What We Knew by Barbara Stewart Page B

anyone ever died on this ride?” I asked.
    The guy tugged on the harness straps, said “Not today,” and signaled the control booth.
    My mom and Katie cheered as our feet left the platform. Lisa kissed my cheek. “Wave to the people,” she said.
    The cable winched us higher and higher. Suddenly, I had to pee. My fear needed an out. The pool below didn’t help. Shallow and filled with concrete blocks and floodlights, the image of serenity was an illusion. The water wouldn’t break my fall, and the crap at the bottom would break my face.
    “We’ve all got to go someday,” Lisa said.
    I wanted to punch her, but I was afraid to move.
    “That’s so not what I want to hear right now,” I choked.
    The riders stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel looked up and waved. Lisa waved back. Her hip bone rubbed against mine. A jerk in the cable made me pinch my eyes shut. We’d stopped moving. A grainy voice came from somewhere above. One of us had to pull the rip cord.
    “Look at all those people down there wishing they had the guts to be up here,” Lisa said. “If we can do this, we can do anything.”
    “All those people are waiting for us to die so they can put it on the Internet,” I said.
    Lisa reached up and wrapped her fingers around the grip. I couldn’t do it. I would’ve left us hanging there forever. The voice started counting: three, two, one …
    I’ve dreamed of falling. Usually it’s off a cliff or a bridge, but I’m always startled awake after those first few seconds of weightlessness. I opened my eyes and screamed. Lisa screamed, too. Gravity tugged at my insides. We were gaining speed. My cheeks rippled. Down, down, faster and faster, like a giant bird, wings pulled tight, swooping in on its prey, and then we were soaring up, up. We were floating again. Rising gently. My fear rose, too, and fell away. Lisa and I stuck our arms out like superheroes and screamed just to scream.
    “I love you!” Lisa hollered over the wind.
    “I love you, too!” I hollered back.
    The arc got shorter and shorter, and then the guy on the platform chased us with a hook to pull us in. We landed to clapping. My mom and Katie rushed the gate. “That was the most amazing thing ever!” I shouted. Katie and Lisa bumped fists, my mom dispensed the jewelry and sunglasses, and then we huddled around the map. The sun was brutal. Everybody looked boiled. “How about something gentle?” my mother suggested. “There’s that ski lift ride over in Tiny Town.”
    “Too high,” Katie said. She wanted to do the Scrambler—her favorite. We stopped for sodas on the way. One minute Katie was happily guzzling root beer and then she was crying because someone ran over her foot with a stroller. When we got to the Bavarian Village, her stomach hurt again. I was starting to wish we hadn’t brought her.
    “Maybe no more soda today,” my mom advised. “Okay?”
    Katie tossed her cup in the trash and plunked down on a bench. Lisa plunked down with her. My mom and I got in line for the ride.
    “Something’s up with her,” my mom said, frowning. “While you and Lisa were on the Rip Cord, she went on and on about some monster that’s stalking her and Lisa. She’s a little old for that kind of talk, isn’t she?”
    “Sixth graders can be weird,” I said. “Remember when I thought the hall closet was haunted?”
    My mother rolled her eyes. The dude running the Scrambler told us to take one of the cars around back. I waved good-bye to Lisa, who was braiding Katie’s hair, and climbed in first, which was a mistake. When I was little my mom always sat on the outside, against the padding, so she wouldn’t squash me, but I’m not little anymore. I’m bigger than my mom. Taller, anyway. The ride started and I flew across the seat, my bones sinking into the softness of her flesh. I tried to keep from putting all my weight on her, but I was powerless against the forces pulling.
    Katie and Lisa sprawled on the bench.
    The arcade with