Page 177 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Yeah, creepy birds. And when there’s more than one, their collective noun is an ‘unkindness.’ Enough said.”
He gives me an“interesting”face.
“Exactly! I think they’re also known as a ‘treachery.’” I take one last look at the room, then edge toward the door. “Have you seen everything you want to see here?”
“I have.”
“Can we go then? The sun will be setting soon, which is the perfect time to ride the Eye. It’ll be lovely.”
Hand in hand, we leave the medieval, polarizing castle before sailing along the gentle waters of the Thames, past Shakespeare’s Globe—which is smaller than I imagined it to be—before docking across the river from the Eye.
“That’s one gigantic Ferris wheel,” Riley says, his neck arched back, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.
“Don’t tell me you fear heights as well?”
“I don’t, but… I’m not sure I can get in one of those glass egg-looking cages.”
Shit! I didn’t think of that.
“Oh!” My heart deflates. “We don’t have to ride it if you don’t want to.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “You should do it. If I weren’t here with you, you would.”
I take his hand from his head and clasp it in mine. “But you are here.”
Drawing in a deep breath, he holds it before puffing it out, his cheeks akin to deflating balloons.
“It’s fine,” I say, not wanting him to feel pressured as I pull my cell out. “Let me just take a couple of pictures, and then we can head back to the ship.”
He scratches the back of his head, then drops his gaze to mine. “If I die up there, promise me you’ll give Poppy the souvenirs I bought her. And tell Mom I won a dance contest.”
I laugh. “You’re not going to die.”
“I am.”
“Seriously, we don’t have to do?—”
“Fuck it.” He bounces on the spot and jerks his head from side to side. “Let’s do this before I back out.”
Riley strides to the ticket booth like a man on a mission, and we purchase our passes, then climb aboard, the doors soon closing, the glass pod slowly lifting.
“See?” I say, clasping his hand firmly in mine as we sit on the oval wooden bench in the center of the pod. “It’s only us in here. That’s good. We’re not cramped.”
His eyes suspiciously survey our casing, and I feel awful for his unease.
“And we’re hardly moving,” I add. “It’s as if we’re not moving at all.”
“It’s not the moving part that bothers me, Riles. It’s the ‘not being able to get out if I want to’ part. And I’m going to want to.”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to be fine. Think of it as being on the train. You can still stand and walk about freely. You just can’t get off until we get there.”
“Not helping, Riles.”
“Sorry.”
Sweat slicks his palm, dampening mine.
I give it a squeeze and stand. “Walk with me. We’ll keep moving while we’re moving, as if we’re walking along the street.” Continuing to talk to him, I try not to give him enough time to think about his confinement. “That garden over there is pretty.”I point at it, forcing him to focus beyond the glass. “And look at the river. It’s like a murky latte. Oh my God! I’d die for a coffee right now. How about you? Coffee would be perfect, right?”
