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Bottle Rocket Wars

The next several days whipped past. Although sitting in heated rooms listening to teachers seemed neverending, before I could figure out what to take notes on in my math class, it was the Fourth of July. The holiday fell on a Thursday, so all the summer school kids got off that day as well as the Friday after it. It was like Christmas break in the middle of summer for me and Adam. Every Year, Goldenrock had a big carnival for the Fourth. They called it The Goldenrock Jubilee. There were rides and prize games and contests. Picnics and barbecues. A parade. And, most importantly, the fireworks. The whole celebration went on Tuesday through Thursday, ending with the big fireworks display. Of course, Adam and I were in school both Tuesday and Wednesday, so we didn't get much of a chance to go to the carnival until the Fourth itself. We missed the opening stuff and the good food on the first two days. We missed most of the contests and the Miss Goldenrock Pageant (which, I have to admit, wasn't too disappointing). But we were going to spend our entire Thursday doing carnival stuff. I was the only one who said that out loud, though.

Adam tried every year to act like he couldn't care less about the Jubilee. He always spent the morning slugging around so that by the time we got there, it was past lunch. When we were there, he'd make me ask twice before he'd go on a ride. Once we were on them, though, he always had a good time. It would take him about an hour to really get into his carnival mode, but he inevitably ended up in it, despite his determination not to. Then we'd have fun.

It was hot and crowded when we got there around two. The ground was dusty and the grass had been trampled down by hundreds of feet. The air smelled like grease, butter, and funnel cakes. My stomach growled. Screams came from overhead as we walked underneath the Rocco Planes and past the Sizzler, toward the Tommy Tornado—the one where you're standing in a big circle and they spin you around so you're pressed against the wall. I always wanted to throw up after that one, but I never had. I had a good carnival stomach. That was at least one thing I had that my little brother didn't. Corey couldn't ride anything tougher than the Ferris Wheel or he'd get sick. He couldn't even ride the big swings! He never came to the carnival until later, because he only played games and watched fireworks.

"This is awesome," I muttered. "Let's go get some tickets. My mom gave me twenty bucks. How about yours?"

"Same."

"All right. If we use them wisely, we can get in eight rides. Or six rides and two games."

Adam's face was blank. "I'd rather be at the pool," was all he said.

I snorted. "Yeah right, Adam. You haven't been to the pool since fourth grade." I looked at him. He was all in dark colors, as usual. Pants three sizes too big and a brown T-shirt reading "Death to the Sun," whatever that meant. His wallet chain jangled heavily at his leg and he was wearing another thick ball chain around his neck. There was some new thing on his wrist, too. A black watchband-looking thing with little silver spikes around it. Sometimes I thought he looked like a walking Goth Christmas tree with all his paraphernalia. My accessories consisted of brushed teeth and (if I had time) combed hair.

"Whatever. Just get the tickets."

I rolled my eyes as we started toward the ticket booth. Adam had gotten to be such a pain lately. I mean, he'd always been moody, but he'd just turned so crabby. I knew it was probably because his mom was still getting letters and stuff from that guy. Even though Adam didn't talk about it much, I could tell he was really hurt.

Adam gave me his money and I went to the booth. He didn't want to go up to the window himself. Somebody might think he actually wanted to have a good time. So I spent our money and, as I was turning around and stuffing the tickets into my pocket, I heard a squirrely little voice say, "Well, if it isn't our large albino friend. Just where he belongs! In the carnies' freak show!"