s gonna blow your mind. And we’ll all go on with you.”
“I don’t know about that, Bray.” She looks to me. “Is it safe? It doesn’t look safe.”
I slide my hand up and down her back. “It’s extremely safe. They inspect these things every day.”
“You have to!” Spencer begs. “I went on last year and I barely made the height cutoff. It’s so fun—pleeeease.”
“Besides”—Aaron grins evilly—“you don’t want us to think you’re chicken, do you?”
Violet glances at each of them.
“You’d really think I’m a chicken if I don’t go on?”
Children are like nature . . . cruel and predictable.
Aaron doesn’t hesitate. “Yep.”
Brayden concurs. “Totally and forever.”
Spencer at least tries to soften the blow.
“Sorry—those are the rules.”
Vi turns to me helplessly. “You have bad kids, Connor.”
I wrap my arm around her waist, tugging her closer.
“Yeah, I know.”
She takes a deep, cleansing breath. And shakes her head like she’s going to regret this—like she already is.
“Okay, I have a rep to protect. I’m in. Let’s go.”
The boys cheer like she scored a touchdown. And I press a soft quick kiss to her tense forehead.
“You’re going to love it.”
And I think she almost believes me—until we’re actually sitting on the roller coaster. Side by side, in the third row, because Aaron called dibs on the single front seat so Brayden and Spencer took the next best thing behind him.
“Connor,” Vi whispers. “I don’t want to freak out the boys, but I have to tell you something.”
I lean toward her as much as the weighted industrial safety harness will let me. “What is it?”
“We’re gonna die.”
I laugh—I can’t help it.
“No, we’re—”
“Yes, we are!” And she’s not whispering anymore. “I’ve never been on a roller coaster and now the breaks are going to fail and I’m going to die on one! It’s gonna be just like the Alanis Morissette song!”
“Hey, man,” the bearded guy in the row behind us grumbles, “you wanna chill her out? She’s killing my buzz.”
“Shut up,” I shoot back. “She’s fine.”
I put my hand on top of Violet’s clenched fists.
“Baby—look at me.”
Her eyes remain firmly closed.
“I can’t.”
And I think she’s praying.
But then we start rolling toward the launch point, and she snatches my hand up—her fingers strangling my circulation like killer vines.
“Hold my hand, Connor. Oh God, please hold my hand and don’t let go.”
“I am,” I keep my voice calm, reassuring, rational. “I’m holding your hand right now.”
But rationality has left the building.
“You’re not doing it right!”
That’s the last thing she gets out before we’re shot forward like a ball out of a cannon—going so high and moving so fast, there’s not even time to scream.
* * *
“I wasn’t that scared.”
Violet leans back on her hands, her long legs stretched out in front of her, as she sits on a patch of grass with the boys, while I stand in line at the gift shop, watching and listening, a few feet away.
Spencer rolls back and forth on the ground—giggling uncontrollably like an insane gerbil.
“You so were!” Brayden laughs. “Look at your face—this is the best picture ever.”
He’s not wrong.
Because the hilarious five-by-ten shot of the five of us taken by the automatic camera as we crested the roller-coaster peak truly is a work of art.
It shows Aaron dangling his tongue out and flashing the peace sign, Brayden with both arms raised above his head, Spencer bright-eyed and smiling almost peacefully, and me gazing over at Violet . . . whose face is frozen in scrunched, openmouthed, unadulterated terror.
I’m going to frame it and put it on the fireplace mantel.
Aaron takes the photo from Brayden and clenches his stomach as a new round of laughter rolls through him.
“It’s so great.”
Violet sticks her tongue out at them, taking their hazing like a champ.
“I was just acting really scared so you guys wouldn’t feel bad if you were scared too.”
“Really?” Brayden asks doubtfully.
“Maybe. It could be true.”
Spencer scrambles to sit up.
“So does that mean you want to go on again? ’Cause I’ll totally going on again.”
Vi’s response is immediate and sincere.
“Absolutely not. At least . . . not today.”
I walk over to them and hold out my hand to Violet, helping her up and passing her the bag from the gift shop.
“You’ve earned it.”
She bites her lip as she peeks inside. Then she tilts her head back and cracks up—pulling out the black T-shirt that says “I Conquered the Ka!” in big, bold letters across the front.
“I love it! Thank you.”
Vi reaches up on her toes and touches her lips to mine.
It’s a clean kiss, no tongue or lip smashing. But there’s no awkwardness, even in front of the boys. It’s not even a conscious thought—the kiss is more of a reflex—something that just comes naturally.
