What We Knew by Barbara Stewart Page A

mom agreed. She’s not big into company functions. The way she sees it, she spends enough time with her coworkers without socializing on her days off.
    “Is that all you’re eating?” my mom asked Katie. Katie rubbed her belly at the pile of corn cobs and ice cream sandwich wrappers and said she felt funny. I took one look at the shriveled brown puck masquerading as a hamburger and ate the salads instead—at least they were fresh.
    “Oh my God!” Lisa shrieked, shoving the park guide in my face. “They’ve got one of those skydive thingies! It’s right out there!”
    I followed her finger to the two towers sticking up behind the pavilion next to ours. “No way,” I mumbled through a mouthful of coleslaw. “They charge for that ride.”
    “I’ve got money!” Lisa pulled a fifty from her pocket. “I’ll pay! Please say yes!”
    Before I could say no, a burly guy with a yellow mustache and red nose clapped my mom on the back. “Trish, sweetie! You look like you went through the bus wash!” Al Minty. My mother hates Al Minty. He’s one of the drivers who make her life miserable, filing bullshit grievances against her.
    My mom smiled tightly. He was lucky the fork in her hand was plastic.
    “Where’s Teddy?” Al asked. “I thought I saw you two together.” Teddy is my dad. Al smelled like he’d been boozing it up at the Bavarian Village.
    “Wasn’t Ted,” my mother answered sharply. “Better clean your beer goggles.”
    Al’s nose turned redder. Lisa kicked me under the table. I bit back a wicked grin. It sounds sappy, but I’m sort of proud of my mom, the way she can shut down someone like Al. No one knows she hates her job or that she used to come home crying and make herself ill thinking about work the next day. She’s a no-nonsense boss, but she takes a lot of crap being the only woman in a garage full of guys. Not all of them are jerks, just a few. The rest of them treat her like the Snow White in some twisted fairy tale.
    “Who are these lovely ladies?” Al asked, changing the subject.
    Lisa and I exchanged glances.
    “You remember Tracy,” my mom said. “This is her friend Lisa. And Lisa’s sister, Katie.”
    “You girls having fun?” he asked.
    We all nodded, and then Lisa and I pulled out our phones to ignore him. I texted Adam to see what he was up to. He was helping his dad with the yard. I’d rather be hanging with you, he said.
    “Take it easy,” Al said, raising his hand. “Good seeing you, Tracy.”
    My mom rolled her eyes and then gathered our plates and dumped them in a big orange barrel swarming with bees.
    “What was that all about?” I asked, pushing through the turnstile.
    “Al just likes to be difficult,” she said. “Anything to make me uncomfortable.”
    He made me uncomfortable, too.
    “Rip Cord?” Lisa said. She linked her arm through mine and dragged me to the fence. “It’s not so bad. Look. We’ll get the DVD to show Adam and Gabe.”
    “There’s no net,” Katie said.
    “That’s what the pool’s for,” Lisa said. “If something snaps, we’ll end up in the water.”
    I locked eyes with my mom, hoping she’d rescue me.
    “It’s up to you,” she said. “If you’re afraid…”
    Katie just stood there with her arms folded, shaking her head.
    “Fine,” I huffed. “Let’s do it. Before I change my mind.”
    Lisa squealed and then flung her phone and sunglasses and jewelry at my mom and then raced to the ticket booth. She had enough for the ride, but not the DVD. My eyes traveled up the lift tower. I wondered what the girl pushing me toward the platform had done with my best friend. There was the death wish thing—that was new—but scarier than that, we had an audience. Lisa hates being the center of attention. It’s what keeps her backstage doing makeup and hair. It’s what keeps her from auditions year after year. Everybody’s eyes were on us as the guy cinched us together in an oversized apron and made us lock arms.
    “Has