I throw again. I miss.
He crosses his arms. “Are you pretending to be bad at this? You know, to make me feel good about myself?”
I give him the finger.
He throws and it bounces out. The crack in his perfectness makes me want to laugh, but I keep my lips pressed together.
Now it’s my turn to throw again.Come on, impress him. Show him you’re good at something.I throw the ball. This time I miss completely.
He gets his shot in.Of course he does.He pumps his fist when he makes it.
“Congratulations,” says the girl. “You can take your pick from the back wall.”
Dyl leans back and peers at the wall like a scholar. “Surprise me.”
The girl hands Dyl a pink stuffed dinosaur. He squeezes it and it squeaks. “What I’ve always wanted. Thank you.”
She laughs. “You’re welcome.”
We walk away.
“Do you like my dino?” he asks. “I’m thinking of calling him Mr. Huggles.”
I frown. “Are you serious?”
He lifts an eyebrow, then walks up to a family that’s waiting in line in front of the cotton candy stall, leaving me alone. He waves at them, getting their attention, and then he starts talking to the parents. A small girl, maybe four at the oldest, is hiding behind her father’s legs. Dyl crouches, then offers her Mr. Huggles. She reaches out and snatches it from his grasp, then returns to her safe place. The parents laugh, and then Dyl makes his way back to me with his hands tucked into his pockets.
“That was the furthest thing from Bad I’ve ever seen,” I say. “It was, dare I say it, adorable.”
He shoots me a back-the-eff-off look. So I drop it.
“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel,” he says, pointing at the structure that towers above everything. It’s large and white, and candy-colored lights have been attached to each carriage.
I tilt my head up. It’s really high. What if one of the carriages snaps? We’d die. Is a silly ride worth it?
Dyl is staring at it with wide eyes.
I gulp, and wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. “I don’t like heights, but it’s your call, man.”
“Then let’s go.”
The line takes about twenty minutes; we stand slightly apart just in case someone from school sees us. I already have a lie planned if we run into someone: I’m here with a group, but none of them wanted to go on the Ferris wheel so I’m going alone. Being next to Dyl is a total coincidence, I didn’t even recognize him. It’s not my best lie, but it’s unlikely I’ll have to use it. I already texted Juliet to see where she is, and she’s at home studying. I also checked with Nat and Trev, and they’re both busy. Nat’s at an author signing in DC, Trev is training. Dyl has no other friends, so there’s no danger there, and I’m not sure anyone else knows us enough to know that this pairing is unusual. They might even think we’re just on a date and not care at all. I like the thought of that.
I lean against the cold railing and watch Dyl as he watches the crowd. He looks at everyone, but his more intense focus seems to be drawn toward couples.
We reach the front of the line and he faces me. “You know, the only way you can know in public if someone is a couple is if they hold hands. Like, we’re together, but no one thinks we’re a couple. But if we held hands, they would.”
“I guess. What’s your point?”
“Well, maybe it’s because I’ve never been close enough to someone to hold their hand, but it seems like people only do it to prove to others that they’re in a relationship. They’re like,Screw you, strangers, I found someone and you’re alone, and I want you to know that.You know?”
“Maybe they like each other a lot? Maybe they just want to hold the hand of the person they love and they don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You really are a Nice, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Someone who wasn’t at least partially Nice wouldn’t have said that, Caden. They just wouldn’t have.”