Girl Against the Universe

by Paula Stokes

  “I’m good,” I say.

  He slides into the passenger seat and everyone buckles their seat belts. I do a five-second check and then pull away from the curb. I scan left and right as I drive, watching the houses go by, soft pastel stucco blurring into a muted rainbow. Children with their parents frolic on front lawns, dancing in and out of jagged shadows cast by palm trees high above their heads. I brake as I come up on a slow-moving pickup, a chocolate Labrador hanging over the truck bed with its tongue flapping in the breeze.

  “Cute dog.” Penn leans forward for a better look.

  “I want a dog,” Jade says. “But my mom won’t let me have pets. She wouldn’t even let me have a goldfish when I was little.”

  “Sounds like our mom,” Penn says. “She thinks animals are dirty and require too much upkeep.”

  I make a couple more turns and then merge onto the highway. Jordy sits quietly next to me, his thumb swiping at the screen of his phone occasionally, his eyes flicking from the road back to his lap.

  My anxiety builds as we near Belmont Park. By the time I drive through the entrance, my skin is cool and clammy and my heart is beating like a runaway horse. The lot looks like an explosion of confetti, shiny cars and brightly dressed kids everywhere. I pull the car into a spot and shift into park. My eyelids fall shut for a moment, blocking out all the colors and motion. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

  No one is going to die, I remind myself.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Jordy asks. “I know how much you hate amusement parks.”

  Jade sighs. “How can you hate amusement parks? That’s unnatural.”

  “One of those phobia-causing issues from my past was a roller coaster accident,” I tell her. “The car jumped the track at the bottom of a hill. A lot of people got hurt.”

  “Whoa, I take it back,” she says. “And you seriously want to ride the Dipper?”

  No. “Yes.” I nod. “I don’t want you guys to come with me, but maybe you can all hang out close by with your phones just in case.”

  Penn shrugs. “Wherever you need us.”

  “We got your back,” Jade says.

  “I want to ride with you,” Jordy says.

  I shake my head. “I’d rather have you a safe distance away, but ready to help if anything goes wrong.”

  “Let’s get in line and get our wristbands,” Penn says. “Then we can figure out who is doing what.”

  Penn and Jade do their best to keep me away from the roller coaster for the first hour. Maybe they think I need a chance to get acclimated to the park to feel safe, or maybe they think the day is going to be wrecked for everyone after I try to ride it.

  I fall quickly into my normal routine of looking out for possible hazards. In a place like Belmont Park, that is basically a full-time job. Ninety-five percent of the people here are looking at their phones or each other instead of watching where they are going. There are little kids dangling from ropes on the rock climbing wall and park employees threading their way through the crowds at too quick of a speed. Not to mention every carnival ride we pass seems to be corroded with rust. This could not be any worse, I think. And then a man on stilts wobbles into view. I stand corrected.

  “Earth to Maguire?”

  Crap. Apparently Jordy’s been talking to me and I haven’t heard a word he’s said.

  I force myself to look away from Stilt Man, but my eyes fall on a row of darts with shiny metal tips lined up on the counter of a dart-toss game. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “I said do you want to play something?”

  “Nah, but you guys can.”

  Jordy does a quick lap of the midway to check out the possibilities and stops in front of a basketball game called Fantastic Free Throw. The contestant has to make three baskets in a row to win, but the hoops are smaller than regulation size and higher than for a normal free throw.

  “This isn’t going to end well.” Penn shakes her head.

  Jordy makes two but then misses the third. He tries again and only makes one. “You suck, bro,” Penn says. “Give it up.”

  He grabs her and puts her in a headlock. “Why are you so mean?”

  She twists her way out of his grasp. “Because it’s fun.”

  “One more try,” Jordy says. This time all three of his shots miss the mark.

  “Come on,” Jade says. “Maguire doesn’t want you to win her any crap anyway.”

  “My dad would be so embarrassed by my performance.” Jordy scans the game booths again. “I suppose a game involving tennis is too much to hope for?”

  “You are such a one-trick pony,” Penn teases. “Let me school you on this.” She hands over some cash and takes the set of three basketballs from the attendant. She hands two of them to Jade. “Hold my balls,” she says with a grin. Then she bends low, bounces the ball once on the ground in front of her, and arches her body toward the basket.

  Swish, nothing but net.

  Jordy’s jaw about hits the concrete. “How did you—”

  “Shh.” She takes the next ball from Jade. “I’m in the zone.” She spins this ball in her fingertips, bends low again, and shoots. This one bounces off the rim and falls in. She cackles, takes aim with the third ball. “She shoots, she scores!” she shouts as the ball swishes through the opening. She turns to Jordy. “That’s how it’s done.”

  “You never cease to amaze me, little sis.”

  “It’s all part of my evil plan to become Dad’s favorite. You know, since you’re Mom’s favorite.”

  “Lucky me,” Jordy says. “All that overbearing maternal attention.”

  Penn furrows her brow as she considers the available prizes. “I think I’ll take the dolphin.”

  “No, not the dolphin!” Jordy cringes. “Maguire hates dolphins.”

  I bite my lip but a smile escapes anyway. “I do not hate dolphins.”

  Penn accepts a giant stuffed dolphin from the attendant and raps her brother on the head with it.

  Jade snatches the dolphin from Penn’s arms and presses its pointed snout against my face. “Why you no like me?” she asks in a high-pitched, squealy voice.

  “You guys are idiots.” I yank the dolphin out of her arms. “Maybe I’ll take this on the roller coaster with me. No big deal if it gets mangled, right?”

  Penn grins. “Are we ready for that action?”

  “I think we should probably save it for last,” I say. “Just in case I freak out.” Or cause a massive equipment failure that injures nineteen people.

  We spend the next hour riding other rides, starting with the bumper cars, an activity that seems safe by amusement park standards. Slowly we make our way through Belmont. I opt out of some of the rides. Fear or not, I’ve never been big on being spun around in a circle until I’m too dizzy to stand up.

  Penn and Jade take a ride on the tilt-a-whirl and Jordy decides to sit it out with me. Turns out he isn’t a big fan of spinning either. I do a five-second check as they wait in line and we stand off to the side, leaning on a wooden railing.

  “I’m glad I came,” he says suddenly.

  I turn toward him and the look in his eyes is so intense that for a moment the background fades. The shouts, the smells, the bright colors all seem muted. It reminds me of the day at Joshua Tree, how when we kissed it was like being sucked into a vortex, just the two of us, while the rest of the world carried on oblivious.

  If only that feeling didn’t scare me so much.

  “I’m glad you did too,” I say.

  The ride starts up and we both turn to watch Penn and Jade get loaded into a car with two other girls who look like eighth or ninth graders. Penn is clutching her stuffed dolphin and each time she and Jade whiz past she holds it out like it wants to kiss me.

  Jordy laughs and I realize how much I’ve missed that sound. I look from him to Penn and Jade as they fly by again and it hits me that even if he and I are never more than friends, making three new friends in a semester is pretty amazing. I’ve gained so much over the pa
st couple of months, and it all started with my therapy challenges. Sure, I’m able to do things now like ride in cars with other people and hopefully I’ll make it on that plane next month, but no matter what happens, working with Daniel has made my life profoundly better.

  The ride slows to a stop. A few minutes later, Penn and Jade wander up to us looking windblown and slightly dizzy. Jade has one arm out for balance. We turn as a group and follow the park’s main path.

  “What’s next?” Penn chirps.

  “Giant Dipper,” I say.

  Jade squeezes my arm. “You sure? We won’t care if you change your mind.”

  Did I mention how awesome my new friends are? “It feels like the thing to do,” I say. “And look, the entrance is right around the corner.”

  Sure enough, the path we’ve taken through the park has led us to the end of the roller coaster’s line.

  The Giant Dipper is one of those wooden and metal monstrosities with a lot of steep hills and sharp curves. One of the cars rockets past us high in the air and metal shrieks on metal. The passengers scream. The last car clatters violently on the tracks.

  My breath hitches and my chest goes tight. I consider changing my mind, but I know if I walk away that I’ll regret it later. No one is going to die. This is the right thing to do. I want to face my fears.

  “So what do you want us to do again?” Jade asks. “Just be at the ready in case anyone . . . gets hurt? Maybe one of us can hang out near the first hill and one of us closer to the end?”

  “I know it sounds a little crazy,” I say.

  Jade winks. “Normal is boring.”

  “It sounds thoughtful to me,” Penn says, “preparing for an accident that isn’t even going to happen, just because you don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

  Jordy nods slowly. “I agree with both of them. But I still want to ride with you. You made the decision to come here on your own, which is all kinds of brave. But that doesn’t mean you should have to sit through the ride alone, or with a stranger next to you.”

  I pause for a moment before answering, remembering Daniel saying I should have someone with me. “All right, fine. You can come.”

  Penn and Jade jog off to take their positions. Jordy and I take our place at the end of the line, which seems to have a thousand people in it, almost all of whom appear blissfully relaxed at the idea of putting their lives into the hands of a nameless fun-park architect and a teen ride operator making minimum wage. Okay, sure, there are a smattering of people fidgeting with nerves and the occasional smaller kid gripping a parent’s hand. But probably no one believes there’s a chance they might die today. And definitely no one is thinking about how their mere presence might kill someone.

  I envy them.

  I look back at the pathway leading through the park, the warm sun beckoning me to safety. My shoulders turn but my feet stay put. A throng of what look like middle school kids gallop into the chute behind us, breathless and unkempt. For a second I see them as ungainly calves, lining up to go one by one to their slaughter.

  “Let’s do this like ten times in a row,” a boy in a backward baseball cap suggests.

  “Ugh,” the girl across from him says. “No way, dude. Not unless you want me to puke all over your shoes.”

  Jordy guides me forward, and now the two of us are essentially trapped in the covered line area. I try not to imagine a fire breaking out, or a masked gunman pulling an assault rifle from a duffel bag and mowing down fifty people. You can’t control the Universe, I tell myself.

  The reality is, all I can control is me.

  And sometimes not even that.

  I blink back tears, dropping my eyes to the ground and struggling to compose myself. Almost instinctively, my hand reaches out to rap the wooden railing three times.

  Jordy rubs my lower back gently, leaning down to rest his chin on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” he says. “It was selfish. I should have accepted that you weren’t ready. I should have still been there for you as a friend.”

  “I’m sorry I left you that night.” One of the tears leaks out. “I’m glad we’re both here now.”

  “Me too,” he says.

  “How are things?” I plaster a smile on my face. “You’re back playing international tournaments, and your sister said something about an agent?”

  “Things are good. Nothing is definite. I just decided it was time to get all the information. That way my parents and I can have a reasonable discussion.”

  “Good for you.”

  He nods as we move forward a few feet. This part of the enclosure is still decorated for Halloween, with tissue paper bats and ghosts hanging from the rafters and a selection of bloody machetes displayed on a pyramid of hay. “Lovely,” I mutter. “Shouldn’t there be turkeys and stuff instead of murder weapons?”

  Jordy cups his hands over my eyes. “I find turkeys almost as creepy. They’ve got that weird red pouch that hangs off their faces. What is that about?”

  “It’s called a wattle.” I peel his hands away from my face. As much as the Halloween décor is freaking me out, it’s worse when I can’t see what’s happening. I do a five-second check. Everything is fine. We’re halfway through the line now. “It’s something boy birds use to attract mates.”

  “Gross. Now I find turkeys even creepier,” Jordy says. I smile. “Anyway, I want to give the pro tour a try,” he continues. “I feel like so much of my life has been in preparation for this moment. I can’t bear the thought of four years of college tacked on to that. I mean, maybe someday I’ll want to go to college, but maybe not.”

  “That makes sense,” I say. “But what if you hit the men’s tour and don’t . . . have success?”

  Jordy shrugs. “Then I either keep trying or give up. I can always work for a club or give lessons. I hear I’m pretty good at that.”

  “You are great at that,” I say. And then, “I envy your ability to be so relaxed about everything.”

  “I love tennis,” Jordy says. “Playing makes me happy. To make money doing something I love so much is living the dream. But if I never hit that point where tennis makes me rich, I’m okay with that. I know my parents have sacrificed a lot in order to make that opportunity a real possibility, but if things don’t come to that, I hope I don’t let them down too badly.”

  “I’m sure they just want you to be happy.”

  “Maybe,” he says. “Underneath all the superficial worries about me having the best equipment and the best schedule and the best draws in every tournament.”

  “And the best hair.” I reach up and tug on one of the blond pieces.

  “Ugh. Sometimes I want to cut it all off just to piss off my mom.” He grins. “Would you still be seen with me if I were bald?”

  I can’t help it. I start giggling at the thought. The harder I try to stop, the more I laugh.

  Jordy pokes me in the ribs. “I’m going to assume you’re having some sort of nervous laugh attack,” he says, “and that the real answer to that question is, ‘Of course, Jordy. The combination of your winning personality and hot body renders your hair insignificant in my attraction to you.’”

  “Stop it.” I blot my eyes on the collar of my shirt. “Okay, you got me. That is exactly what I was thinking.”

  We’re about ten people from the front of the line now. A car pulls into the enclosure and stops with a sharp hiss. Exhilarated passengers raise their safety bars with sharp cranking sounds. My smile fades a little.

  “Almost there,” Jordy says. “How have I been doing with distracting you?”

  “Excellent, actually. It helps to focus on other people’s problems . . . and potential baldness.”

  “You should have seen the look on your face back when those kids got in line behind us. Like a trapped panther. I thought you were going to vault over the railing and make a break for it.”

  “I almost did,” I admit.

  Jordy looks down at me. “I will hold your hand the whole time, if you
let me.”

  “Um . . . I plan on holding the lap bar the whole time.”

  “In that case I will hold your arm.”

  “Deal.”

  “And I won’t even tell you to put your hands up on the final hill.”

  “Good, or I will punch you,” I say.

  “Fair enough.”

  Another car races into the station, and everyone exits to the right.

  “Here we go,” Jordy says. He stands behind me as I step down into the car. Then he slides in next to me.

  All we have to keep us safe is a lap bar shared between the two of us. Jordy pulls it flush, but there’s a bit more of a gap there than I would like. I try to ratchet down the safety bar one more click, but it won’t go.

  “It’s far enough,” he assures me.

  He’s right. Besides, it’s not like I’m worried about my own safety. I crane my neck to see into the car in front of us and then glance over my shoulder to make sure everyone behind us has their lap bars fastened. So far, so good.

  The ride attendant pulls a big lever, and we start moving. The first section of the track is in a dark enclosure. Then we shoot out into the sunlight and I can see the parking lot, and beyond it the beach. As we slowly climb the first big hill, my heart descends into my gut, one clickety-clack at a time. Briefly, I close my eyes, but it’s even scarier when I can’t see what’s happening. I fix my gaze on the gentle lapping of the waves. The welcoming, seemingly innocent water.

  There’s a big sign at the top of the hill that says “DANGER” and warns riders to keep their hands and feet inside the car at all times. I try not to think about everyone else on the ride with us. Flesh-and-blood people who can die so easily. I try not to look down either. If I look down, I know I’ll see what I saw the day of the accident—wood splintering, metal cars bouncing off the ground, people splayed out amidst the wreckage like broken dolls.

  I grip the lap bar until my knuckles blanch white and my joints start to ache.

  We hit the top of the hill.

  For a moment, everything freezes. The roller coaster comes to a complete stop.