Page 22 of When Stars Collide
Our car lurched forward, jolting me just enough for me to strike my injured knee against the wheel in the middle. I sucked in my breath, trying to will the pain to subside as our car picked up the pace along a track that zig-zagged haphazardly from one end of a set of large circles to the other.
This isn’t so bad. If not for the lack of leg room and the disregard for personal space, it would be almost tolerable.
“This is boring,” the brunette rib assaulter next to me announced.
“That’s because we aren’t spinning the wheel,” the blond know-it-all next to her proclaimed.
So, that’s what that was for.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about the wheel.” Jackson sprung forward, placing his hands along the side of the wheel. “Come on, everyone,” he commanded as though the others needed prompting.
Soon, the wheel in the center of the car was being gripped by a gaggle of small hands, all of whom began turning it counterclockwise. Within seconds, the once stable ride turned until it had completed a full circle.
What fresh hell is this?
“Faster!” the blond sadist proclaimed with such enthusiasm that the others couldn’t help but comply.
In one swift movement, the bear car spun around, forcing my back against the seat and my stomach to sink like a stone.
“Okay, we made it spin,” my voice cracked. “Let’s give the wheel a rest and—”
“Faster!” the little shit with pigtails sitting at the end of the bench seat ordered.
Meaning business this time, all six pairs of chubby hands gripped the wheel and began turning it with speed and dexterity that shouldn’t be possible for children.
Oh, shit.
I braced myself against my seat to circumvent the centrifugal force that would soon be exerted upon my body right as the bear spun around in not one, not two, but three gut-wrenching circles. As hard as I tried to suppress a scream, my vocal cords demanded I be heard; and heard I was, which would have been fine if not for the one-syllable, four-letter word that accompanied the last scream in my series of screams.
“Fuck!”
I knew the second I heard the word coming out of my mouth with my own ears that I had effed up. Time stood still at that very moment, and I swore somewhere off in the distance I heard a record scratch. All the children, every single last one of them, stared at me, eyes wide. Suddenly, those antagonistic heathens appeared angelic, their eyes judging me, looking at me like I had crawled up from the depths of the netherworld.
“That’s a bad word,” the pious girl with the pigtails broke the silence that had filled the car.
“Yes, and I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson here today,”I replied.
“Don’t ride with you?” a dark-haired boy, who’d up until now had chosen to remain silent, spoke up.
“Bingo,” I answered, pointing at him.
Moments later, I breathed a sigh of relief when the ride began to slow down, coming to a complete stop soon thereafter. One by one, the other children exited the ride, leaving Jackson and I to disembark last. I walked to the gate with my tail tucked between my legs. It had been a while since I’d honestly felt ashamed of something that had come out of my mouth. That shame grew by leaps and bounds when I saw Peter. His face was stern, reminding me of the look my father had given me pretty much every day of my life growing up.
“I take it you heard me,” I murmured, hoping that he was just deep in thought, contemplating the meaning of life, and not grossly ashamed of his girlfriend.
“Christ, Mena, I think the entire fair heard you.”
“Can we go on another ride before we leave, Dad? Puh-lease.”
“No, buddy, I think we need to put as much distance between us and this place as humanly possible.”
He grabbed Jackson’s hand and walked with him toward the parking lot.
“Peter, I’m sorry.” I practically jogged after them, my legs barely keeping up with Peter’s strides. “It just slipped out.”
“Yeah, that seems to be a pattern with you.”
Stung by his words, I fell back a few steps, watching him continuing his mission on out of this joint. I wanted to say something in my defense; I wanted to cry. I wanted to make things right again. Above all, I just wanted to quit feeling like I was lower than the dirt path beneath my feet. My pace quickened as I tried to catch up with them, my mind working overtime to find the right thing to say.
