Dear Diary,
I fell asleep during my last entry. We had gotten home so late from the fair last night, I could hardly stay awake to write what I did.
It was 11:00 pm by the time we finally had gotten onto the ferris wheel. We had been waiting in line for the french fry perogies for 20 minutes when Miss Kompski's fryer caught on fire. I suggested we try looking for something else to eat, but Calvin insisted this was the best food booth at the festival, so we waited until after she went home to grab another one. They came with a small plastic cup of cream gravy, and they were just as delicious as Calvin had promised.
We were almost to our destination, when Calvin's eye caught a mini motor bike prize at the booth where you have to shoot down ten glass bottles with a bebe gun in 10 seconds. After 20 dollars, he still hadn't won it, and he needed his last dollars for the ferris wheel. His arms were crossed and he had a serious kindergartner pout on when we were finally seated on the giant lit up wheel.
"Everyone knows those games are rigged." I give my lame attempt at condolence.
"It wasn't rigged. The bottles were falling, I just wasn't fast enough. I almost had it though. I swear, if I just had three more bucks." He slumps over, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair, making the ferris wheel chair slightly rock.
I can't help but let out a small giggle. He was so upset about this tiny bike.
He looks up and to the side at me, his arm obscuring parts of his face "What's so funny?"
"I just don't think you would have fit on it anyway. You're pretty tall, you know?"
"I know." He says solemnly, putting his chin back into his hands. Then he looks up and out like he's noticed something. "Look." He says nodding his head forward.
We were missing the view. Stopped at the top of the ferris wheel as they loaded people down below us, we could see every single roof top of this tiny town.
"It's actually pretty." I say.
"Actually?" Still slouched forward, he looks at me over his shoulder, his face slightly changing as if he was looking at someone he used to know. But he's only looking at me.
He looks forward again, rubbing his hands together, and things feel silent between us although the rambunctious sounds of the carnival are all around and below us.
"Hey, there's a kid!" I point out into the crowd beneath our dangling feet to break this awkward
moment that I don't quite understand.
"In the summer you can sometimes spot the odd kid. They're probably visiting their grandparents."
"I see an odd one now." I say, sticking a finger in his face. He grabs my finger and pulls it away from his face, trying not to join my mocking laugh, but I can see he thinks it's funny. I'm trying not to notice that I slightly jumped when his hand touched mine.
"Shut up." He says, revealing his third smile for the first time.
It was the one he would make when he was trying not to laugh at something I said. It was my favourite one so far.
...
"This is what the big hoopla is about?" I kick at the broken pillar of the bridge entrance.
"It used to look much nicer." Calvin shrugs, hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, I saw the picture. But it's kind of old now, maybe they should let it go. It's not like people are still using this thing."
"Some things are about more than just their use." He says, stretching with both hands behind his neck.
"I guess so."
YOU ARE READING
That One Summer
Teen FictionJane was raised by her free spirited uncle, but when he moves to Paris she is forced to live with her grandpa for the summer in a small town where she finds romance and secrets to her past that she never knew were there.
