Carousel Nights by Amie Denman Read Free Book Online

apart the turnstile.”
    A boy who appeared to be fifteen years old raised his head when June and the two firefighters walked up the steps to the loading platform. Lanky and blond, the kid wore the summer uniform of basketball shorts and a Pistons T-shirt.
    The Silver Streak was silent, summer workers standing around watching the spectacle. The boy whose leg was trapped grimaced in pain while two ride operators held him in the air above the three-pronged silver arms of the turnstile. His leg was twisted at a terrible angle.
    June’s knee hurt just looking at the kid’s leg. There’s no pain like knee pain . Before she could ask the boy what happened, the rear entrance of the Silver Streak opened and Mel strode through. His long legs flashed and he carried a huge tool bag slung over his shoulder. He made brief eye contact with June and the two firefighters and drilled in on the mechanical problem.
    â€œDid you try to jump over it?” Mel asked the kid, a reassuring smile on his face.
    â€œUh-huh,” the boy replied.
    â€œLooks like you almost made it, but I don’t recommend trying it again.”
    Why on earth would someone try to jump over a turnstile? Boys . The kid was paying for his stupidity now, though. And how did he get stuck like that? Apparently, his foot didn’t clear the arms of the silver turnstile as he tried to jump it. His shoe hooked, the arms locked, and he was trapped.
    â€œMy knee is broken,” the boy whined.
    â€œYou can’t really break your knee,” Martin said. “But that’s gotta hurt.”
    Martin slid an arm under the skinny teen and held him up. Both ride operators scooted back, obviously happy to be relieved of the sweaty and miserable victim of the turnstile.
    â€œI’ll hold him up if you can slide the leg out,” Martin told his partner.
    â€œCan’t. The arm locked a notch back and the angle...” He didn’t finish the sentence, but June knew what he meant. This was going to be a painful lesson for the kid, and he would never want to look at a turnstile again, much less jump over one to impress his friends.
    Mel knelt and examined the boy’s leg and the mechanical operation of the machine. He wiped sweat from his brow. June imagined him racing to get here in the maintenance scooter, which was probably parked under the platform. Starlight Point was surrounded by a road informally called the outer loop which offered multiple gates into the park. These gates were always locked and used only by maintenance and security, but they provided quick access when necessary without driving vehicles on the park’s midways. Only the onsite fire department drove on the midways during park operating hours, and only if it was really necessary.
    â€œI think we can get his leg out if we take it apart,” Mel said. “I brought a bunch of tools.”
    â€œYou can’t take my leg apart,” the kid cried.
    â€œNo,” Mel assured him. “We’re taking the machine apart. I don’t cut up legs. Not in my job description.”
    June glanced around, hoping no one was taking cell phone video or pictures of this. Ride closed, line empty, upset friends and armed security standing by. Two girls and one boy, probably friends of the kid locked in the turnstile, stood on the platform talking to one of the ride operators and watching anxiously. At least they don’t have their cell phones out.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” Mel asked the boy as he knelt underneath him and started to remove the weathered blue metal shields on the turnstile.
    â€œJason.”
    â€œFirst time at Starlight Point?”
    The boy shook his head. “We live in Bayside and come all the time.”
    â€œFirst time jumping over a turnstile?”
    Jason shook his head and lowered his eyes. His flushed face got even more red.
    â€œFirst time not making it over?” Mel asked.
    Jason nodded and made eye contact, a tiny