Summoning the Night (Arcadia Bell #2)(30)

“Nah, it’s kinda lame.” His eyes darted to the side.

“That’s not what you said three years ago,” Lon said.

“I was just a kid, and thanks for bringing that up, assbag.”

“Father Assbag,” Lon calmly corrected. “And you’re the one who was bragging earlier about vomiting. So go on, tell Cady all about how you weren’t scared that time.”

“If you think it’s so funny, you tell her.”

“Did he cry?” I asked, making a pouty face.

“Worse,” Lon said.

Jupe groaned, letting his head loll backward as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I pissed my pants, okay? Are you happy now?”

“What? Shut up! You didn’t!”

“It was the worst day of my life,” he admitted.

“Mine too. I nearly froze on our way to the car,” Lon said. “I had to give little Pee-Pants my jacket to cover up.”

I snickered and poked Jupe in the ribs. He giggled and tried to tickle me.

“Next,” Henry said loudly, interrupting our horseplay. “Hurry up. Others are waiting.”

Lon helped me into the teetering boat. We settled together on the long planked seat behind Jupe, who twisted around to peg us with a cocky grin. “Let’s make a bet. I’ll bet you five dollars out of my new savings account that I can use my knack on Henry to speed this ride up.”

Lon rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“Doubt all you want, haters. I’m going to be unstoppable when I master this thing. You just wait.”

“Oh, I’m waiting.”

“Does that mean you’re taking my bet?”

“I’ll bet you’re going to turn around in your seat before I change my mind and haul you off this thing.”

Jupe grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Henry pressed a large red button on the control panel behind him. With the blare of a buzzer, the ride jerked, then settled into a lazy trajectory, clinking along the metal underwater track. “Knack my ass,” Lon muttered, drawing me closer in the boat’s backseat. “You better hang on so you don’t fly off when we go down that second waterfall.”

Jupe snorted. “At this speed? We won’t even get a drop of water on us.”

“I think you mean drop of blood,” I said, leaning over his shoulder to make spidery fingers in his billowing curls. He laughed and grabbed my hands as an atmospheric Halloween soundtrack crackled over hidden speakers.

Two doors opened, allowing the boat to float into the first section of the dark ride. A cloud of dancing red lights was rigged to mimic evil eyes winking on the edge of a bog. It smelled strongly of chlorine and the soundtrack was so loud it almost hurt your ears. The costumed people posing on the ride’s shores looked more bored than frightening. Even the fog was cheesy. The whole production was an insult to both haunted houses and amusement park rides. Walt Disney would’ve rolled over in his grave.

When the ride ended, I leaned over the handrail and whispered into Jupe’s hair, “Stupidest ride ever.”

“It’s better when it’s faster,” he complained. “You couldn’t even tell when we went down the second waterfall drop.”

“There was a second drop?” I teased.

“See! So lame. I’m going to make this thing go faster.”

“Uh-huh, get right on that,” Lon encouraged sarcastically.

As a family with a small child boarded the boat in front of us, Jupe closed his eyes and white-knuckled the handlebar. “There he goes,” I whispered to Lon. “How cute is that?”

Suddenly Jupe popped up from his seat and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell. “HENRY! Turn it up to the highest speed and let us through one more time!”

“Goddammit, Jupe!” Lon snapped, yanking on his son’s jeans, which were so loose that they nearly slid right off his hips. With his retro “Let’s Go Out to the Lobby” cartoon theater-concession-food boxer shorts on display, Jupe grabbed the waist of his jeans just in time and tugged them back up. “The ride’s better faster,” Jupe called out again to Henry as all three boats glided forward. “Like the good old days!”

With apple-red cheeks and a confused look on his face, Henry took out a key and unlocked a door on the control panel. He switched something inside before slamming his palm over the big red button. “Hang on to your seats!” he warned.

And he wasn’t kidding. Our boat squealed on the track, parting the red water as we vaulted forward. I clung to the handlebar as a surprisingly strong gale of musty air hit my face. Jupe’s puffy mass of corkscrew curls blew back. A chorus of shouts rang out around us inside the dark tunnel.

The soundtrack was deliriously off-kilter as we buzzed by the first batch of ghostly animatronic mermaids. Lon swore indecipherably at my side, something grim and colorful about murdering his son, who twisted in his seat to yell, “Do you believe me now?” I thought he said, “motherf*ckers” after that, but it was lost under the disconcerting squeal of the boat as it roughly chugged along the underwater track.

The first waterfall came way too fast. I heard the cries of the family ahead of us and braced myself for the drop. Cold, red water splashed over the sides, soaking half my hair and the entire right leg of my jeans as I cried out.