The Way You Make Me Feel(52)
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.