“We don’t have to wait,” Jamie says, light shining in his eyes. “Come on.”
I stay in place, not moving, and he looks back, eyebrows raised.
“Are you scared of roller coasters?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Then why is your voice trembling?”
“Because I’m cold?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Are you?”
Frenzied laughter-screaming echoes from the Cyclone, and my stomach drops.
“All right.” He sighs. “If you don’t want to do it—”
I’m brave.
“I’ll do it,” I interrupt. “It’s just that… it’s so fast. And it knocks you from side to side.”
He studies me. “We really don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I say firmly, and march toward the ticket booth, where a curly-haired woman with heart-shaped glasses greets us.
“Hello, what can I help you with?” she asks.
“Two of those ultimate wristbands, please,” Jamie says, and with one beep from his phone, she hands us our wristbands, and we put them on.
“Cyclone first?” Jamie nods toward the famous wooden roller coaster.
I eye it warily and wince when another bout of screaming reaches us. “Sure. Let’s get it over with.”
He looks like he’s fighting a laugh.
There are a couple of people in front of us. Jamie bounces on his feet while I try searching for anything that looks loose or wobbly, but aside from a slight trembling that has to do with physics it looks okay.
“You know, it was opened in 1927,” Jamie says. “Was made into a New York landmark in 1988.”
My stomach seizes. “That is a very long time ago. No one here was born then.”
“Pretty sure there are people alive from 1988.”
More screams. “Is it up to code? Why does it look so… worn down?”
“Definitely up to code. And I think that’s just the vibe. In 1977, for its fiftieth anniversary, some guy called Michael Boodley rode it one thousand and one times. And that was1977. They didn’t even haveBluetoothback then.”
“Uh-huh.” I hold on to the barrier for support. “Why are you parroting facts?”
He shrugs, hands in his pocket. “You know I like to research. I googled where we’re going and fell into a deep hole of facts on Wikipedia. We’re in the southwest part of Brooklyn. Right there is the Atlantic Ocean, whom we’ll say hello to after a couple of rides. Fun fact: Coney Island was first known as Konijn Island by the Dutch settlers because there were a lot of wild rabbits here.” He grimaces. “Not a fun fact because they killed them all.”
“Next!” one of the attendants working the Cyclone shouts, and the people in front of us rush forward. They check their bags and race to claim their seats.
Most of the red compartments are quickly filled, which leaves Jamie and me to take the one at the very back. He hops in, and I don’t know how he fits with his long legs, but he makes it work.
“Come on!” he calls to me, and I press my hands together.
I climb in slowly, clutching everything with a death grip.
