She held her phone for a moment, studying her contact list. There was literally nobody to call. Caitlin and Destiny were out of the question. Tyler was still in Silver Lake, probably with @silvergurl.
There was one person, actually. But he probably didn’t want to hear from her: she’d burned that bridge before construction had even begun.
The bad men, the bad men, the bad men.
He answered on the first ring.
“Hey,” she said, all cautious. “Sorry about how I acted at the casino. I—I had some things on my mind. I wasn’t myself.” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Anyway. I’m taking my sister and her friend to Canobie Lake and I was thinking it might be more fun to have somebody who’s not, like, eleven, there to keep me company, so is there any chance you’re free today and want to come?”
She said all of that without taking a breath; she exhaled and waited in an agony of regret, chastising herself. She shouldn’t have called. He’d never want to go.
“No apologies necessary, Alexa,” said Cam. “I would love to accompany you to Canobie Lake.” She could practicallyhearhimsmiling. “The Boston Tea Party? The Yankee Cannonball? I love that place.”
She and Morgan collected Katie on Olive Street, then headed back out to Turkey Hill for Cam, then hit the highway.
Morgan, for all of her general timidity toward the outside world, was positively fearless when it came to amusement park rides—when she was younger she used to stand on tiptoe to meet the requisite height minimum for the roller coasters—and she and Katie spent most of the drive to the park on their phones, looking through Canobie’s Web site so Morgan could tell Katie what was what. Wipeout was overrated. The pirate ship was only worthwhile if you were at either end. The Corkscrew Coaster was more jarring than scary, but Starblaster was pretty good. Yankee Cannonball was old-fashioned but fun, and the newest roller coaster, Untamed, was the best.
Here Cam turned from the front seat to deliver a history lesson on how the Yankee Cannonball was the oldest continuously running wooden roller coaster in the country and how it was moved in 1936 from Waterbury, Connecticut, and how they had to shorten each section by six inches to get it into the space where it now resided. Alexa glanced in the rearview mirror, expecting to see the girls’ eyes glazing over with boredom, but instead they both seemed riveted. They were staring at Cam like he was solving for them the riddle of the Sphinx, and Alexa remembered that these girls were young and neither one had an older brother or a father. The attention of a fairly charming and, it should be noted, pretty good-looking example of the male species was probably exotic enough to be entrancing.
Once inside the park, a wave of nostalgia washed over Alexa. She still had a photo of herself with Destiny and Caitlin standingin front of the Boston Tea Party at about the age Morgan and Katie were now, when life was easier to navigate. Their T-shirts were soaked—you got positivelydousedon the Boston Tea Party—and they were smiling hard, with the July sunlight glinting off their braces.
Of course the girls wanted to go off on their own. Alexa hesitated, thinking about the bad men. She glanced around. The park was getting crowded.
“They’ll be okay,” Cam said. “I mean, if you’re worried, we can stay with them. But I think they’ll be fine.” He was wearing a St. Michael’s baseball cap, but other than that he was surprisingly, refreshingly free of spirit wear.
Morgan said, “Pleeeeeasssse,” and practically went down on her knees on the asphalt to beg, and Katie gave Alexa puppy dog eyes.
“Okay,” said Alexa finally. “But if anybody bothers you, you scream as loud as you can, got it?” Morgan opened her mouth as if to demonstrate and Alexa said, “Not now! Only if somebody bothers you.”
She took a photo of the girls together just inside the entrance, so she’d know what they were wearing in case anything untoward happened, and she gave them each ten dollars for when they needed snacks. She made them promise to check in with her by phone every twenty minutes. When she and Cam spotted them by the giant swings, they trailed them for a few minutes to make sure no creep-os were bothering them. Then they got in line for the Caterpillar.
If she was being honest, Alexa didn’t mind it when, just as the canopy cover to the Caterpillar was going up, obscuring them from each other’s view, the centrifugal force threw Cam practically on top of her. But in general she was keeping it platonic, andCam was too. He was good company, and the girls were reliable about checking in, and the time flew by, and every now and then Alexa even managed to forget about the bad men.
They met up for a late lunch with the girls in the early afternoon. When Morgan’s vanilla twist toppled from the cone and onto the ground, Cam was back in the line, buying her a replacement, before a single tear had time to form. Morgan looked at Cam not only like he hung the moon but like he was also responsible for both the Big and Little Dippers, and, when they’d finished their ice cream, they parted ways again.
As Katie and Morgan headed back to the Yankee Cannonball, Alexa pointed to the teacups. “Want to try these?” she asked Cam.
Cam grimaced. “I’m not great with the rides that go around and around,” he said.
“Aw, come on,” she begged. “You did the Caterpillar.”
“That’s different,” he countered. “There’s something about the things that go individually around that get to me.”
Alexa remembered going on the teacup ride with Peter when she was really young, maybe eight or nine, and Morgan was small enough to be pushed around in a rent-a-stroller. “Please? They don’t go very fast at all. And we can control them individually. Look! There are, like, four-year-olds on there.” It was true.
“Okay,” Cam said, relenting. “For you, Alexa Thornhill. Only for you.”
In point of fact the teacups spun faster than Alexa remembered, and, contrary to what she thought, the riders didnotcontrol the spin. The ride seemed to go on for a semester and a half. Alexa loved the feeling—she even found herself emitting an out-of-character whoop—but when she caught sight of Cam’s expression she thought she might have gone too far. Queasy was an understatement.
Finally the teacups stopped. Cam was still holding on to the center wheel. His head was bowed.
“Sorry,” she said. “Too spinny?” They were the last ones left in a teacup, and the ride operator was looking at them sternly.
“A little too spinny.” He looked up; his face had taken on a greenish tint. “A little too spinny after eating. I’m just going to—” He pointed toward a trash can, unable to finish his sentence, and hightailed it out of the cup. Alexa got herself out, located Cam’s back near the trash can and turned away, to give him privacy. But then a good amount of time passed. Not just seconds, definitely minutes. She wondered if he was okay. She turned back to the trash can and didn’t see him. She checked out the game booths. She looked in the line for the lemonade stand. Then she spotted him, over by the line for the junior sports cars. Cam was more than okay. He was smiling and laughing. He was in an animated conversation with... Shelby McIntyre.
Alexa walked closer. Shelby was back from Africa, apparently; she was overseeing a day camp field trip. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing a T-shirt that saidcounseloron it in block letters.
“Hey,” she said. “I couldn’t find you, Cam. Hi, Shelby.”
