by Shari Arnold
Hanging on the wall in front of me is a long sword with a golden hilt. Fake rubies and emeralds speckle the bottom of the hilt leading me to believe that this sword is meant for a pirate, not a knight. No knight would flaunt such a gaudy weapon. Carefully I slip the sword off the wall to test its weight. It’s lighter than it looks.
“I saw something near the back that would be perfect with that,” a blonde princess tells me. She smiles and gestures for me to follow her. From behind I notice her hair is multicolored, at least until she tucks her dark braid up and under her long, blonde wig.
Yes, I will definitely have to remember this place so that I can bring Jilly here some day. She could spend hours playing dress-up, conjuring a story for each style of costume. What an adventure she’d have here.
The princess leads me to a back corner where one lonely rack of clothing has been pushed to the side.
“Here,” she says, pulling out an outfit that perfectly complements the sword. “I think it would look great on you,” she adds and then she flits away with a light rustle of silk.
I stare down at the costume, taking in the black pants that might just fit me, and the flouncy green shirt that would match Meyer’s eyes perfectly. But it’s the pirate hat, strapped to the hanger that captures my attention. It’s gold and silver and littered with jewels, something more Captain Hook than Livy Cloud.
When I try it on, I’m surprised by how well it fits, jutting out just over my left eye, as if I’m eternally challenging someone. This is it, I think. This is who I want to be tonight. Not a princess, but a rebel — a character that fights and survives, and never depends on others to save her.
I gather up the costume, head into the dressing room, and emerge a pirate.
“You look great!” The princess is back and this time she’s brought her entourage, which includes one prince and three damsels. “Just wait until Meyer sees you!”
And then he’s here, standing in front of me with his sword at his side and his hat held to his chest, as one does when they’ve encountered a lady. The only bit of him out of character is his feet. He’s still wearing his black Chuck Taylor’s.
“What’s this?” he says, his eyes on me. “Do I spy the pirate queen?”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the standing mirror and then tilt this way and that until I’ve seen all of me.
“Why, yes, I do believe it suits you,” Meyer says, sizing me up as if I am his opponent. “The question is, are we united or are we adversaries?” His hand moves to the hilt of his own sword like he senses danger and he’s ready to fight. But his eyes are sparkling.
I tip my hat, and with my best imitation of his strange accent, say, “Let’s see how the night plays out, shall we?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
There are twelve of us now; I counted as we stood at the cash register. One by one we hand the girl behind the counter our credit cards, that is, everyone but Meyer. When it comes time for him to pay he winks at the sales girl who blushes and waves him on by.
We are dressed like it’s Halloween, even though it’s a few weeks away, and we make quite a scene as we walk through the market. A few people call out to us, “Where’s the party?”
Apparently wherever we are tonight.
“Where are we going?” I ask Cecily, the blonde princess, once we leave Pike Place Market behind. She introduced herself back at the costume shop while we were waiting in line and then made sure to point out her boyfriend, Will, who is now dressed like Zorro.
“There’s an old amusement park up ahead.” She grabs my hand and drags us to the front of our crowd where Meyer and Will lead the way.
“Isn’t it closed?” I ask, but she just smiles.
We shuffle on down the street, taking alleys when they present themselves and avoiding the main roads. We are loud in our appearance, but nearly silent in our steps. To look at us, it is as though we are walking through time. Or rather we’ve escaped it. Right now I am not Livy Cloud, nor should I think like her. I am fearless. I am brave. I am a pirate. I am smiling, thoroughly caught up in the moment, when my cell phone rings.
When I pull it out of my pocket all I see is Sheila’s face flashing on the screen. In the screenshot she’s sticking her tongue out at me, her tongue ring proudly displayed.
I should answer it, but I don’t. Instead I text her back: I’m okay. Call you later.
And her response is: Yes you will.
Meyer is only a person or two ahead of me but every once in a while he turns, perhaps making sure I’m still here. When I catch him, he winks at me, and even though it’s just a little thing, this wink, it still manages to trigger a flutter inside my stomach.
“He’s never brought anyone with him before,” Cecily says. “He’s always alone.” She’s watching me closely and I look away before she notices the sudden blush staining my cheeks.
“How do you know him?” I don’t know why I’m whispering — he couldn’t possibly hear me.
“I don’t.” Her half-covered shoulders rise with a shrug. “No one does, really. We just know where he’ll be.”
“What do you mean? I thought maybe you all went to the same school or something.”
“No. I’m not even sure Meyer’s from around here. Sometimes he disappears for weeks on end. We figure he’s gone for good and then he shows up again, out of the blue.”
I open my mouth to ask another question but Will pops up in front of us and grabs Cecily around her waist, causing her to shriek with glee. “Come along, Princess. These streets aren’t safe.” He wraps his cape around her and as they move on up ahead all I hear is giggling.
I continue along with the crowd as we make our way toward the old Seattle Center. My attention strays back to Meyer and it’s as if he senses it. He raises an eyebrow like he knows we were discussing him and he finds my curiosity amusing.
“You’re a mystery,” I mumble under my breath, and he tips his hat, his smile spreading.
The old amusement park is in a part of town that used to be alive with activity — when the nearest pier was in its heyday — but now it stands forgotten. The old factories that border it are boarded up and even though they hold the promise of one day becoming renovated and artsy, tonight they are simply abandoned.
There’s a large fence around the park and the chain that keeps it closed off is rusty, but solid. A few of Meyer’s friends try to climb the fence and then give up when it buckles under their weight.
“How do we get in?” a green fairy asks. She’s rubbing her arms to keep warm and her teeth are chattering. At any moment I expect to see her shiver herself into a pile of pixie dust.
“How did we get in last time, Meyer?” Will asks, looking around as if he’s lost something. “Meyer?” He glances over at me. “Where is he?”
This is a good question, one I don’t have an answer for, and soon we’re all looking around. But Meyer is nowhere to be found.
Suddenly the amusement park comes to life with a loud whir. I jump back as if I’m under attack, but the only thing assaulting me is the out-of-tune organ music coming from the broken-down rides. A chill ripples over my skin and for a brief moment I wonder if this park is haunted.
“Over here!” Meyer calls out. He’s standing on top of a large ceramic whale at the entrance to the park. He waves his hat in the air and I notice he’s made a new friend. A night security officer is standing next to him on the ground, his ring of keys a welcoming, if not curious, sight.
“Tom, here, is giving us the run of the place tonight, as long as we’re good.” Meyer takes a moment to study each one of us, and then he calls out, “What say you, my friends. Will we be good?”
A roar of agreement breaks out around me and then we’re running toward the opening in the fence. The guard doesn’t exactly seem happy to see us. He looks confused, as though he knows what he’s doing is wrong but can’t remember why. When I pass him I call out, “thank you!” But he just nods, his eyes locked on the ground.
“Liv
y.” Meyer takes my arm and pulls me into his side. “It’s time for our next adventure,” he says. But I’m pretty sure it has already started.
As we head toward the rides I realize there is something off about this park, something missing. It’s not long before I realize what’s missing is the scent. Amusement parks should be fragranced with cotton candy and fried food, the aroma so strong you’re not sure if it’s the aftermath of riding a rollercoaster that has you dizzy, or if it’s just the sugar high. But here it doesn’t smell sweet; it smells like rusting metal and burning oil, which contributes to the park’s creepy atmosphere. With nearly half the lights shattered or broken, and most of the adornment on the rides faded and corroded from years of wet weather, it’s like something out of a horror movie. It certainly doesn’t help that we’re the only ones here. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting at any moment an evil clown with a half-melted-off smile to pop out from the funhouse holding a scythe.
“Do you do this a lot?” I ask. “Break into old amusement parks while dressed in costume?” When Meyer doesn’t answer I add, “I mean, it’s cool and all. Just different.”
“But we’re not in costume,” he scoffs, “we’re in character.” He grabs my hand and leads me toward the largest ride in the park: the Ferris wheel.
“Your ship awaits,” he says, gesturing grandly to the spinning ride towering over us.
“You want me to ride that?” I stare up at the rickety ride, surprised it’s even working. Of all the rides in the park, this one appears to be the oldest and most neglected.
When Meyer nudges me forward I say, “You first.”
“As you wish, my lady.” With a low bow he steps into the nearest bucket seat.
“Who’s going to operate the ride?” I ask, stalling for more time.
“Why, Tom, of course.” Meyer is leaning back against the seat, his arms folded behind his head like he’s resting on a couch not a broken-down death machine. He nods toward the control box and I see Tom hovering over the controls.
“Are you sure this is safe?” I ask Tom, and he shrugs.
“They haven’t torn it down yet,” Tom tells me.
“Well that makes me feel better,” I mutter to myself.
“Come on, Livy. What are you afraid of?”
“Everything,” I answer instinctively, and even though it’s said under my breath, I’m pretty sure he hears me.
“I told you, there’s nothing to fear. You’re safe with me.” He’s leaning forward now as he waits for me to make up my mind. “It’s all part of the adventure.”
Ah, yes. The adventure. That’s what this is. How could I forget? This isn’t everyday life where I spend my hours watching the people I care about die, or that large part of my day-to-day routine where my parents are so caught up in their own worlds they don’t notice I’m still around. This is my adventure, the one where I get to pretend I’m okay with how things are, at least for a little while.
“Alright,” I say, hopping into the bucket seat. “Let’s do this.” The smile on Meyer’s face tells me I’ve made the right decision.
Before I sit down I remove my sword and pirate hat and place them near my feet next to Meyer’s sword.
“How do pirates sit with those things attached to their hips?” I mumble. Walking with one was difficult enough.
Once I’m seated I try not to notice how the chair tips slightly to the left and how my seat strap doesn’t click into place. After fumbling with it for another minute or so Meyer reaches over and ties the two straps together into a knot, securing me to the seat in a rather makeshift way. He’s looking quite satisfied with himself, as if he considers the problem solved, while I, on the other hand, take a deep breath and try not to think about what could happen if this bucket seat spins around and tips us upside-down. Or how without a working seat strap, we really shouldn’t be on this ride at all.
With a loud creak and a jolt the ride starts up. I don’t realize I’ve got hold of Meyer’s hand in a death grip until one by one he peels my fingers back. “I thought you weren’t afraid of heights,” he says.
“I’m not. I guess I’m just afraid of dying.”
Meyer gives me a funny look, one I can’t even begin to decipher, and then he turns away.
“Or perhaps just broken-down Ferris wheels,” I mutter under my breath.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Meyer says gazing out over the park. His feet are crossed and stretched out in front of him. When he leans back I notice he hasn’t even bothered with his seat strap.
“It is beautiful,” I say but my voice is so high-pitched and nervous it comes off as a question.
I take a breath and then another, forcing them to be something they’re not — slow and steady — while Meyer continues to turn lounging into an art form. He’s so relaxed he appears sleepy. Is he doing this just to annoy me? If so, it’s kind of working.
“How do you know these kids?” I ask, gazing out over the park.
“Hmm. I don’t, really.”
We’re both watching as a small group of princes stage an impromptu sword fight on one of the old stages. You can hear their voices rise each time one of them lunges at another.
“If you don’t know them, how did you hook up with them?” I ask.
“I guess you could say, they found me.”
“What do you mean they found you?” I snort. “Were you lost?”
Meyer tips his pirate hat forward as if he’s looking to take a nap and crosses his arms. “You sure do ask a lot of questions.”
We’re nearing the top of the Ferris wheel now, and spread out below us is a full view of the park. I can make out Cecily and Will swirling around on the carousel, while three longhaired princesses attempt to ride sidesaddle behind them. Over on the swings the green fairy is kicking her feet, her arm reaching out to the blue and gold princess beside her as they sway back and forth, occasionally grasping hands. When the ride starts up the green fairy shrieks with joy and I watch as her wings fly out behind her. There is a prince and a princess running just below us. Their hands tie them together as they hurry to the next ride. They come to a sudden stop and the prince spins the princess in an elaborate circle that makes her dress spin out around her.
“Unbelievable,” I whisper. It’s like a living fairytale, like The Twelve Dancing Princesses, but instead of gold-and silver-tipped trees our paths are littered with neon lit carnival rides and old, broken-down food carts. And instead of going dancing we’re breaking and entering.
“I’m glad you came, Livy.”
I glance over at Meyer and find he’s watching me. His hat is still low over his forehead but he’s cocked it so that he can spy me with one very green eye.
“I’m glad too,” I say and then realize I’m not nervous anymore. My stomach isn’t filled with knots and I’m actually leaning forward in my seat.
“I knew you had it in you.” He tilts his hat back down as if he’s done talking, but the smile remains on his lips.
“How did you know?” I ask. “When I didn’t.”
Meyer’s mouth turns down into a frown. It’s the only sign he’s even heard me.
“You’re really sticking with this whole mysterious thing aren’t you?”
Much to my annoyance, Meyer simply shrugs.
“Well, thank you,” I whisper. “Even if I never find out anything more about you, I really needed this.” I’m staring out toward the Seattle skyline, not expecting a reply, but he gives me one anyway.
“You’re welcome, Livy.”
We’re almost halfway down when our ride comes to a jerky stop. I remember this part of the ride from past carnivals, where one by one the riders get off while others climb on. But we’re the only ones who appear to be brave enough to ride this thing. Down below I can make out an empty platform and when I look back toward the swings I see Tom still manning the controls.
In other words, there’s no reason for us to have stopped.
“Meyer?” I squeak out. But he’s alr
eady sitting up. He leans over the side to get a good look down and the chair tips forward. “Please! Don’t do that.” My eyes are squeezed shut and I’m leaning so far back in my seat I’m nearly arching.
“I think the ride has stopped,” he says.
“You caught on to that, did you?” Without opening my eyes I know when he’s returned to his seat, mostly because the chair stops swaying.
“Livy.” Meyer touches my face and I open one eye. “Do you trust me?” These are the last words I want to hear. Had he said we’re all going to die I think I would have handled it better, but do you trust me can only mean he wants me to do something I don’t want to do.
“We’re not that far off the ground,” he explains.
But he’s wrong. We’re at least three stories high.
“And Tom won’t be able to hear us all the way over there.” He points back toward the swings where it appears Tom has decided to take a nap. He’s slumped over the controls while the swings continue to spin around and around. “What say we climb down?”
My eyes widen at his suggestion and I shake my head. “What say we don’t,” I hiss. “What say we stay up here until someone saves us or the cops come or… Yes! I can call the police!” I pull my phone out of my pocket but my hands are shaking so badly it slips through my fingers and clatters to the floor. “NO!” I scream as it takes a sharp bounce off the side of the seat and plummets to the ground as if in slow motion. “No,” I say again, my voice soft with defeat this time.
“It’s okay, Livy.” Meyer takes hold of my hands. He keeps tugging on them to get my attention, but I don’t want to look at him. If I look at him he’s only going to try to get me to follow him over the side.
He squeezes my hands. “I won’t let you fall.” The next thing I know he’s untying the straps holding me in my seat.
