by Maurene Goo
I sighed. “Yes. I’m serious.”
Patrick shook his head. “That’s messed up. Who’s going to be your mortal enemy now?” Patrick was making light of it, too. But like with Felix, I detected some bitterness underneath. I took a bite of my burger, fending off that nagging feeling I’d had for weeks—that I wasn’t sure how much I enjoyed hanging out with these guys anymore.
“Your mom,” I replied with my mouth full. He laughed, and the awkwardness dissipated.
Full of burgers, fries, and milk shakes, we pulled up to the water park an hour later.
“Oh. My. God,” I said as I stepped out of the car, pushing my sunglasses onto my head so that I could get a better look.
We were in the middle of absolutely nowhere. The desert. A scrubby mountain range loomed in the distance, shrouded by the smoggy curtain that took up permanent residence here during the hot months. We were in a giant parking lot that could fit an entire city’s worth of cars. And spread out before us was an oasis.
Kind of.
A huge turquoise retro sign declared this place AQUA-TROPICA. A neat row of palm trees flanked either side, and behind the ticket booth you could see giant waterslides rising and dipping like pastel-colored snakes. Everything was very “Americana”—from the 1950s lettering on the signs to the paintings of happy blond families.
Hamlet and Rose were waiting for us out front. Rose was hovering under the awning, fanning herself. The heat here in the inland empire was no joke. It must have been triple digits, easy.
But my eyes were on Hamlet. And his on mine, with an easy smile matching his relaxed stance.
He had no idea he was entering the lion’s den.
Wearing a robin’s-egg blue baseball cap, white T-shirt, and navy swim trunks, Hamlet extended a hand to Felix first. “Hey, nice to meet you guys finally. I’m Hamlet.”
Felix looked at the hand for a second. Raised an eyebrow. “Hey. I’m Felix.” An almost imperceptible look of recognition passed across Hamlet’s face. He knew Felix was an ex. But he kept his hand out, and Felix reluctantly shook it. My shoulders relaxed a little—this whole interaction was making me so tense.
Everyone else introduced themselves, and then we entered the park. A sense of foreboding followed me inside while Hamlet talked to some maintenance workers. He eventually waved us over.
“Okay, we’re good to go,” he said. “There are some rides we’re not allowed to go on because they’re not quite ready, but the rest should be fine. Our jobs are to test everything at least once to make sure it’s going well.” He grinned, waiting for an excited reaction that never came, except from Rose, who whooped.
Rose was sticking to Hamlet like glue, barely talking to everyone else. “So, there are workers at each ride? Just waiting for us?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I guess?”
“Like slaves,” Patrick said as he snapped his gum.
What the heck, Patrick!
Hamlet laughed. “Wow, never thought of it that way since they’re paid, but yeah, whatever.” I squeezed his hand. One point Hamlet.
“Yeah, so no, not like slaves,” Rose said drily. Patrick had the grace to blush.
I looked around. “Where do we even start?”
Hamlet stopped walking and let go of my hand to rummage around in his back pocket. He pulled out a colorful laminated map with various attractions and landmarks illustrated in a cartoony style. “Well, we’re here,” he said, pointing at the bottom middle of the map. “We could go in a circle, starting at the Rocky Rapids?”
“Sounds good,” Rose said after a few seconds of scrutinizing the map. “That way we can make sure we don’t miss anything.”
“Wouldn’t want to miss anything,” Cynthia said, her red lips curved up into a smirk.
Before I could react, Rose leveled her sunglass-covered gaze onto Cynthia. “Excuse me?” Normally, I would have loved to see Cynthia wither under a Rose freeze, but I was hoping everyone would actually get along today. Hamlet, ever the diplomat, strode ahead, taking Rose with him. “All right, Rocky Rapids it is!”
There was a particular thrill in not having to wait in lines to go on a ride. A childlike giddiness took over everyone. For a few minutes as we ran laughing through the grounds, hopping over barricades, it felt like we were little kids again.
With the assistance of a stocky, barrel-chested Aqua-Tropica worker, we climbed into a large circular raft. “Thanks, Rodney,” Hamlet said as Rodney pushed us off.
Patrick had both of his arms spread out on either side of him, the picture of ease. “Do you know everyone’s names?”
“Pretty much. I’ve had to visit here a few times to help out since my parents are out of the country,” Hamlet said with a shrug.
“That’s nice,” Patrick said. And he wasn’t being sarcastic. I think it was becoming clear to him that Hamlet was nice. That he wasn’t faking it, that—surprise, Patrick—sometimes people were genuine!
The raft tilted to the side a bit when I bounced hard on the seat, making everyone squeal and grab hold of the handles. Cynthia glared at me and I smiled, teeth showing.
Rocky Rapids wasn’t as rocky as the name promised. It was mostly us floating along a “river” that snaked past various plasticky islands and real palm trees. Every once in a while, we passed through a waterfall, which made us scream as if it was unexpected each time.
By the time we finished, every single one of us was properly soaked. Cynthia looked irritated by it, her mascara running down her face.
Rose pointed at her eyes. “Waterproof. It’s all about the waterproof.” Cynthia furiously pulled out a compact and wiped at the streaks under her eyes.
We went on some more rides: Tsunami Bay, which had us crashing around so hard in a giant pool that both Felix and I almost threw up; Death Drop, which was exactly what it sounded like, a huge slide that went down, almost completely vertically, into a “lagoon” with fake sharks floating around in it; and Battle Cove, a pool of calm water where we floated in doughnuts and bonked each other with foam noodles.
All of us were a little sunburned and soaking wet after a few rides. Cynthia was reapplying sunblock on Felix’s neck, and Rose and I had ducked into the shade of a bushy palm. Hamlet pulled out his map. (I now understood why it was laminated.) “Okay, so next is Dueling Devils. Oh, this ride is amazing, two people can race each other!”
We followed him down one of the paths and stopped when Hamlet slapped his forehead. “Oh crap, this is one of the closed ones.”
“What? That looks awesome, though,” Felix said.
We looked over at the ride, which had yellow tape draped across the entrance and a sign that read CLOSED TEMPORARILY. The look that appeared on Patrick’s face set off alarm bells. “Hey, I bet we could still sneak on.”
Rose shook her head adamantly. “No. We are not doing that.”
Hamlet pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and peered over at the ride. “Yeah. I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s cool. The next ride is the Beast, which is like a roller coaster—”
But Patrick was already scrambling over the fence with Felix and Cynthia close behind.
“Hey!” I yelled. But they ignored me, making their way to the other side of the fence in seconds. The one athletic activity we all excelled in.
Rose ran over to me. “Get your friends in order!”
Hamlet was already at their heels, and he nimbly hopped up onto the fence, leaning over the top. “You guys! Come on, it’s not safe!” he yelled.
If I was being honest, there was a part of me that wanted to jump the fence with them, but one glance at Hamlet’s worried expression squelched that compulsion. So instead I jogged over to the fence and hollered, “You better not get on that ride! I swear to God!”
Hamlet helped me up so that I could see them on the other side.
The three of them were already running to the top of the stairs that led to the giant tubular slides. “Come on, Clara! You know you want to!” Patrick shouted.
Felix was pushing Cynthia into one of the slides. Before he hopped in right after her, he pointed at me. “See you at the bottom!” Then he and Patrick jumped into their respective slides—their whoops audible as they whooshed through the pastel green and blue tubes, hidden from view.
“I’m sorry, Hamlet.” I glanced at him
But Hamlet was already over the fence, running. “I’m serious—it’s not safe!” he shouted as he headed toward the end of the ride, his legs moving so fast they were almost a blur. Crapcrapcrap.
In a few seconds, Rose was on the other side, too. She looked up at me and held out her clasped hands as a sort of stirrup. “Here!”
I used the stirrup as I hopped down, landing a little low and scraping my knee. Rose pulled me up. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine! Follow Hamlet!” Both of us booked it, the hundred-degree sun scorching us as we sprinted after him.
We were stopped by an ear-piercing scream. Rose and I looked at each other in alarm, then ran even faster.
When we reached the end of the ride, I gasped. The slide ended at a giant pool, where it jettisoned people. A giant pool that was currently only half-filled.
“Oh no,” Rose muttered. Hamlet was already in the pool, and I saw him bent over someone—Felix. Cynthia was sobbing, and Patrick was sitting waist-deep in the pool, looking dazed.
I ran over, and my heart hammered in my chest when I noticed the blood spreading like ink through the water. Surrounding Felix.
“Is he okay?” I asked, my voice shrill and unrecognizable.
Rose immediately jumped into the pool and helped Hamlet—grabbing the other side of Felix, who was limp but had his eyes open, dazed. There was a wound on his head, the source of the blood.
“Go get help,” Hamlet said to me in a low voice.
“But, I—I don’t have my phone!” None of us did; we’d left them in our lockers at the entrance.
“One of the workers can call,” he replied, pointing at the exit gate. Then he looked over at Patrick. “Are you all right?”
Patrick nodded, but he was clutching his left arm, which was bent at an unnatural angle. I felt vomit rising in my throat.
“Clara.” Hamlet looked at me again. I nodded and ran to the gate, finding one of the workers. After he called 911, I ran back to everyone, hoping that somehow when I returned everything would be different. That my friends were pulling another prank.
But Rose and Hamlet were sitting next to Felix, keeping his head out of the water. The sight of Cynthia holding her bundled-up tank top to Felix’s head, soaked red with his blood, made me woozy.
Nope, it was all very real.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Rose said firmly. “Unless you want to die.”
Cynthia sobbed, and Hamlet threw Rose an exasperated look. She frowned. “Well, it’s a possibility!”
Patrick stood next to them, still cradling his arm. When he started to sway, I ran over and steadied him. “Hey, how about you get out of the water and sit down,” I said.
He followed me, nary a wisecrack for once, and I helped him climb the stairs out of the pool. As I set him down on a bench, I heard sirens. Shortly after that, a group of medics were running in, some of the park’s employees close behind.
Everything happened in a blur—Felix was lifted onto a stretcher. Cynthia was okay but wanted to ride in the ambulance with Felix. After some inspection, a medic told Patrick he’d probably broken his arm and needed to go to the hospital, too.
Hamlet, Rose, and I followed them out into the parking lot. I walked alongside Patrick for a few seconds. I didn’t know what I was expecting, contrition or an apology? But when they got into the ambulances without a word to Hamlet and Rose—both of whom had done everything to help them—I had to say something.
“Hey!” I shouted.
Other than Felix who was lying down, everyone looked at me. I took a deep breath. “I hope you guys feel better soon, but after this is all done, you owe Hamlet an apology.”
Hamlet tugged at me. “It’s okay, Clara. They’re hurt—”
“Are you seriously asking for an apology right now?” Cynthia cried from the ambulance bench.
Felix put a hand on her arm. “It’s fine, Cyn. She’s right. Sorry about this, Hamlet.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” Hamlet said with a grim smile. “Just take care of yourself, man.”
Then the doors shut, and Felix’s ambulance wailed off into the distance. Patrick’s ambulance was idling, his injury not as serious. I walked over to him and he gave me a small smile. “Best summer ever.” I didn’t laugh. He sighed. “You’re right, we were being jerks.” He looked down at his lap. “But, I mean, it kind of sucks. Being ditched, you know?”
I bit down on my lip, suddenly feeling like I wanted to cry. “I didn’t ditch you guys.”
He glanced behind me at Rose and Hamlet, who were talking to the EMTs. “Maybe not. But you’re going to.”
Before I could respond, the medics closed up the doors and drove off, the ambulance growing smaller in the distance, leaving me caught between its receding lights and Hamlet and Rose.
CHAPTER 24
“Clara, look alive!”
I startled and looked up at the TV. My player had just fallen off a cliff.
Hamlet’s grandma threw her controller down in disgust. “I want to be on a different team!”
It was a few days after the water-park catastrophe and I was sitting on the carpet at Hamlet’s, playing our usual Friday night Space Pineapple Death Match. Early on in this new Friday routine, his grandpa reluctantly moved the video-game console downstairs so that we could play group matches. I was distracted, and Hamlet’s grandmother pulled herself off the carpet with a groan. “I’m going to get some snacks.” She pointed at me. “You. Practice some more while I’m gone.” Hamlet’s grandpa heaved himself off a chair to follow her. “You’re going to pick bad snacks,” he complained after her.
We paused the game, and the second his grandparents had scuttled into the kitchen, Hamlet reached over and pulled me closer to him—both of our backs pressed against the sofa. He touched the tip of my nose. “What’s up?”
“Your grandpa’s kicking my butt, as per usual.”
“No, I mean you seem off today. Is everything okay?”
I took a second to appreciate this Hamlet quality of checking on me. He was good at honing in on my feelings, and right now it was guilt about my friends ruining his parents’ grand opening. My shoulder bumped his as I scooted closer. “Yeah, I’m all right. Did your mom pick a new grand opening date yet?”
He shrugged. “No, my parents have to figure out the lawsuit first.”
Shame seeped into me. After the accident, Hamlet’s mom had to decide whether to delay the grand opening since the accident was bad press—you know, “Teenagers Almost Die in Water Park.” Before she could figure that out, however, Felix’s parents were threatening to file a lawsuit against the park. Felix had reached out to me to apologize because his parents weren’t backing down. I cursed Past Clara for not endearing herself more to Felix’s parents when we’d dated.
And in the middle of all this, I couldn’t get Patrick’s voice out of my head: But you’re going to. Everyone around me seemed to be noticing some sort of shift in me that I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
Here I was spending a Friday night with my debate-club-president boyfriend at his grandparents’ house. My debate-club-president boyfriend. And I already knew my weekend plans: I was going to get Ethiopian food with Pai and Kody (my idea—an olive branch after naengmyeon-gone-wrong) and go on a hike with Hamlet. And then work the KoBra on Sunday.
Over the course of the summer, my life really had become unrecognizable.
“Why do you like me?” The words came out before my brain could stop them—its squishy brain arms reaching out frantically while its “Noooooooo!” became an echo as the words flew farther away from its grasp.
I expected silence, the normal reaction to such a
random and naked question. But Hamlet just chuckled and said, “Because!”
“Because why?” I couldn’t stop. The need to see myself through Hamlet’s eyes was overwhelming. I didn’t feel like myself lately, and I needed someone else to confirm that I was, indeed, the same person. Or confirm that I wasn’t.
He pulled his knees up into his chest. “Well, you’re really funny.”
What else was new. “So you’re into clowns.”
The joke got a belly laugh from Hamlet that it did not deserve. “Actually, I’m scared of clowns.”
“Who isn’t? The person who feels no fear in their heart when seeing a freaking clown in the flesh is probably a serial killer!”
Hamlet threw his head back and the laugh that came out of his body immediately made me crack up with him. When he finally calmed down, he was wiping away tears. Tears. I smiled at him, and the tenderness that flooded out of my chest and into all my extremities caught me off guard.
I don’t deserve him.
I blinked. “Okay, so what else?”
“Jeez. You’re being so bossy about this.”
“Your grandparents are going to take three hours making a fruit platter for us. We need to fill the time.”
His head was still leaning back on the edge of the sofa, his arm draped casually behind me. But when he looked over, not smiling for a second, his eyes were serious and intense. They cut through me, blazing hot, and I was completely disarmed.
Keeping his eyes on mine, his fingers grazed my bare shoulder. “I like your freckles. The way you chew on your lips when you’re annoyed.” I rubbed them together self-consciously and he smiled. “And I like … how you dress. Especially when you wear your Docs with your little shorts.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, pervo.” But I was pleased—I always felt so sloppy and unkempt next to Hamlet. Whenever I first saw Rose in her carefully coordinated outfits, I wished that I dressed more like her.
“But I think what I like most,” he said almost sleepily, his fingers playing with my tank-top strap, “is how you’re different from me.”
It should have been sweet, comforting—something like that. But instead, I could only think of how that chasm of difference between us had shrunk over the summer. How that bothered me for some reason. “Different how?” My needling knew no bounds.
