Life's Golden Ticket by Brendon Burchard Read Free Book Online Page B

also screaming for Todd to sit.
    â€œHi, Mommy!” Todd screamed.
    â€œ Todd! ” someone screamed below me. I looked down. It was the two kids’ father, Jim. He and Linda looked up in horror.
    I glanced back to the operator and saw him slam a big red button.
    The ride jolted and slowed.
    â€œ NO! ”

    T odd’s feet dangled just a few yards above and out from me. Mary was leaning over the safety bar, desperately trying to grab him. She had managed to get a handful of his shirt when he lost his balance and went over the safety bar.
    â€œToddy, I got you!” she cried.
    â€œMary, don’t lemme go!” he wailed back. He had one hand on the bottom of the cart and was frantically trying to reach up with his other hand.
    And then he lost his grip. His shirt tore away.
    The crowd below screamed and scattered.

    I watched his mother cradle him in her arms, rocking him back and forth.
    â€œNo!” she cried. “Not my baby . . . not my baby . . . please no . . . not my baby!”
    Jim looked up toward his daughter, still leaning over the safety bar, still holding the scrap of Todd’s shirt. “Mary,” he called out, “what have you done?”
    The Ferris wheel lurched again and stopped when Mary’s cart reached the bottom. The operator’s face was pained as he lifted the safety bar and let her out. She walked slowly down the platform’sstairs and toward her parents, through the crowd, which parted before her as she walked. She stood helplessly as the paramedics pulled her mother away from Todd’s limp body.
    I buried my face in my hands. “ No more! ”
    Henry gently touched my shoulder.
    â€œWhy? Why are you showing me this?”
    Henry whispered, “Sometimes we forget that everyone has important moments in their life—happenings that forever affect them. This was one of the stories you forgot about every time you called Mary a ‘control freak.’”
    I looked at Henry, horrified.
    He continued. “Could it be there’s a reason she always tried to get you to behave in a certain way, to follow the rules?”
    The ride kicked on again, and our cart swayed forward to the bottom position. Henry lifted the safety arm and stood up. “Sometimes we forget other people’s stories. Sometimes we even forget our own. It’s time you were reminded of a few of the most important ones.”
    Henry lowered the bar across my lap, walked off the platform, and stood next to the wizard.
    The wizard lifted his arm, and the ride lurched into motion. I watched his arm move faster, the ride moving with it. He circled faster and faster, and the light from his arm grew brighter and brighter. The ride began to squeal with noise as it spun. Faster. I grabbed hold of the safety bar. Faster. The wind rushed against my face. Faster. The view became blurred. Faster. The ride started to shake and shudder.
    Too fast! Stop!
    Suddenly I felt as if the ride was at normal speed again, but the view around me was still spinning and blurred and muddy, as if everything else were moving at a hundred miles an hour.
    And then images started to appear against the dark, blurred backdrop: scenes from Mary’s life.
    She’s at her brother’s funeral, standing next to her mom and dad. No one is holding her hand.
    She’s in high school now, and a girl screams at her, “Ugly brace-face!”
    She’s sitting at a restaurant table, and her first fiancé says, “I’m seeing someone else.”
    She’s at another dinner table, arguing with me now over a visit to her parents, and I say, “Why should we go? They don’t seem to like you anyway.”
    The backdrop changes to the color of cotton candy.
    Mary is playing with her brother on their front lawn.
    Mary’s mother is teaching her to play the piano.
    Mary’s dad is holding her hand and swinging her up and down as they walk into an ice cream shop.
    Mary