Trust the Focus by Megan Erickson Read Free Book Online Page B

amusement parks, eyes sparkling with the thought of throwing his arms in the air and screaming his heart out. But when we were in line, that moment before stepping into the padded seats, he sweated bullets.
    “I’m okay,” he said, biting his lip.
    “I don’t get it. You’re so excited and then turn into a stress ball in line.”
    Landry wiped his brow. “You know the moment the cars reach the top of the hill? And there is that second pause between when the track lets go and the coaster rumbles down the hill?”
    I nodded. My favorite part. That anticipation. As long as you endured the seconds when your stomach rose up in your throat, the euphoria at the bottom of the hill made it all worthwhile.
    He took a deep breath. “That pause freaks me out. I think, what if we go backward? Slide right down the way we came? And all that anticipation, that racing heartbeat as the cars climb . . . was all for nothing?”
    I frowned. “That wouldn’t happen, Lan. I mean, these things are built tough. Once you’re up, you don’t go back—”
    “But what if it did?” He was close to me now, having taken a step forward sometime in this conversation. His breath coasted over my face, warm and cinnamony from the fresh roasted peanuts we’d snagged that were currently warming my pocket. And I got the feeling we weren’t talking about roller coasters anymore.
    His wide blue eyes were locked on mine, darting back and forth, his lips parted and his body silently surging forward into mine, like he was egging me on to do something, say something.
    But I didn’t, like the coward I was. And then he leaned back, his face softened, and he laughed, waving a hand in the air.
    The moment was over.
    “Never mind, Jus. It’s cool. I just need to get this first ride over with and I’ll be fine.”
    I dropped the subject, hating myself but covering it with a laugh. Minutes later, we stepped onto the metal platform, sank into our seats, and pulled down the padded lap bar. Landry smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. The attendant ran swiftly down the line, making sure all the riders were locked in, and then we were off with a loud clang and a jerky start.
    I squirmed when we creaked up the hills and screamed as we careened down them. I laughed at Landry’s “Oh fucks!” and did some swearing of my own on a wicked curve.
    When we slammed to a stop at the end, Landry’s curls were all over the place, his eyes watery from the wind. His cheeks were flushed red and his lips bite-swollen.
    “Fun?” I asked as we stepped out of our seats, my voice hoarse from yelling.
    Landry’s smile was huge. “We didn’t go backward, so hell yeah.”
    “Let’s go on the Scrambler, puke our guts out, then eat lunch.”
    “Then pictures with guns.”
    “Christ. Fine, Landry.”
    He smiled, way too satisfied with himself. I didn’t tell him I’d shoot my own arm off to see that smile.
    ***
    We ate hot dogs and fries. I held the basket of fries under the ketchup pump and shot a glance at Landry, and he didn’t even flinch because he knew I wouldn’t actually do it. So my joke fell flat since all he did was roll his eyes.
    Then we ate deep-fried Snickers bars. Landry gobbled up a whole one, but I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. The first bite was heaven but then it all became too much, like how the first bite of a Pixy Stix is good. Then you get halfway through and realize you’re just eating sugar and it’s not so fun or tasty anymore.
    I gave the rest to Landry. So he upgraded to Landry 2.0 because of his sugar high. He bounced around, dragging me to the carnival-type games and squealed—yep, pretty much squealed—when he found the baseball game. I loved seeing him this happy and I vowed to do anything to keep him this way.
    I plunked down ten dollars for five balls and eyed the six bottles I had to knock down. The ball in my hand wasn’t a regulation-size baseball and the weight was off as I juggled it. I felt stupid standing there in an