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My heart picks up speed as we wait behind the yellow line. The car pulls up, and everyone exits to the other side. We’re next. I crack my knuckles and shake out my hands. The group of boys are two rows ahead of us. They see me and joke about how nervous I am. I roll my eyes. Little jerks.
I settle into the seat and lower the harness, pulling it as tight as possible against my ribcage. A teenage kid pulls on my seat belt and harness. Are you kidding me? Are you even old enough for this important job? It seems this job is way above his pay grade. If it’s not, it should be.
“Get ready, baby,” Paxton says, winking at me as he turns his hat backward. “This ride is just a prelude to the actual ride tonight.”
“There you go again. Promising things. I hope you’re not setting yourself up for failure.”
His laugh roars as the red light goes from yellow to green, and we shoot out and start moving up. Oh shit! My fingers grip the handles for dear life. I was not expecting the initial burst, and I think I peed myself a little.
I changed my mind.
Spinning on the ground sounds much safer.
I should’ve gone for safe.
Every click, click, click of the track underneath us vibrates in my chest. Holy shit. Will it ever stop climbing? I’ve decided I’m not a heights person. Wish I would’ve figured that out while on the ground. I exhale and stare at the blue skies, pretending I’m lying on the ground as we inch up—at an excruciatingly slow pace. This has to get better, right?
Little did I know that was the best part.
Because we stopped. “What…” Panic spikes as I look to my left, then right at Paxton. “Why aren’t we moving? Is this supposed to happen?”
“Uh…I don’t believe so.”
Right before it got to the top, it stopped. It was moving, click, click, click, and I cursed it was taking too long, and then nothing. We’re at a steep angle, nothing to do but stare up at the clear blue skies and the glaring sun. This isn’t happening. I jerk my hand around, searching for Paxton’s hand. He finds me and squeezes.
“It’s okay, Kali.”
“Is it?” My voice cracks at such a high octave.
Voices grow louder, creating a cacophony of confusion and panic. The unforgiving sun beats down on our faces. Thankfully, we both have sunglasses on, so it’s not miserable. Yet. I take that back. This is beyond miserable, but at least I’m not blind.
“Hey, look at me,” Paxton says, leaning forward to see over his harness. I hesitate as if the mere movement of my head will tilt the train over and we’ll fall to our deaths, but I glance over when I tell myself that I’m being ridiculous. “We’re fine, and we can’t fall out. We’re safe right here.”
“This can’t be safe.” My heart pounds in my ears, and despite the ample air and bright sun, I feel myself slipping back into the dark box. My breathing becomes loud and labored, sweat beads trail down my back and across my forehead. “That’s it, no more big boys for me,” I snap, squeezing my eyelids shut.
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
I jerk my head forward and turn in his direction, pursing my lips. Anger temporarily disables the fear. “I’m not in a kidding mood at the moment,” I snap.
Minutes crawl by, and nothing. Some of the chatter has now turned into small cries. My fingers burn from gripping the harness. I release them, one at a time, to shake out the tension, only to clench back onto it, holding on for dear life.
“Close your eyes,” he urges.
They already are, but now he has me questioning why he wants them closed. What does he not want me to see? Unable to resist, I open them again. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Everything is okay. Close your eyes and focus on my voice,” he reassures.
Reluctantly, I do what he says, closing my eyes and trying to calm the racing thoughts. I lick my dry lips and try to slow my breaths. “They’re closed.”
“Tonight, we’re going out. Think about what you’re going to wear. Where we are going. What you are going to drink,” he prompts.
I fight to transport myself to a bar setting. “Tequila. Lots of it,” I declare, the first thing I wish I had right now. It might be the only thing that would make this situation more bearable.
He laughs. “Tequila it is. Now imagine yourself sitting there. I’ve left to go to the bar,” he continues, and it’s becoming easier to immerse myself as he keeps talking. “You wonder where I disappeared to because it’s been a few minutes.”
I play along, but I wonder where this is headed.
“And then you see me on stage, tapping the mic. Is this thing on?”
