Page 3 of Buried in the Woods Below

“Whatever, I’m fine.”

She cocks her head. “Oh, so you’re saying you weren’t scared at all?”

I throw her a defiant smile. “Nope.”

“Ha, you are such a liar.”

Before I can respond, she slides her legs from under the safety bar and stands on the cracked brown leather cushion. The gondola wobbles beneath her feet, the hinges screeching.

I press myself against the back of the seat, eyes wide in disbelief at what I’m seeing. My chest tightens, and the muscles in my legs and arms cinch. “Olivia, what are you doing?”

She ignores me and stands taller, spreading her arms out like she’s flying—her weight forward, face cutting the wind like a carving on the prow of a ship, proud and invincible.

But she’s not invincible. I know better. This isn’t one of those newer, glass-enclosed gondolas. One shift, one wrong move, and she’s gone.

“Olivia, sit down,” I say, my voice cracking.

She closes her eyes for a breath, basking in the danger as we rise higher into the night sky and the supermoon closes in. A gust of wind kicks up, and she shifts her hips to find her center. I want to reach for her leg and grab her, but I’m afraid I’ll knock her off-balance. My palms sweat as I search for an emergency brake or switch I could pull to make this horrible machine stop.

She spots my terror and winks, spreading her arms wider. “I want you to admit you were scared and wouldn’t have gotten on this ride if it weren’t for your pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia.”

I search the fairgrounds for help, but no one notices. My fingers clutch the seat cushion, knuckles white, stricken with panic.

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head and steps onto the edge of the gondola.

The realization hits me: She’s going to balance on it.

The sounds of the fair fade to a low hum.

An impish grin crosses her face. “I don’t want you to say sorry. I want you to admit you wouldn’t have gotten on this ride if it weren’t for your pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia.”

Everything inside me tells me to grab her. Just lean over and grab her by the waist, pull her toward you, and don’t let go.

But I can’t. I’m paralyzed.

My nails dig into the seat cushion. “Olivia, please come down.”

Her smile grows so wide that it takes up half her face, a sea of ivory. The Ferris wheel squeals beneath her. She wags her dainty finger at me and places her other foot on the edge, arms spread like a gymnast on a balance beam. The ride is reaching its apex now, and as mortified as I am, I can’t help but be struck by the beauty of what I’m seeing—this girl dressed in white, lit like an angel by the Ferris wheel bulbs below, framed by a glittering night sky.

It takes my breath away.

A spark of jealousy runs through me, watching how effortlessly she performs feats I couldn’t even dream of. I wish we could trade places for just one day.

The shriek of the wheel snaps me back to reality, to the fact that my best friend stands on the precipice of death. “I’m sorry!” I scream.

“Not good enough. You have to say, ‘pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia,’” she says, raising one foot and lifting it to her hand like a ballerina. She pauses. “Or I could tell my dad you have a crush on him…”

I frantically scan the ground for help. My dad and the Parkers chat away, oblivious, but a few spectators notice. A woman screams. My mom looks up now, her jaw on the ground, but she does nothing, like me, frozen by what she’s seeing.

I turn back to her and clasp my hands together. I’ve been holding my breath for so long I can barely speak. “Okay, I wouldn’t have gotten on this ride if it weren’t for my pretty, funny, awesome friend Olivia.”

She cocks her head, measuring my sincerity, waits a beat, then drops her raised leg, puts her foot back down on the edge of the gondola, and laughs. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

I release a breath and run my hand through my hair.

She begins to step down as the wheel reaches its apex and rotates back toward the earth. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was—”