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As the rollercoaster began its ascent to the top, I felt a thrill of excitement well up inside me. From high above, I could see the Mediterranean Sea shimmering in the sunlight as Oliver gripped the safety bar tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“Here we go!” I cried out, raising my hands in the air as the rollercoaster crested the top of its first hill. Oliver, gripping the bar like it was a lifeline, glanced over at me with wide eyes and a pale face.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, sounding more than a little nervous. “Maybe it’s not too late to make it stop.”
“No way!” I replied. “Trust me, you’re going to love it.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
The roller coaster plummeted down, and I laughed with joy, a stark contrast to the screams of terror coming from His Highness. We bounced off each other as the ride twisted and turned, our bodies pressed close together by the forces of gravity. When the coaster finally came to a stop after what must have been twenty loops, I stumbled out of the car, breathless, exhilarated, laughing like a teenager.
“Best roller coaster ever!” Renzo cheered from the first car, his enthusiasm contagious. “And there are still twenty-one more!”
“Let’s do it!” Enzo said, walking with Renzo and Aunt Honey toward the exit of the ride.
I turned back to find Oliver still frozen in his seat, his face a hilarious mix of abject fear and relief.
“Hey!” I called out, extending my hand. “Come on!”
Oliver nodded, accepting my hand. “People call that fun, do they?”
I laughed. “We do.”
After exiting, Renzo, Enzo, and Aunt Honey studied the park map, trying to decide which ride to conquer next. I spotted the photo booth selling snapshots of rollercoaster riders and knew what I had to do next. Mr. Stoic stood off to the side, monitoring our surroundings, as usual.
“Hang on,” I said to Oliver, walking over to the booth and browsing the display board for our picture.
Oliver protested, “That’s unnecessary.”
Ignoring him, I said, “For me, it is. Come on, you appreciate art. I’m sure our photo is a masterpiece.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Oliver said.
There it was—a close-up shot of us mid-plunge, Oliver’s eyes wide, hair askew, and an expression of sheer unadulterated horror on his face.
I burst into laughter. “Where’s your hat?”
Oliver reached up to his head and felt around. “Oh . . . I hadn’t even noticed it came off.” He gestured to the employee’s head. “I’ll give you forty euros for your hat.”
The employee pulled the hat off his head so quickly, I almost missed it. “Sold.”
Oliver paid the guy and slipped the hat on. “Much better.”
“This is gold!” I said, gesturing to the photo. “I’m buying it.”
Oliver tried one last time, “You don’t have to?—”
“Sorry—it’s a must,” I insisted, grinning and paying. “This will immortalize my trip.”
We regrouped with the gang, and Renzo exclaimed, “We’ve discovered the next thrill: Death Drop, the roller coaster to end all roller coasters. Let’s do this!”
Oliver groaned, and his face was still flushed from the wild ride. “Can we ease into it and pace ourselves? How about something less heart-stopping?” He pointed to the log ride. “That looks like a good time.”
Renzo eyed the ride suspiciously. “Isn’t that for kids?”
Deciding to cut Oliver some slack, I chimed in, “Not at all. Plenty of adults love it. Just be ready to get wet.”
Enzo shot a mischievous glance at Aunt Honey. “Well, what are we waiting for? We can do the next rollercoaster after this ride.”
