Trust the Focus

by Megan Erickson

  The laptop clicked shut, then the bed dipped and Landry’s body thudded onto the mattress beside me. I was too tired to be turned on. Right now, it was me and my best friend. And that made me smile.

  “Jus?”

  “Yeah?”

  Pause. Rustle of blankets. A sharp heel nailed me in the calf, so I grunted.

  “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath. Once he got settled, he continued, “I’m proud of you, Justin. This trip can’t be easy on you, but Charlie would have loved this.”

  I managed to turn my head and crack my eyes open. His irises glowed so blue in the moonlight. “Thanks, Lan.”

  He nodded. “That’s all. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard him whisper. “Tomorrow’s gonna be so great.”

  ***

  May 13

  [Picture]

  As you can see, Mount St. Helens was beautiful. No elk or any cool animals or anything, but we saw a hawk circling overheard, and I walked into a spiderweb. We sprinkled Charlie’s ashes, took a lot of pictures, and stood in silence with our memories.

  Thanks for the comments on our first post. Please share with anyone you think would be inspired by our journey. I’m really proud of Justin. For those who have asked, he’s doing well.

  Our next stop is in Wyoming. We have a drive ahead of us, but I think I convinced Justin to stop at an amusement park for a little fun. Wish us luck and I’ll check in in a couple of days.

  1 Down

  11 To Go

  —L

  Comments

  Mia: Looks beautiful! Good luck!

  Amy: Mia told me to check out this blog. Looks great, Landry!

  Trenton: Don’t be a pussy, Akron. Go to the fucking amusement park.

  Chapter Four

  Landry stood next to a six-foot-tall fiberglass block about double his width. Vertical measurements ran up the side, separated by four blocks—pup, cub, wolf, bear.

  The ugly, cheap gas station sunglasses covered his eyes, but I knew they were twinkling behind the black shades. He held another foot-long Twizzlers, chewing obnoxiously while children sidled up to get measured. The block they measured into let them know which rides they could go on. I thought it was effective. Rather than have the kids get measured at each coaster, the sign at the beginning of the line designated which “animals” the ride was appropriate for.

  Of course Landry couldn’t stop giggling at the animal names.

  “Will you get away from there?” I whisper-shouted in a lull of measuring. “Parents are trying to measure their children.”

  Landry popped his lips out and cocked a hip. “I’m kinda sad. I wanted to be a cub.”

  “Landry!”

  “You’re right, you’re not hairy enough to be a bear.”

  “For God’s sake—”

  “Little gay for Idaho, don’t you think?”

  “Landry, seriously, let’s move or I’m not doing the old-fashioned photos with you.”

  That got him moving, because he’d said in the parking lot that those photos were what he was looking forward to the most, so he could dress like a Wild West gunslinger and ask, “Is that a gun, or are you just happy to see me?”

  I told him I would not respond to that line of questioning. Then he asked me if I was looking forward to squeezing into a corset and I elbowed him in the ribs. I’d show him a badass shooter.

  We filed into line at the first coaster we encountered. It was called the Trailblazer, and the sign proudly announced that it was the first roller coaster built at the amusement park. It was wooden, patched, and sounded rickety as hell.

  A grin permanently stretched my lips and my skin tingled, anticipating the rush of air and the belly-flipping drops, as I reveled in the screams of the current riders.

  Landry was eerily quiet beside me, and when I focused on him, his eyes were wide, brow beaded with sweat.

  “You’re still freaked out about roller coasters?”

  Landry had a weird relationship with the machines. He practically came out of his skin with excitement about amusement parks, eyes sparkling with the thought of throwing his arms in the air and screaming his heart out. But when we were in line, that moment before stepping into the padded seats, he sweated bullets.

  “I’m okay,” he said, biting his lip.

  “I don’t get it. You’re so excited and then turn into a stress ball in line.”

  Landry wiped his brow. “You know the moment the cars reach the top of the hill? And there is that second pause between when the track lets go and the coaster rumbles down the hill?”

  I nodded. My favorite part. That anticipation. As long as you endured the seconds when your stomach rose up in your throat, the euphoria at the bottom of the hill made it all worthwhile.

  He took a deep breath. “That pause freaks me out. I think, what if we go backward? Slide right down the way we came? And all that anticipation, that racing heartbeat as the cars climb . . . was all for nothing?”

  I frowned. “That wouldn’t happen, Lan. I mean, these things are built tough. Once you’re up, you don’t go back—”

  “But what if it did?” He was close to me now, having taken a step forward sometime in this conversation. His breath coasted over my face, warm and cinnamony from the fresh roasted peanuts we’d snagged that were currently warming my pocket. And I got the feeling we weren’t talking about roller coasters anymore.

  His wide blue eyes were locked on mine, darting back and forth, his lips parted and his body silently surging forward into mine, like he was egging me on to do something, say something.

  But I didn’t, like the coward I was. And then he leaned back, his face softened, and he laughed, waving a hand in the air.

  The moment was over.

  “Never mind, Jus. It’s cool. I just need to get this first ride over with and I’ll be fine.”

  I dropped the subject, hating myself but covering it with a laugh. Minutes later, we stepped onto the metal platform, sank into our seats, and pulled down the padded lap bar. Landry smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. The attendant ran swiftly down the line, making sure all the riders were locked in, and then we were off with a loud clang and a jerky start.

  I squirmed when we creaked up the hills and screamed as we careened down them. I laughed at Landry’s “Oh fucks!” and did some swearing of my own on a wicked curve.

  When we slammed to a stop at the end, Landry’s curls were all over the place, his eyes watery from the wind. His cheeks were flushed red and his lips bite-swollen.

  “Fun?” I asked as we stepped out of our seats, my voice hoarse from yelling.

  Landry’s smile was huge. “We didn’t go backward, so hell yeah.”

  “Let’s go on the Scrambler, puke our guts out, then eat lunch.”

  “Then pictures with guns.”

  “Christ. Fine, Landry.”

  He smiled, way too satisfied with himself. I didn’t tell him I’d shoot my own arm off to see that smile.

  ***

  We ate hot dogs and fries. I held the basket of fries under the ketchup pump and shot a glance at Landry, and he didn’t even flinch because he knew I wouldn’t actually do it. So my joke fell flat since all he did was roll his eyes.

  Then we ate deep-fried Snickers bars. Landry gobbled up a whole one, but I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. The first bite was heaven but then it all became too much, like how the first bite of a Pixy Stix is good. Then you get halfway through and realize you’re just eating sugar and it’s not so fun or tasty anymore.

  I gave the rest to Landry. So he upgraded to Landry 2.0 because of his sugar high. He bounced around, dragging me to the carnival-type games and squealed—yep, pretty much squealed—when he found the baseball game. I loved seeing him this happy and I vowed to do anythin
g to keep him this way.

  I plunked down ten dollars for five balls and eyed the six bottles I had to knock down. The ball in my hand wasn’t a regulation-size baseball and the weight was off as I juggled it. I felt stupid standing there in an amusement park going through my serious windup, so I kind of half-assed a couple of throws. And missed.

  “That’s not your windup. Come on, Jus, quit phoning it in.”

  I turned and glared at him.

  He crossed his arms over his chest.

  So this time I did the whole thing, lifting my leg, pivoting, and arching my back so my shoulder slung my arm forward and the fisted ball with it.

  Clatter.

  Whomp.

  Six bottles went down. The ball hit canvas along the back of the stand.

  I couldn’t help it. I turned to Landry and smirked. He returned it like a smart-ass and smiled at the game attendant. He pointed to the back corner of the stand. “I want the horse.”

  The attendant raised her eyebrows at him, then used a pole with a hook on the end to lower a brown-and-white spotted horse.

  “Why’d you get the horse?” I asked as we walked away, the horse firmly tucked under Landry’s arm.

  He tilted his head at me, a small smile curling his lips. “Now Sally has a Mustang.”

  And then later, when we took our old-fashioned photos, Landry insisted the stuffed horse be in one shot. It ended up being my favorite.

  ***

  Landry pointed to the water pistols attraction. “I wanna do that.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Why not?”

  I looked up at the overcast sky and then stared at the chaos that lay before us, the sadistic laughter of children ringing out over the wet bodies covering the play area like debris.

  “It’s the only water thing open,” he protested.

  “Yeah, because it’s cold. And in no way does this look fun.”

  The object of the game was to complete the obstacle course while kids manning huge water cannons tried to blast us with fire-hose intensity water streams. Okay, so not as bad as a fire hose, but I wasn’t so certain I wouldn’t leave without some bruises.

  “Those kids look drunk with power.”

  “Come on, Jus. Just one time. It looks fun and I want to cool off. It’s actually kind of hot.”

  My silence was my acquiescence, and Lan’s face lit up.

  There was a small locker area nearby, so we took off our shoes and shirts, storing them in the locker with our personal stuff and, of course, the fucking horse.

  Landry walked ahead of me, bobbing on his feet, shooting me a grin over his shoulder. I smiled and shook my head.

  The game attendant looked at us like we were nuts, and I agreed with him, but Lan didn’t back down. The obstacle course resembled that game show Wipeout, with wooden platforms and large padded wheels and rope climbs. I always thought those contestants looked so stupid and here I was, about to sacrifice myself for Landry.

  We lined up beside each other, our toes touching the cracked strip of yellow tape designating the start. Landry gave me a thumbs-up, which I didn’t return.

  With a whistle, we took off on some wobbly wooden bridge. Lan shoved me in front of him and I didn’t realize until a stream of water pelted me right in the chest and he snickered behind me that he was using me as a shield. We were the same height, but I was bulkier.

  “You bastard!” I sputtered, wiping water from my eyes.

  His laugh behind me turned into a yelp as water smacked skin. I laughed until my open mouth became a target for some kid.

  Once across the bridge, we had to climb a rope grid. Lan passed me with a grin, his limbs scaling the rope like a little monkey.

  “Hey!” I called, then almost lost my grip from laughing as some little girl with pigtails readied her canon and slammed Landry in the side of the head with a vicious jet of water.

  We both heaved ourselves to the top of the platform and rolled to our backs, a temporary reprieve since the sides of the platform blocked us from our tormentors.

  Our heads touched, limbs akimbo and chests heaving as we fought to catch our breaths.

  “I fucking hate you,” I said.

  “This is awesome,” he answered.

  I could only shake my head and rub my fingers through my wet hair, the back of my hand brushing his drenched curls.

  “Let’s finish this,” he said.

  I groaned and rolled onto all fours, then up on the balls of my feet in a crouch, one hand bracing my weight.

  He knelt and eyed me. “Damn, you look all tough right now, like you’re going to kick some ass.”

  “This isn’t a game, Landry, those kids are out for blood.”

  He laughed and rose to his feet. With a wink, he took off.

  I burst out in a run after him.

  The next five minutes were a whirlwind of stairs and slides and swinging on ropes over pits and God knew what else. It was all a blur. I told him I hated it, but this was Landry and me at our best, just friends on an obstacle course, battling crazy kids at an amusement park in Idaho.

  I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  The water pressure of the cannons grew stronger the farther we made it, or maybe our battered bodies were more sensitive to the assault. Landry pointed to a little, purple plastic playhouse-looking structure on the way for some temporary shelter. When we reached it, he threw open the door and dove in. I followed and slammed it shut behind us.

  It was smaller than it looked from the outside. We couldn’t lay down, or even sit. In fact, all we could do was stand there.

  Water pelted the outside of the structure, but inside, we were safe. Protected. We sucked in as much air as we could without water blasting us, and my eyes adjusted to the dim light. There was one tiny window behind Landry and a small bench to the right, but I wasn’t sure my ass would even fit on it.

  Landry and I were inches from each other, clothed only in cargo shorts, and we were soaking wet. I smelled sweat and chlorine. Landry’s body heat was a space heater blasting my chest and face.

  He was so, so close. And we’d been in this position before in locker rooms and sleepovers, but something was different now. I didn’t know if it was from our close proximity for the last week or what, but I couldn’t look away from his bare skin.

  I told myself not to look down. I squeezed my eyes shut but it didn’t matter, because my eyelids peeled back and my eyeballs gravitated to Landry’s lower body like a fucking magnet. His light tan shorts clung to every inch of him—every fucking inch because I could see the outline of his shaft—and I didn’t know what to do. I was breathing hard now, but it was no longer from the obstacle course. It was Landry’s presence and his smell and his skin, beaded with water so close, I could lick my lips and taste him. Our thighs brushed, quads to quads, and holy shit, I wanted to press closer.

  Landry shifted, his hip bumping my cock, which most definitely knew it was in Landry’s hot presence. And he froze. His eyes shot to my face, eyebrows drawn in, and his lips parted.

  He felt it. My betraying body.

  Now I did squeeze my eyes shut, a million thoughts and excuses racing through me. Could I blame the adrenaline? Could I say the rubbing caused it? Fuck. I needed to get out of here. I needed space away from Landry and this temptation.

  When I opened my eyes, Landry’s were on me, unblinking. He sucked his lips between his teeth, then let them back out.

  I needed to do something. I needed to say something.

  “Um, shit. Sorry, Lan. Just, uh, the excitement and the rubbing. I guess my dick thought you were a hot chick in a bikini or something.” I laughed but it sounded off in the small space, tinny. Abnormal and weird and uncomfortable. And I wanted to run out of the little house and tell all the kids to blast the shit out of me until I drowned.

 
Landry’s jaw tensed, his eyes flashed, and then he looked away. “Of course. No big deal,” he said with a shrug. But every muscle in his body screamed that it was a big deal.

  He shifted back and that’s when something hard brushed the back of my hand. I jerked my eyes down, but he’d turned away, his back to me, and peered out the tiny window.

  I stared at the back of his head, my hand on fire. I wanted to slip it in a glass case, preserve the feeling that maybe Landry wanted me, too. But that couldn’t be, could it? He would have told me.

  Like you tell him all your secrets? A voice in my head said.

  When he turned back to me, a mask had slipped over his face, muting his features like some shaded Photoshop layer. And I wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing.

  “Lan—” I started to apologize, plead, I didn’t know what.

  But he cut me off. “All right, I think they know we’re in here. Maybe one of us should create a diversion or something.”

  The change of subject spun my head, but Landry’s eyes were squinted, like he dared me to discuss the bulges in our pants. I didn’t take the dare. “Um, a diversion? Lan, this is a fucking amusement park and those kids are no older than ten. We aren’t fighting the Taliban here.”

  “Those kids are terrorists.”

  “Christ, Lan.”

  “Well, what do you think?”

  I shook my head and then held my hands up to make the classic gun shape. “For a moment there, I thought we were in trouble.”

  “Oh my God, are you quoting Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?”

  I grinned. We’d watched it all the time as kids. Robert Redford and Paul Newman, Western bank and train robbers on the run from the law. Lan always said he wanted them to make out with each other. “Best movie ever,” I said.

  He readied his “guns.”

  “We are such dorks.”

  “Yep.”

  And then we busted out of our purple playhouse, pretending to shoot the kids with our gun hands as they stared at us like we had gone crazy.

  ***

  We walked out of the park, squelching sounds announcing our presence with our wet feet in our shoes, dry shirts in our hands.