“Caleb, let’s go. We’re up.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” He climbed into a bucket, shaking it, leaning over the side, over the front, inspecting the rig.
He turned to the event staffer. “Is this thing safe?”
“As far as I know.” The tatted man squinted at Caleb through a twist of cigarette smoke. “Man up, bro, you got a pretty girl with you.”
“Hey, Caleb,” Emery said, “if you really don’t want to go—”
“Forget it. I’m in. I’m in. Let’s do this.” Caleb jiggled the metal bar locking them in. “Want to make sure it doesn’t come loose.”
When the wheel moved to fill the next bucket, Caleb closed his eyes, breathed deep, and white-knuckled the safety bar.
“Open your eyes,” she said. “Experience the thrill.”
“What happened to closing your piehole?”
“Wow, okay, I guess we’re—”
“Emery, please, I’m trying not to freak out and embarrass myself.” He tensed as the wheel rotated higher.
She regarded him for a moment. He was really and truly scared. She regretted goading him onto it now. With a slight hesitation, she gently set her hand on his jiggling leg.
It seemed like forever, but the ride finally started going round and round, up and down. Caleb stopped shaking his leg but jumped at every creak or squeak, clinging so hard to the safety bar he might have to take it home with him.
“This thing was built during the Roman conquest,” he muttered. “Listen, can you hear the bolts straining? Feel the swaying? Hey, we’re stopping. Why are we stopping?”
“To see the view.” Emery scooted closer and slipped her arm through his. “We can see the whole town from here. We’re higher than the Starlight sign, and I can see fishing boats way out there. Oooh, and the lights of the Sands and the Beachwalk and Sea Blue Way. It’s magical, Caleb.”
Suddenly, she felt him relax. “Everything looks so small,” he said.
“At home, in winter,” she said, “we can see all the way down the street. I never see Mrs. Myrtle pushing her husband’s wheelchair in the summer. Too many leaves. But in the winter, she takes him for a walk every morning. People don’t like hard things, or winter, but Mom says that’s when our perspective gets fine-tuned.”
“What do you see when the old lady pushes her husband down the street in winter?”
“Love.” Emery blushed and scooted away from Caleb. “I see true love.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Emery.”
“I certainly hope not. How would I be unique if there were a dozen of me?”
“I’m glad there’s only one of you.” His eyes searched hers as if he wanted to say something else. “Emery, can I—”
“Hey.” She flashed her white Serendiporama card. “We never looked at our fortunes.” She scooted another inch away from him. He was going to kiss her! “What does yours say? That you’re going to be a millionaire?”
Caleb read his card, making a face. “It says ‘Immanuel, God with us.’ That’s not a prediction, that’s the town motto.” He leaned toward Emery. “Read yours. Remember, if you get ‘Be a millionaire,’ we go halfsies.”
“Mine says...” She looked up at him. “‘Immanuel, God with us.’”
“You were right.” He reached for her card. “Serendiporama was rigged.”
“You seriously didn’t think a machine could predict your future, did you?”
Caleb ripped up the cards and tossed them into the wind, then shifted closer to Emery and clasped her hand in his as the wheel kicked into motion, slowly moving toward the ground.
After a moment, Emery exhaled and gently rested her head on his shoulder. She’d never been this close to a boy before. She’d only witnessed romance by watching her parents or friends at school—which was mostly drama and heartache.
Caleb felt like belonging. If this was love, it was the best feeling in the world.
