Page 7 of Run to Me
Nate starts the car and quickly pulls out of the parking lot. I hold on to the side of the door, closing my eyes as he speeds up then swerves a little as he takes the first turn. He got his license recently, and riding with him makes me nervous because he’s got a lot more learning to do. At least he’s driving; I’m still trying to get used to riding in cars. My stomach hasn’t stopped feeling uneasy since the first time, because when I said I never left the house with my dad, I meant it. I took the bus to school the one year I went, but it was so long ago it remains a blur. The bus doesn’t bother me, though. My dad didn’t make deliveries by bus. My breaths quicken and I squeeze my legs together.
“Am I going too fast?”
I don’t say anything and look down at the floorboard. He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, brother. I’ll slow down.”
He gives me a sense of importance when he calls me that. For a little while, I feel like I belong. The car slows and my shoulders drop, my stomach settling a little when I see lit-up rides ahead. “We’re getting close.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, pulling into the cramped parking lot.
There are a lot of people here. My throat goes dry when the car stops. “It’s a bit crowded.”
“Don’t worry about them. We’re here for you, remember?”
“Yeah.” I wait for him to walk over to open my door before getting out.
“Shall we go straight to the Ferris wheel?”
“Sure,” I say, glancing around, feeling a little overwhelmed.
“Or we can go back to the car.” He loops his arm in mine, leaning into my body.
I shake my head. “I’d rather be here than at home. My mind is spinning out of control and I need to keep busy or else it’ll take over.”
“Then let’s find something that’ll make you focus on the world spinning instead.” He drags me to the ticket booth and purchases two bracelets. Laughter and excited screams surround us as he drags me to a short line of people. They all enter a gate leading to purple pod-looking things.
“What is this?”
“You’ll see.” We walk forward and he grabs my hand to hold up my wrist. A man who was collecting tickets before nods at us and gestures for us to keep moving. We stop when we finally come across an empty ride. I slide in first and Nate squeezes in beside me, placing his hands on a black wheel in the center. I put my hands next to his and he crosses our arms bumping shoulders with me. “When the ride starts, we have to spin the wheel as hard and fast as we can.”
We move slowly at first and speed up as we loop around. Going faster and faster, we crash against each other, struggling to sit up straight. Metal scraping metal mixes with loud wind and our laughter. Our hands occasionally land on each other as we spin the wheel. He’s right. I’m too focused on my racing heart and jump in my stomach to think about anything else. His face lands in my neck and he leaves it there, his hands staying on mine until the ride ends.
“Sorry, got a little dizzy and you make a good headrest.”
“Can we go again?” I ask, staying exactly where I am while everyone else exits the ride.
“We can go as many times as you want.”
My stomach flutters, and I don’t understand what this feeling is but I’m not ready to walk away from it. I realize it’s not theride taking me away from everything bad that happened today—it’s him.
We ride the spinning saucers five more times before finally making our way to the Ferris wheel. Being so high above the ground feels better than I thought it would. I’m far away from other people’s judgment and don’t have to worry whether anyone will recognize me. I’m far away from my aunt and the restaurant. Far away from my dad and our basement. It’s only me and Nate.
I don’t enjoy the carousel as much as the flying swings. I also worry I’m consuming way too much sugar between all the rides with the copious amounts of stuffed Oreos, cotton candy, and funnel cake I consume.
“I think my stomach is going to combust if I eat any more.”
Nate laughs, squeezing his new pink bear that I won him. He looks so small holding it, with it being half his size. A quick breeze blows his hair away from his face and I notice the light pink scar there for the very first time. He could have a million of them on his face and still be beautiful.
“What happened there?” I sweep my fingers over the scar.
“Fell off my cousin’s bunk beds when I was six. Hit the bottom bed frame pretty hard and had to get stitches.”
Him telling me something about himself makes me want to suddenly give him something in return. “I hate chamomile tea.” My dad made it for every guy he brought home when they wouldn’t stop making too much noise. I had to carry it down to the basement, the leafy scent wafting into my nose.
His eyes widen. He usually has to learn what I don’t like through experimentation and not from my own words. He smiles and playfully bumps my shoulder. “Then I’ll remember to get rid of every bag mom has in the kitchen when we get home.”
We walk around a little longer and people-watch before heading back to the house. The car is filled with old BritneySpears songs and Nate’s off-pitch singing the whole ride there. He never lets the car go silent for long and sings even louder when we’re walking to the front door, his voice going quiet when we walk inside.
My mom is standing behind the center island in the kitchen with a birthday cake resting in front of her. “Happy Birthday, Jace,” is written in blue words on top of white icing.
