RYE PLAYLAND
Sunday, October 4th
11:16 A.M.
Kristen shot up from the floor of the Blocks’ Range Rover and slumped down on the tan leather seat. She unzipped her slim-fit black hoodie dress, revealing the top of a red-and-white striped tank. “Sporty, yet sophisticated, right?”
“Bravo.” Massie golf-clapped. “The House of H&M has done it again.”
Kristen’s smile faded. How did she always know?
“Just rate me, okay?”
Each girl held up eight fingers.
“Not bad for H&M.” Kristen balled up her mom-approved “I’ll be at the library all day studying” sweats and stuffed them in her READING IS FUNDAMENTAL tote.
“Can we puh-lease get out of the car now?” Alicia smoothed her too-fancy-for-an-amusement-park emerald green off-the-shoulder satin blouse. “We’ve been in the back of this lot for fifteen minutes.” She crossed her oil-slicked legs, which looked like two glow sticks thanks to a pair of dark denim short shorts.
“Yeah, I have to pee.” Dylan squirmed.
“And I told Cam we were here.” Claire pressed one of the pen-drawn hearts on her red Converse. “What if—”
“What if what,Kuh-laire?” Massie lowered her white Ray-Bans. “What if Cam has to live without you for a few minutes? What if you have to hang out with your friends a little longer? What if—”
“What if Dempsey goes inside without us and we can’t get in!” Claire snapped.
Massie consulted the clock on her iPhone. “Okay, Isaac,” she called to her driver. “Let’s move.”
He dropped them at the park’s entrance where, thankfully, the Tomahawks, Dune, Layne, Twizzler, and McNugget were still waiting.
“Perfectly late.” Massie stepped out of the Range Rover, more than pleased with herself.
“Heyyy,” Dempsey wave-called, looking confidently relaxed in khaki cargo shorts, a long-sleeve hooded vintage FREE NELSON MANDELA tee, and beat-up flip-flops.
Crisp fall air rolled off the Long Island Sound, raising the hair on Kristen’s arms. Or was it Dempsey’s welcoming smile?
“I wasn’t sure if you guys were going to come,” he said with a relieved smile.
“Oh no.” Massie widened her amber eyes. “Were you waiting long?”
In the background, Layne whispered something to Dune and he chuckled. Kristen’s insides warmed. Dune and her secret BFF were getting along! But the warmth quickly turned to longing. And then anger. Why couldn’t the Pretty Committee be that accepting of Layne? Why did she have to hide their friendship? And why wasn’t she more excited to see Dune? Was it because she knew he wouldn’t like her friends? Or was it something else?
“Ready?” Dempsey called, fanning out a stack of free-admission coupons.
“Yeaaaah!” everyone shouted.
He led the group though the turnstiles, fist-pounding the fish-scented breeze.
Massie and Layne scurried to the front, each jockeying to secure a place beside him.
“Ooof!” Layne stopped suddenly, the metal bar cutting across the top of her super-high-waisted yellow jeans.
“Y’okay?” Kristen mumbled into the back of Layne’s head.
Layne nodded, her flushed cheeks fading back to pale.
She was grateful Layne tolerated their secret friendship and even more grateful that she believed it was solely to preserve the Witty Committee, rather than the real reason: to preserve Kristen’s popularity.
“Dude, the log flume!” Cam smacked Claire playfully on the arm once they were inside the park.
“Owie!” Claire smacked him back. Seconds later they were engaged in a nauseatingly adorable fake fight that made everyone around them want to beat them up for real.
“Yeah!” Josh Hotz pushed back the brim of his navy New York Yankees cap. “Ready to get soaked?” He knocked Alicia’s pink cap off her head.
“I am, but my blouse isn’t.” She pinched the silk.
“Wear this.” Josh unzipped his black-and-white checked Billabong hoodie and tossed it to her.
Alicia sniffed the sleeve. “Polo Double Black! I heart that.”
Cam pulled the foursome toward the ride, leaving the others to choke on their love dust.
“Look, a caricature artist!” Twizzler shout-pointed at a crusty old man in a blue beret. “Who wants to do it? We can use the drawings for our yearbook pictures.” He giggle-snorted.
McNugget and a few of the LBR soccer players raced to his side.
“Layne, you coming?” he called.
Layne looked at Dempsey, whose flip-flops were planted firmly on the gum-stained pavement.
“Nah,” she answered. “I’ll probably go for something in oils.”
“First one there goes first!” Twizzler called. Instantly, he and his gang took off for the splintering easel.
“His yearbook picture is going to look like a thin piece of licorice,” Massie joked.
Everyone laughed except Dune and Layne.
“Who wants to try Super Flight?” Derrington asked. “It drops to zero gravity and you experience weightlessness.”
“Weightlessness?” Dylan pressed her glossy lips into a sticky puff of cotton candy that she’d just bought. “Sounds good to me,” she said, a pink feathery beard dangling from her chin.
“Let’s go!” Derrington shouted, speed-limping away before anyone had a chance to respond. Oddly, Dylan was the only one who followed.
“Who wants to try the Dragon Coaster?” Dempsey called.
“Me!” Massie and Layne called at the same time. In a show of support, Kristen and Dune joined them.
Crisp wind blew off the Sound, stinging Kristen’s cheeks and tornadoing loneliness through her heart. Bitter cold days and dark afternoons were right around the corner, and with them always came the hollow feeling of emptiness. She lifted her hood and then smiled at Dune. Maybe this winter would be different.
“I can’t believe she calls that guy a Twizzler!” he whispered.
“Who?” Kristen asked even though she knew.
Dune lifted his chin, gesturing toward Massie, who was up ahead with Dempsey and Layne. “Why is she so mean?”
Kristen debated giving one of the following explanations:
A) She thinks it’s funny.
B) She feels better about herself when she puts other people down.
C) Puh-lease! She wasn’t serious. Where’s your sense of humor?
D) Get used to it.
E) Why do you hate her so much? Gawd! Can’t you just stop being so judgmental and right all the time and just have some fun?!!!
But all Kristen said was, “I’ll show you mean. Last one to the white fence outside the Dragon Coaster rides alone!”
Everyone took off in a mad dash. Sounds of tromping feet and giggle-gasping circled Kristen’s head like a space helmet. Still, anything was better than hearing her own thoughts. Because on her first day out after being grounded, Kristen didn’t want to think about her crush not liking her best friend. That kind of stress was easier to deal with during the week, when her mind was tweezer-sharp. Today all she wanted was stomach butterflies and a little weakness in the knees. And if she had to run to get them, then so be it.
“First!” Kristen whacked the sign.
“Second!” Dune shout-panted. Whoever finished after him didn’t matter. Massie was no longer their topic of conversation. And that was all she wanted.
“I guess this means we’re sitting together.” Dune smiled shyly as the rest of their friends ran up behind them.
Kristen slid the shark tooth across its leather strap, tilted her head, and nodded yes.
“You know”—Dune flicked the necklace—“I’ve never let anyone else wear that.”
“Really?” Kristen grinned, waiting to feel that dipping-roller-coaster feeling in her stomach. Only it didn’t come. The snaking dragon car hissed to a stop on the wooden track. Everyone raced for the front. Dempsey was in the lead until Layne pushed past Massie and grabbed the hood of his FREE NELSON MANDELA tee, stop-choking him in his path.
“What are you doing?” He pulled the cotton noose away from his thyroid.
“Um, did you drop this?” She held out a crushed box of raisins.
“No.” Dempsey coughed. “I think it’s yours.” He pointed at the black pruney swag wedged between her incisors.
“Oh.” Layne picked it out with the corner of the box. “You’re right.” She squeezed into the car beside him. But before she could sit, Massie yanked her out.
“’Scuse me, Layne, are you a fisherman?”
“No, why?”
“Then why are you cutting the line?” She sat down beside Dempsey and lowered the black padded bar.
“Did you see that?” Kristen gasped from a few cars back.
“What?” Dune ran a hand through his matted long hair.
“Nothing,” mumbled Kristen, unsure whether she was reacting to Massie’s victory or Layne’s defeat—or simply the realization that no matter how this ended someone was going to be devastated.
“You stole my seat!” Layne shouted, looking around for some sort of authority figure. But the person in charge was an eighteen-year-old boy with an eyebrow piercing, a shaved head, and a tattoo of Barack Obama on the back of his skull. A thick layer of stubble covered the president, making him look like a pubescent werewolf.
“Take the car behind them,” the boy mumble-guided Layne into the available seat. “Any singles want to ride with her?”
Everyone on line shook their heads no.
“That’s not fair! She stole my seat!”
The guy lowered the bar over her flailing arms and moved on.
Layne kicked the back of Massie’s seat. “You are sooo dead!”
But the alpha giggled at Dempsey, refusing to acknow-l-edge her.
Layne hate-tossed her raisins at the back of Massie’s head. “Fine with me!” She pulled a falafel sandwich out of her SUNSHINE TOURS tote and jammed it in her mouth like a competitive eater. “Enjoy the ride!” She speed-chewed.
“You think he knows they’re fighting over him?” Kristen whispered to Dune.
“If he does, he’s playing it super cool.”
Kristen settled into her seat with a satisfied smile. She could tell Dune anything. And if that wasn’t the sign of a good crush, she didn’t know what was.
With a sudden jerk, the car creaked into motion like an old man getting up to lower the volume on his antiquated television. Still, the people in the back screamed anyway. As the train climbed the tracks to the first hill, Kristen’s head fell against the back of her seat—not so much from the gravitational pull as the anxiety weighting down her brain. When they careened down the hill, would Dune . . .
A) Hold her hand?
B) Offer a protective hug?
C) A & B?
or . . .
D) Smack her on the arm like a surf buddy and shout,
“Stand up!” 
“What?” Kristen shouted back, not wanting to believe it.
“Stand up!” Dune gripped her elbow and lifted Kristen into a squat.
“I don’t want tooooooooooooooo!” she yelled as they shot down at stomach-roiling speed.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” everyone shrieked.
Kristen fought to keep her balance in a position usually used for pooing outdoors.
Like Leo on the bow of the Titanic, Dune’s hair was blowing and his arms were wide, embracing all of nature’s goodness in this moment meant just for him. “Riiiiiiide it!”
Three cars ahead, Dempsey’s arms were wrapped around Massie, and her face was buried in his chest. A sudden shock of jealousy bolted through Kristen. She wished Dune would put his arm around her like that, instead of making her crouch-stand next to him. For a second she imagined herself leaping from head to head, car to car, like a frog in a lily pond until she got close enough to tear them apart. But why? Was she that sympathetic toward Layne? That able to feel the heartache of the people she loved? Compassionate to a dangerous degree? Kristen was about to check on Layne when everything went dark. The car shot into a tunnel, amplifying their screams and distorting their senses. Was this how blind kids felt on Halloween?
“Whooo-hooooo!” Dune finally let go of his grip, allowing Kristen to fall back in her seat and massage her burning quads.
All of a sudden, a giant hand of sunshine smacked her in the eyes. The car was back outside, soaring and sinking over a series of mini-hills.
Up ahead, Layne was leaning forward, straining her head as if trying to tell Massie a secret.
And then, like an unplugged fire hydrant, a rush of bile-soaked falafel sprayed from her mouth.
Massie slumped forward like a hunchback, too disgusted to move. Finally, she tried to turn around, but the car whipped around the tracks so forcefully she got slammed against the side. Dempsey managed to ask Layne if she was okay. She replied with an enthusiastic head-nod and two thumbs-up.
Kristen smacked Dune’s leg repeatedly, trying to show him the spectacle. But he was standing again, and didn’t seem to notice.
Finally, the car click-clacked to a stop and everyone stopped screaming, except Massie.
“I am so suing you!” She peeled off her ivory, now-falafel-flavored cashmere cardigan and whipped it onto the track.
“Sorry.” Layne grimaced. “I just feel-afel.”
“Here.” Dempsey handed Layne his canteen without the slightest concern for puke-chunk backwash.
“Keep that LBR away from me,” Massie hissed in Kristen’s ear as they stepped onto the wooden platform.
“Me?” Kristen asked feeling slightly wobbly. “How am I—”
“Nike!” Massie insisted.
“Huh?”
“Just do it!” she hissed.
The deck shook with the stampede of new people rushing to claim their seats.
“What am I supposed to do with her?”
“I dunno.” Massie stomped her foot. “Just think of—”
“See ya!” Layne shouted from the back of the dragon’s tail. She and Dempsey were seated thigh to thigh as a padded bar lowered across their chests.
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Massie made her way toward them.
The pierced guy stopped her with the handle of his mop. “There’s a line!”
“Well, she didn’t wait in it!”
He lowered the wood lever, starting the ride. “Pukers coast again. Plus one.” He shrugged. “Park policy.”
“Well, what do I get?”
“Whaddaya want?” He raised his pierced eyebrow, implying himself.
“Ew, nawt that.” Massie turned on her heel.
“There’s gotta be something I can do to make you feel better.” He rubbed his stubbly head.
“It’s too late, thanks to her.” She pointed at Kristen and then stormed off.
Kristen stood on the platform, stiff with shock. How had this become her fault? She could feel Dune’s eyes on her. Waiting for her to speak? Searching for something to say? Plotting Massie’s demise?
The car rolled back into the loading area.
“Awwww, you waited for us?” Layne gushed, as Dempsey unwrapped himself from her protective hold.
Kristen tried to smile, her mouth twitching like a dying worm.
“What’s wrong?” Dempsey lifted the bar and stepped onto the platform. He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “You look like you lost your best friend.”
“She did,” Dune chuckled with amusement. But Kristen failed to see the humor. In fact, she failed to see anything. Her vision blurred instantly with tears.