Page 145 of Mexico Can Choke On It
We finish the bumper cars, and suddenly she’s handing me a golden mystery stick.
“Emergency corn dog!” Petra declares.
I chomp down and nearly sear off my taste buds. “OW—what the hell!”
“Rookie error, rich boy. That meat just took a swim in molten lava.” She snatches it, blows on it, then bathes it in mustard. “Now try.”
My next bite sends me into a food coma of happiness. “I can honestly say this is superior to any meal I have ever consumed.”
A blob of mustard decorates her chin, and before my gentleman’s education can stop me, I lean over and lick it clean.
Petra freezes.
I shrug. “You’re still my favorite flavor.”
Her face flushes. Then she shoves the corn dog in my mouth. “Focus, Casanova. We’ve got more spinning to do.”
The swings ride catapults us into the air. Suspended like kites on chains, we drift in wide, unhurried arcs over the carnival lights. I throw my arms wide, allowing the cool night air to slap my face. Everything transforms into a blur of lights.
I glance over. Petra’s shrieking with glee, her boots kicking like she’s dancing with gravity, and something in my chest splinters.
How does she know exactly what I need when I don’t even know?
She remembered an eight-year-old boy’s disappointment and turned it into magic. She saw through twenty-nine years of careful conditioning to themewho just wanted to be a kid at a carnival, eating junk food and screaming with friends.
She sees me.
Not the man my father engineered.
Me.
For the first time in my life, I wonder.Maybe being myself is enough.
Thirty minutes later, I have powdered sugar in places I didn’t know could get sticky. I’m not accusing Petra of lacing that funnelcake, but I’ve never inhaled anything so fast. Or with such a lack of decorum.
“Were there… narcotics in that?”
“Confectioner’s cocaine,” Petra deadpans, tearing a bite from the edge. “Highly addictive. If I let you get a second one, we’ll have to add ‘vomiting’ to our date itinerary.”
I give the food truck a final, longing glance. “You’re cruel.”
“I’m keeping you alive.”
Apparently, that includes rushing me straight to the next death machine: The Turbo Drop.
I buckle myself into the seat so fast it squeaks. Petra’s gaping as I slam my harness down shamelessly.
“Uh-oh,” she says as she drops beside me. “I think I’ve created an adrenaline junkie.”
The coaster starts its ominous climb skyward, and I fling my arms up like I’m surrendering.
“You know you’re not supposed to do that until the actual drop, right?” Petra snorts.
“I want to be prepared.”
“You’re so fucking adorable, I might die.”
“Please don’t. I’m saving the best ride for last… You.”
