Page 141 of Pansies

“I remember everything, Alfie Bell. I remember the way your hips moved with the rise and fall of the platforms. I remember the way the muscles would bunch under your skin when you pushed the cars round. I remember how wildly the girls would scream for you and how much I envied them.”

“I really loved it, Fen. I mean, not the girls screaming. Walking the Waltzers. I was only going round in circles, but I felt so free.”

“You looked it.”

“Wait here a moment, will you?”

Fen yipped and latched on. “You’re going to leave me aloneon my own in the dark? I’ll probably be murdered. By evil clowns.”

“I’ll be less than a minute. There’s no clowns, evil or otherwise. And this would be a crap place for generic murderers to hang out because it’s a closed-down fairground in the middle of the night—really low foot traffic for murdering.”

“I’d be reassured if it didn’t sound like you’d thought about this so much.”

It was hard to tell in the dark but… “Are you taking the piss?”

“Maybe.”

“Right. Stay here. And if you get murdered, you’ll totally deserve it.”

“I probably will get murdered,” Fen called after him. “By irony.”

Lighting his way with his mobile phone, Alfie scrambled onto the Waltzers and made his way through the cars to the central booth. He’d borrowed the key from Fowler—the bloke who owned the ride, and thankfully still remembered him—that afternoon. Got his permission, since getting arrested wasn’t quite the evening he had in mind. The lights on their own were even more startling than he remembered, bright as a neon fairyland, gold and purple and pink. He fired up the ride—lowest setting—and stepped down from the booth onto the now rolling platforms.

For a moment, he panicked, not sure how to move and convinced he was going to fall. But his body remembered—how to adjust his stance, distribute his weight, move with the motion—and he made it easily enough across the cars and back to Fen.

That was when this memory hit him out of nowhere. He’d fallen once. Long after he’d got the hang of it. A summer day, just like any other, a group of friends climbing into one of the carts, the usual excited babble, a few flirtatious, hopeful glancesto earn his attention. And a boy, his face long forgotten, but a boy and a smile, and suddenly everything spinning the wrong way, including Alfie. Followed by a pratfall. Fowler hoisting him under his armpits, getting him back on his feet.“Happens to the best of us,” he’d said, “and always right in front of a pretty girl, am I right?”Alfie had laughed. Nodded. And never thought of it again.

Until now. Looking into Fen’s dazzled face.

“Oh, Alfie.”

He held out his hand with a flourish. “Your carriage awaits. I’ll teach you how to walk ’em.”

“It looks a lot scarier up close.” But, still, Fen let himself be drawn forward.

Actually, he had a point. It was more difficult on the outside. Alfie darted back into the centre, stopped the ride, and beckoned Fen over to the booth. After a moment of hesitation, Fen came, stepping as warily as a gazelle over the platforms.

“I’ve seen you running over deadly seaweed rocks,” Alfie said. “Sitting on the edge of crumbly cliffs. You’re going to be fine.”

“Maybe you just want an excuse to make me cling to you and scream.”

Alfie gave him a look. “I need an excuse for that?”

Fen was a jewelled rainbow under the Waltzer lights, but Alfie was sure he blushed. “All right, how do I do this?”

He nipped into the booth to get the ride going again. “Well, when you’re ready, step onto one of the platforms. Walk against the spin, but let your body move with it.”

“Like dancing?”

“Yeah…I guess so. Also, look at the platforms, not the ground, and basically, keep going. And when you want to step off, just do it, don’t dither and second-guess yourself. I’ll be with you all the way.” He glanced at Fen’s pale, slightly trembling hands. “Oh,and take your ring off. Just in case it catches on something. You probably like having all your fingers.”

Fen said nothing for a long moment before he slowly unwound the band of green wire from his fourth finger and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. Then he looked straight at Alfie. “Okay.”

“Well, then. Whenever you feel ready, just relax and step—Oh.”

Fen was gone. Whisked away by the Waltzers like leaves on the wind. Alfie dived after him, jumping across the platforms until he caught up. But he’d worried about nothing. Fen was fine, calm, graceful as a reed, his hair flying like a flag.

“Man,” he gasped, “you scared the crap out of me.”

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