Dreamland (Riley Bloom #3)(30)

With hammering heart, and sweaty palms, he made his way toward her. Having no idea what he’d say once he got there, and knowing all too well there was a good chance that her friends would all laugh, he still had to go through with it. He couldn’t let the chance slip away. He was at the carnival—just like any other kid—just like any normal kid—and he wanted Mary Angel to see it.

He wanted her to see him the way he saw her.

By the time he caught up, she and her friends had made their way to the front of the line for the Ferris wheel, waiting for their turn to board.

I stood beside him, the two of us gazing up at the car that loomed highest. And while I’d always loved the Ferris wheel, carnivals too for that matter, Satchel made me see it in a whole different light.

Carnivals were dangerous and dirty places—operated by shady carnies with even shadier pasts—and while all of the rides held their own unique dangers, the Ferris wheel was the granddaddy—the most dangerous of them all. His father had assured him of that on the drive over, while his mother had sat right beside him, head nodding in silent agreement.

I shot him a worried look. He was just a few inches shy of Mary Angel, and I braced for what he might do, what he might say. He was in unfamiliar territory to say the least.

Mary Angel turned, smiling in a way that made her face shine with happiness, and though the smile was in no way directed at him,

she’d

been

merely

laughing

at

something a friend said, Satchel was too sheltered, too hopeful, too socially awkward to see the smile for what it really was.

He used it as an excuse to approach her.

Stopping just shy when a boy, Jimmy MacIntyre, otherwise known as Jimmy Mac, or sometimes just Mac, placed a possessive hand on her back, threading his fingers through her blaze of red hair while gently pushing her toward the vacant, waiting car.

“Hey, Satchel, you gonna ride too?” Mary Angel called, finally seeing him as she slid onto the seat.

And though he’d sought her attention, though it was the number-one reason, the only reason, for lying to his parents and risk-ing their wrath if the lie should be discovered—now that she was looking at him, he was struck dumb, left completely speechless, breaking out in a sweat that soon worked its way from his forehead all the way down to his feet.

Jimmy Mac answering for him when he said, “You kidding? Satchel? Ride this thing?

Please. That kid’s such a wimp he has a permanent note to get out of PE. He’s not allowed to run! Can you believe it? Running is too dangerous!” He shook his head, rolled his auburn eyes. “Craziest thing I’ve ever heard and I swear to gawd it’s true!” Mary Angel glanced shyly at Satchel, shot him a regretful look, as Jimmy Mac claimed the space right beside her, his shoulder pressing into her angora-covered shoulder in a way that made Satchel’s head swim.

Satchel gulped, gaped, all too aware of the seconds marching forward, erasing all that remained of the three minutes he was given.

All too aware of the mountain of trouble that awaited him if he was caught standing anywhere near the mouth of the Ferris wheel.

“You riding or not?” the carnie asked, his face a mess of crags and crevices—evidence of a life lived recklessly, his father would say.

And though he knew better than to ask, Satchel wondered how his father might go about explaining his mother, who didn’t have much of a life to speak of and yet she bore the same, saddened, used-up look.

“C’mon, get this thing up!” Jimmy Mac yelled. “Satchel Blaise the turd, oops, I mean the third, ain’t goin’ nowhere. Blaise is the biggest chicken the world’s ever seen!”

“Make up yer mind, kid. I don’t got all day!” The carnie narrowed his eyes so much they were swallowed by a mass of sallow, puffy, excess skin—the result of too much sun, too many late nights—obviously no one had warned him.

Satchel was just about to turn, just about to head back, knowing his parents were probably already looking for him, probably already steaming mad, when Mary Angel called, “Don’t listen to him, Satchel. C’mon, take a ride—the Ferris wheel’s fun!” She wanted him to ride!

Mary Angel—the girl with the fiery red hair and bright shining smile—didn’t see him like all the other kids did.

I watched as Satchel threw all caution aside and moved toward the car. My fingers twisting, clutching at each other in a fit of nerves, willing him forward, egging him on, but wanting him to hurry, to board already, before his parents showed up.

He slid into the car below Mary Angel’s, getting a quick glimpse of her waving hand, her smiling face, her legs kicking above him.

His heart hammering so hard against his rib cage he was sure it would leap right out of his chest and land on his lap. His fingers so slick with sweat, they slipped when he tried to grab hold of the rail and lock himself in, but luckily the craggy old carnie swung by to take care of that for him.

And the next thing he knew he was lifted—carried up—up—up—high into the sky.

Higher than he’d ever been.

Higher than he ever thought possible.

Higher than his parents would ever allow.

But instead of feeling scared, instead of feeling shadowed by imminent danger, he felt exhilarated.

Free.

And for the first time in his life, he gazed down upon the earth, not seeing it as dangerous at all, but instead, as host to the most wonderful possibilities.