“Come on, Brooklyn. We’ll ride together. Just like real siblings.”
This was no innocent suggestion; I could hear the threat buried within his words. The last thing I wanted in the world was to ruin the magic of the Ferris wheel by riding with Eugene, but I didn’t seem to have a choice.
What Ididhave was a bad, bad feeling about this.
I glowered at him and tried to tug my arm away from his grip, but he was so much bigger, stronger, tougher –you name it– than me. It wasn’t a fair fight; but then, it never was when it came to Eugene.
Before I knew it, all my remainingmy tickets had been ripped from my hands and I was being herded onto a Ferris wheel car with Eugene hovering at my back. The other boys were standing behind us, waiting to board their own car and blocking the exit; any escape attempts would be stopped before I made it two feet.I tried to catch the eye of the man checking our safety bar, but he didn't look in my direction once.
And then it was too late;we were up in the air.
Eugene hooted loudly, victorious, and the boys in the car below answered with cheers of their own. I made myself small, squeezing as far away from him as possible within the tiny compartment.
When we were about halfway up, he started the rocking.
Leaning his body forwardover the bar, then slamming it abruptly against the backrest, Eugene made the whole car swing back and forth dangerously fast. Within seconds I grew dizzy and began trembling in fear; a few times we tilted so sharply I was sure I'd slide right out from under the bar and fall to my death on the hard ground far below us.
I didn't scream, I didn't cry; I refused to give him that much satisfaction.
But I was scared out of my mind, wailing internally at the injustice of this. He'd taken away any and all excitement I'd had when I'd first spotted this awful ride. By the time we finally returned to the ground, I was not only ready to throw up my cotton candy, but had vowed I'd never ride a Ferris wheel again, as long as I lived.
Theboys left me – ticketless, nauseous, and alone – at the base of the ride. They laughed as they sprinted off, high fiving one other and planning which rides they'd go on next. I sat in the dirt and tried very, very hard not to pity myself.
It was there that the boy found me.
“Hey, Bee,”he said, extending one hand down to help me to my feet.
“Hi,”I whispered, my voice small.
“Are you okay?”he asked.
So, he'd seen what Eugene did. I nodded.
“Don't let them get to you. Not on your birthday.”
I looked up into his face, surprised he'd even known it was my special day, and he winked at me. “Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back toward the line for the Ferris wheel. He paused when he felt my resistance.
“Idon't want to go back on there,” I insisted, tugging my hand away.
“That's exactly why you have to, Bee. Haven't you ever heard the phrase, 'get back on the horse that threw you?’” he asked.
I shook my head no, looking at himquestioningly.
“Well, it's the truth. Don't let an idiot like Eugene ruin Ferris wheels for you. I saw your face earlier, when you first got in line… You looked so excited. Weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I did really want to ride, before. But now…” I trailed off.
“It will be different, Bee. I promise. Don't you trust me?”
I thoughtabout it for all of a second. “Of course.”
“Then let's go.”
We waited in line for a short time, and the boy shared some of his tickets with me since Eugene had taken all of mine. I was nervous when we first climbed on board, but soon enough I realized that the boy had been right – itwasdifferent this time.
The only thing the boyhadn'tmentioned was that he was terrified of heights, which I figured out about twenty seconds after we left the ground. He was breathing heavier than usual, and his skin looked pale and clammy with fear.
When the wheel stoppedturning, we were perched at the very top of the park and I could see the whole galaxy lit up like a million tiny frozen fireflies in the night sky. I started to point out constellations to the boy, naming them easily now, after weeks of practice, and even retelling some of their stories out loud.