flick of the wrist. And every single one sails through the air, finding a solid resting place around the neck of a bottle.
“We have a winner!” the employee announces.
I stare at Owen in amazement. I’m not sure what I just witnessed. A miracle? A superhero at work?
“Uh,” I stammer, glancing around at the group of spectators that have gathered to watch. “What just happened?”
Owen barely hears the question. He’s too busy pumping his fist and jumping around, yelling, “Oh yeah! Who’s the man? That’s right, it’s ME!”
Even the carnival employee looks impressed. “Someone’s been practicing.”
This brings Owen’s victory dance to a halt. He stuffs his hands back in his pockets. “Nah. I think it was beginner’s luck.”
“Beginner’s luck?” I repeat dubiously. “Owen, no one does that their first time.”
He shrugs and points to the menagerie of stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling of the booth. “Which one do you want?”
“You won,” I argue. “You should pick.”
He waves this away. “No. You pick.”
“I can’t. You really should do it.”
He points to the big white poodle—the same one I had my sights on yesterday. The employee lowers it and hands it to Owen, who in turn proffers it to me.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Well, I certainly can’t go home with this. Here. Take it. I won it for you.”
My throat prickles and I attempt to swallow as I take the fluffy stuffed dog from him and hug it to my chest. “Thank you. I love it.”
He nods, looking away. “Don’t mention it.”
We start walking again, and Owen clears his throat loudly. “So, what’s next? Bumper cars? Sharing a milk shake? A moonlight kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel?”
I stop walking, my head whipping toward him. I’m relieved when I see the goading grin on his face. “You remember?”
He chuckles. “Of course I remember, Ells. You made me follow that nauseating couple around for hours. I felt like a stalker. What was it you named them? Angie and Dr. Johnson?”
“Annabelle and Dr. Jason Halloway,” I murmur, hiding my smile behind the dog’s flappy ears.
“Riiight. How could I forget Dr. Jason Halloway? It sounds like some guy on a soap opera who disappears and comes back two seasons later after he’s had massive plastic surgery so they could cast a new actor.”
I slap him with the dog. “It does not. It’s a romantic name.”
He snorts. “Sure. To an eleven-year-old.”
“I was ten.”
“Even worse.”
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Ells,” he says solemnly, like he’s about to deliver bad news. “I remember everything.”
She’s Got a Ticket to Ride
9:08 p.m.
I stare up at the spinning wheel of death and feel a jolt of fear shoot through me. “I can’t do it,” I resolve, stepping out of the line.
Owen grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Yes, you can.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I can’t. I’m not ready to die today.”
He laughs. “You won’t die. It’s just like the ropes course, remember?”
I remember. It was how Owen and I met. It was the summer between third and fourth grade. At Camp Awahili. My bunk and Owen’s bunk were signed up to do the ropes course and I refused to participate. I sat on the sidelines and watched as all of my bunk mates climbed a telephone pole that seemed to stretch up to the sky. Then they balanced on the very top of it and leaped to a nearby trapeze swing.
Even though everyone was secured with a harness that the counselor assured me was perfectly safe and tested for quality control every year, I refused to do it.
Why would I purposefully tempt death like that?
The activity period was almost over and I was itching to get to the canteen and drown my sorrows with a large Coke, but then Owen came over and sat with me. He was a stranger then. A skinny, freckle-faced boy with dark hair, crooked teeth, a slightly turned-up nose, and green eyes that squinted when he smiled.
He asked me why I didn’t want to join in. I told him I was terrified of falling.
He laughed at this and I tried not to be offended. “Are you kidding? Falling is the best part!”
I looked at him like he was crazy.
“Seriously!” he defended. “It’s so much fun, because you’ve got this harness on”—he jostled the straps around his chest—“and the bouncy net is under you. It’s like doing a seat drop on a giant trampoline! Sometimes I fall on purpose, just so I can land on that thing.”
“You do?”
He made a pshh sound with