“That’s the worst humble-brag I’ve ever heard.”
“Thank you. I’ve been practicing.”
“What about the Gravitron?”Nathan asks some time later, pointing toward a massive spinning disk of a ride whirling so fast it blurs the people inside into streaks of color.
“Yes!” Gerard pumps his fist. “I’ve always wanted to try that!”
Alex eyes the ride with trepidation. “It’s spinning really, really fast.”
“That’s the point!” Gerard moves toward the queue. “You stand against the wall, and the centrifugal force pins you there!”
“It’s a recipe for vomiting,” Kyle mutters, but he follows anyway because Alex is following Gerard, and Kyle goes wherever Alex goes.
The operator gives us the most perfunctory safety speech I’ve ever heard. “Stand against the wall. Don’t move. Don’t throw up. Have fun.”
We take our positions around the chamber. I end up between Ryan and Gerard, with Drew and Jackson across from us. Kyle has positioned himself next to Alex, one hand already braced protectively on the panel beside him.
The ride spins slowly before quickly picking up speed. The panels tilt backward, and I feel the first press of centrifugal force against my chest.
“This is fine,” Ryan says, though his voice sounds slightly strained.
The world outside the chamber blurs into a wash of light and color through the small windows. The force increases, pressing me harder against the panel until it’s difficult to lift my arms.
“THIS IS AMAZING!” Gerard shouts from beside me, his voice distorted by thespin.
I turn my head—which takes considerable effort—and see Ryan plastered against his panel, eyes wide, and a strange expression on his face that hovers somewhere between terror and exhilaration.
“You okay?” I manage to call out.
“I can’t move my face!”
The ride reaches its peak speed, and for a moment, we’re all pinned like butterflies to a display board. I can see Drew across from me, grinning maniacally. Jackson is trying to lift Derek the penguin and failing. Elliot appears mildly inconvenienced.
And Kyle…fuck. Kyle’s face has become the color of unripe avocados as the ride continues its relentless spin.
“I think Kyle’s going to be sick,” Alex calls out, his voice thin with worry.
“I’m fine,” Kyle grits out, but he very clearly is not fine.
A few minutes later, the ride slows. The force gradually releases, and we peel ourselves off the panels one by one. Kyle is the first one out, shoving past the operator and stumbling toward the exit with a hand clamped over his mouth.
He makes it approximately fifteen feet before he doubles over and vomits spectacularly into a trash can.
“Oh no,” Alex says, rushing after him.
“Oh yes,” Drew says, pulling out his phone. “This is going on Facebook.”
“Drew.” Jackson grabs his arm. “Don’t.”
“But—”
“He will kill you.”
“Worth it.”
Kyle is hunched over the trash can when we catch up. Alex rubs small circles on his back while murmuring something too quiet to hear. The rest of us maintain a respectful distance, partly out of concern and partly because the sounds Kyle is making are genuinely horrifying.
“I told you,” Kyle gasps between heaves. “I told you this was a bad idea.”
