We go into the kitchen, and he slides onto a barstool. He rakes a hand through his hair, and his shoulders slump. “I don’t know what happened. I was perfect for this part.”
I grab him a Cherry Coke from the fridge—because it’s Micah’s favorite and that’s all we have right now—and slide onto the stool next to him. “I’m so sorry.”
He pops open the tab, takes a drink, then sets the can down with aclunk. “My agent dropped me this morning.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m too ‘typecast’ as a child actor,” River says, using air quotes. “And he said he can’t sell me anymore.” River stares down at the counter, and I feel the weight of his disappointment.
“That’s terrible. I’m sure you’re so much more than just a child actor.” I put my hand over his, trying to reassure him. “You’ll get another agent. Someone who gets you better roles.”
“I don’t know if I want to try anymore. It’s been so long since I had anything of value come my way.”
I pat his hand. “Don’t give up. Not if this is your dream.”
He raises his gaze to meet mine. “That’s just it. I don’t know if this is my dream. I thought it was when I was a kid. I begged my parents to take me to that audition. I don’t think anyone expected me to get such a big role. But I don’t know anymore. Maybe this is something I’ve outgrown.”
“If this isn’t your dream, what is?”
River shrugs and takes another drink of his soda. “I don’t know. Maybe instead of acting, I could explore my filmmaking. I like to do that. It’s more of a hobby right now, but I could start taking it more seriously.”
“I think that’s a great idea. Will you show me some of your work?”
“Sure.” He pulls out his phone and calls up a video.
We watch it together. It looks like a short documentaryon the life of a crab. I watch as a crab comes out of his burrow and picks along the seaweed for food. When a seagull comes, it quickly burrows itself back in the sand.
When it’s done, my mouth is hanging open. “River, this is really fantastic. Some of those shots you took are so artistic. I never would have thought to film from those angles.”
He blushes. “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”
“It’s really good.”
River slides off his barstool. “I need a distraction from today’s bad news. Are you up for it?”
I take in his devilish grin and narrow my eyes. “What exactly are you thinking?”
“How about that theme park that’s across the bridge? I was reading about it. This weekend is the grand opening.”
“Coastline Adventures?” I ask, and River nods. “I saw it advertised. It looks like a blast.”
“Great. Let’s go. I need to blow off steam.” He holds out his hand, and I slip mine into his.
The drive to Coastline Adventures takes about forty-five minutes, and by the time we get there, River seems to have shaken off some of his earlier gloominess. The parking lot is packed with families and couples, and I can hear the screams and laughter of people on the rides even from here.
“Wow, this place is huge,” I say, looking up at the towering roller coaster that dominates the skyline.
River grins, and this time, his eyes crinkle. “Perfect. I want to ride everything.”
We buy our tickets and head inside. The first ride we hit is a spinning teacup ride that leaves us both dizzy and laughing. Then we move on to the bumper cars, where I discover River is surprisingly competitive.
“You’re going down, Jenkins!” he shouts as he rams his car into mine.
“Is that a challenge, Stone?” I call back, spinning my wheelto chase after him. I hit him twice, but he gets me three more times before the end of the ride.
After we climb out of the bumper cars, both of us grinning like kids, I spot a funnel cake stand. “Have you ever had one of those?”
“Never.”
