Dents

[+] Carnival

"Et's called the Switchback Ride."

2D lifted the worn vermillion stanchion ahead of us and ushered me through it. He smiled broadly. The sweet scent of powdered sugar rushed past us with the approaching winds of spring.

His touch when he brushed against me felt as radiant as the afternoon sun floating above our heads. At the final end of the rows of stanchions, he reached for my hand. He guided me up the compact stairwell to the docking bay. It was a rickety journey to the top. The sixth step up had rusted through in its entirety, leaving a gaping hole where a foothold should have been.

If the stairs leading to a twenty ton roller coaster were so severely aged, I feared for the condition of the ride itself. I tried to convince myself that potential malfunctions were a part of the suspense. It didn't really work.

2D waved to a heavyset teenager inside the nearby ticket case. She waved back without ever lifting her eyes or ceasing her tapping on her cellphone. The screen cast a ghostly blue hue over her round cheeks. He carried on, nimbly sliding under the shoulder bars of the crimson cart at the forefront of the train with a boyish grin on his face.

I wasn't sure how the ride worked, exactly. I'd never seen anything like it before. I realized later on that it was extremely obvious what it did. It did the only thing it could do when it was in the shape of an enormous U.

It was called the 'switchback' ride. 

I never claimed to be the brightest crayon in the box.

2D patted the battered plastic seat beside him. With great caution, I sat down beside him. I overheard him snickering at my wariness.

"Saoirse," he sang, "Not 'fraid of bullets, talkin' whales, psycho robots 'n explosions or othawise, but completely spooked ov shoes wifth wheels 'n fair rides."

"W - Well it's not like I've ever been on one before. I've never even seen one in person. Just pictures. What does this thing even do?"

Feeling foolish, I crossed my arms and turned away from him.

"And I'm actually pretty good on wheels, now," I muttered halfheartedly.

2D huffed. He sounded the farthest thing from disappointed. He was clearly tickled pink with himself after getting a rise out of me.

"Don't I know et. 'Ell, yew're betta than me now, probably. But yew're so cute when yew're actin' all shy like 'at, luv. Yew can't be so fun to tease."

Whatever mild irritation I felt disappeared. My rapidly thudding heart melted and sunk to my stomach. I scooted closer to him. He was warm. I suddenly felt a lot safer.

2D reached overhead and yanked the padded fastening bar, pushing it down forcefully until it held us snugly in place. The cushions were wrinkled and torn. One section looked like someone may have taken a bite out of it. I sucked in a deep breath of the chilly April air, bracing myself.

We weren't moving.

The train car howled out like a injured beast. We slowly crept back and forth on the track. The movement was jittery and it seemed like the wheels were sort of sticky. When they came loose, we were jolted forward or backward hard enough to give me whiplash. I presumed the inconsistent lurching had to do with the weight of the cart in tandem with the layer of stripped paint and rust it was forced to grind upon. 

"This isn't so bad."

"Et's jus' gettin' movin', luv."

"Right. Okay."

A bead of nervous sweat accumulated on my forehead.

"It's just getting moving. Right."

2D laughed.