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“Okay,” Arnold started, the lights from the fair blazing around him reflecting in his glasses, “so there’s this new ride this year, it’s called the Waltzer, and it’s kinda like the tilt-a-whirl.” He smiled, Naba beside him, clutching onto his arm, and Kevin scanned the crowd around him– Nabulungi grinning, of course, James discreetly checking his phone, Chris looking at something across the fairgrounds (probably the churros stand they’d spotted on the way in), and Connor intently listening to whatever Arnold was going on about.
May was treating them nice this year. It was never usually this warm before Memorial Day, and Kevin had never been able to wear shorts to the annual fair in the old mall parking lot before. This was his fifth year going, his second with his group of friends. Before, he’d gone with his parents and siblings, usually tasked to watch over Jack and his sister; even though he loved his siblings, he was especially grateful that he didn’t have to watch over them anymore.
Arnold cleared his throat, and Kevin followed his line of eyesight– right at James’ phone. “Excuse me,” he joked, forcing some kind of authoritative voice, probably supposed to resemble their school principal, “James Church. Do I need to take your phone?” James quickly looked up and slid his phone into his back pocket.
“Sorry. No,” he shook his head, laughing.
“Anyways. I want you all to ride this with me.” He gestured behind him to the ride, the Waltzer, tall, and spinny. Employees stood in the center of the ride, spinning the carts by hand. Kevin watched one girl clamp a hand over her mouth; not that he could see her very clearly– she was spinning fast and the sight was blurry. “I’ll pay for the first go around, just to try it, but if you guys wanna go again you have to pay.” He grinned. “So who’s in?”
Kevin was always reluctant to go on rides at fairs, especially those that spun– he could handle upside down rides fine (even though when he was thirteen he almost fell out of a claw ride that spun upside down, but he doesn’t like to think much about that), but rides that spun him around and around and around always made him sick to his stomach just thinking of them, let alone riding them.
He looked back at the Waltzer, spinning impossibly fast and rough, and the workers stationed looked bored out of their minds. He squinted, and could see the worker in the control panel for the ride checking his phone. Spinny rides were probably the least dangerous if they failed to operate or broke in the middle of a go-around, but still, the idea was scary, and Kevin favored ride attendants paying attention, especially on a ride like this that was probably put up in about three hours.
“I’m in,” Chris smiled with a nod, followed by James.
“I’ll do it,” Connor spoke up, a little less confident than Chris, but not as weary of the ride as Kevin was. “But only if I get to sit next to Kevin,” he added, turning his head to him, smiling, but quickly dropped his expression seeing Kevin’s own unamusement and worry. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice low, and turned Kevin to face him.
“Um,” he stuttered, and somehow, despite the four pairs of eyes staring at him in this conversation, felt like he was granted a shred of privacy, “I mean, spinny rides aren’t usually my thing…” he trailed off, resuming eye contact with Connor. He couldn’t quite read his expression, with his eyes wide and eyebrows turned up, a slight frown on his face. He didn’t seem too upset– disappointed, maybe?– or maybe it was just worry, but either way, Kevin hated seeing Connor even a little bit upset, and couldn’t help but get a little bit mad at himself if he had even done the slightest thing to cause it.
Maybe it would be fine. The ride was what– four? five? minutes long, and Kevin could sit through that. He’d done so many five to ten minute presentations at school by this point, and those were probably way worse than just having to sit down on a ride that spun for five minutes. And Connor would be next to him. (So that was a bonus.)
“But, um,” Kevin went back on his words, “it can’t hurt to try it, right?” He said with some forced enthusiasm, plastering a smile on his face, and Connor’s expression immediately mirrored his. Kevin felt his heart lift a little. Fake it till you make it. “I’ll go.” He paused a moment, before reassuring himself again. “Yeah. Yeah, it’ll be fun.”
“Cool,” Arnold simply said, grabbing Naba’s hand, “let’s go!”
The line was short– they jumped in the back of the queue as the ride attendees were loading people onto the carts. First, Arnold and Naba, and then Chris and James. A little part of Kevin was worried that they’d run out of room before they got to load on Connor and him (but an even smaller part of him had his anxiety ease at the thought). It wasn’t long lasting though, as Connor and Kevin were directed to a cart near Arnold and Naba. The bar was lifted and they slid in, the metal they sat on cold and strangely sticky– Kevin hated the feeling on his legs.
“You good?” Connor asked him, and Kevin must have been spacing out again, his hands playing with the hem of his shorts, while Connor’s hands were gripping onto the bar still situated above them. “Can I pull the bar down?” He asked, and Kevin silently nodded, grabbing the other end of the bar, the two of them heaving it down. He didn’t feel very secure in the restraints, but as long as he could hold onto the bar he’d be okay.
Waiting for the ride to start seemed to take forever, between the loud blaring music and occasionally hearing Arnold’s laugh cackle over it, and the silence so loud between him and Connor– neither of them said a word. Kevin looked over to Connor, hands in his lap and picking at a hangnail.
Things like this weren’t usually awkward, but Kevin just simply didn’t have anything to say– they were together a lot, and he’d already said everything on his mind for the night, and already complained about the calculus homework he had to do the next day, and already complained about being demoted from second singles to third singles on his tennis team because of some new fancy exchange student … and it was really starting to dawn on Kevin that most of his conversation starters were him complaining. Maybe Connor liked the silence, in that case.
“I’m going with my sister to the beach for Memorial Day weekend,” Connor said, shouting over the music and turning towards Kevin. Maybe his conversation starters weren’t any better, but at least he wasn’t complaining.
“I know,” Kevin replied, “you told me on Wednesday.”
“Huh?” Kevin could have sworn the music was growing in volume, but maybe his ears were just growing more sensitive to the noise.
“I said , you told me on Wednesd- ” A loud blast of air cut off Kevin, along with a voice yelling over the intercom. He was pretty sure Connor screamed, but if he didn’t, he definitely flinched.
“Are you ready for the Walzer?” The attendant in the control booth shouted, somehow making Kevin feel threatened by the word walzer. The lights flashed, dizzying Kevin, and more air blasts came out– this time right above Kevin and Connor (and Kevin was the one to yelp in surprise). The lights spun one more time, the orange and blue and green and red disorienting Kevin’s vision, and the ride hadn’t even begun, and Kevin felt as though he was going to pass out.
Maybe his behavior wasn’t as inconspicuous as he thought, because Connor reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Kevin took a deep breath, counting to four as he did so– a technique they were taught in a presentation school to manage anxiety (it was suggested they do that before taking a test, but Kevin had found other uses for it, like stopping an anxiety attack).
By the time Kevin opened his eyes again and tried to breathe regularly again, the ride had already begun spinning at a slightly leisurely pace. The ride attendants hadn’t begun pushing their carts yet, but the track the carts were on was slowly starting to speed up, gravity beginning to take control of it. On the downhill, the cart made its first full rotation, and Kevin inhaled sharply– he didn’t know if it was better to keep his eyes open or closed to not get sick, so instead he let his eyes fall to the ground and stared at his feet.
The ride picked up pace a lot faster than he thought he would– not even thirty seconds later and a ride attendant pushed their cart, spinning it a full 360 degrees. Kevin tried not to shriek; he wasn’t sure if he did or not, but the only thing he could hear over the music blasting was Connor laughing. How could he be laughing at this? For Kevin, this felt like pure torture, forced to spin in circles far too fast for what was already feeling like hours, and bright lights and loud music and air blasts going off at random points.
The ride attendant spun their cart again, this time making two, quick full rotations which ended with Connor’s body weight being slammed against Kevin (he must have not been holding onto the bar, but he wasn’t really paying attention considering his own knuckles were now white from his grasp on it).
“Ow,” Kevin said under his breath as Connor tried to reposition himself to the best of his ability in the cart. He’d probably have a bruise on his side the next day– Connor wasn’t particularly heavy, and neither was Kevin, but the force of being slammed into some poorly constructed metal cart was painful.
“Are you okay?” Connor asked, but the words got lost in another air blast, and the ride attendant in the center control panel switched the music to some upbeat Spanish club genre. The ride attendant pushed their cart again and it spun even faster– Kevin looked up at the world, just for a brief moment, which he immediately regretted, being overcome by a wave of nausea. He screwed his eyes shut, counting, waiting for the feeling to pass, but it didn’t. Kevin swallowed.
The ride felt like it sped up again– Kevin didn’t understand how it could possibly go any faster– around and around and around– and now his neck was really starting to hurt, trying to defy gravity and stay up right. If he let himself go, he was sure his neck would snap in half (but at this point maybe that would be a good solution. It would stop the ride, after all). Kevin opened his eyes once more– in a last ditch attempt to fight off the nausea, his gaze immediately dropping to his feet again. A hand went to cover his mouth, tightly gripping his face. He couldn’t get sick, at least not here– that’d be far too embarrassing, and if any got on Connor he didn’t know how he could forgive himself.
And finally, after what felt like minutes, hours, days trapped on this stupid thing, it finally came to a slow. He’d shut his eyes again, just to see if it would help his nausea (to no avail). The music faded out, and a few more quiet airblasts rang out. Kevin knew that the ride had stopped now, but he still felt like he was spinning, eyelids weighed down by some insurmountable force, convinced if he opened them he’d puke all over himself. His neck ached, worse than it ever had before, as if he’d slept on it wrong a hundred nights in a row. He heard the click of the silver bar strapping them in, and felt his hands rising with it, unable to let go. His hands felt superglued to the sticky, now warm metal.
“Kevin?” He heard a voice ask, which took him an alarmingly long time to recognize as Connor’s. “The ride is over now,” he paused, “are you okay?” Kevin tried to open his eyes, but for some reason, he just couldn’t. Instead, he shook his head, slowly, but was quickly overwhelmed by a sudden wave of nausea. A hand returned to his face, gagging into it.
“Oh, okay, um,” Connor said, alarmed, and Kevin felt his hand on his shoulder. “I, um–”
“–Please exit the ride. The exit is to the left,” a ride attendant came over the loudspeaker in the ride, tone impatient. Kevin hoped he wasn’t the only one stuck like this.
“Kevin, we gotta go,” Connor urged, his hands now on Kevin’s shoulders. He swallowed, and mustered what he had in him to open his eyes. It took a minute, and his head was still pointed at the ceiling; the world was still spinning. Connor grabbed him firmly by the shoulders as his other hand went to his mouth, trying his best not to get sick all over the ride. “Good,” Connor reassured him, leading him down a ramp to the pavement below the ride, the colored lights clouding Kevin’s vision as he tilted his head back even further. “Let’s go to the bathroom. It’s inside the mall, just right over there, okay?” Connor asked, continuing to guide him by the shoulders through the crowd, and Kevin tilted his head back to its resting position, neck aching and still nauseous. Kevin shut his eyes again.
By the time he reopened them, he was greeted with the harsh mall light rather than the artificial LEDs outside and was quickly shoved through a doorway, presumably to the men’s restroom. Connor let go of his shoulders, although his grip had been so tight Kevin could practically still feel his fingers digging into his shoulder blades. He stared blankly at Connor, dropping one hand from his mouth, waiting for him to say something.
“Okay. Here. If you still need to throw u–”
Kevin retched again, unexpectedly, and he felt some bile creep up his throat. It took everything in him not to just get sick on the floor, but he couldn’t– not when Connor had made an effort to get him to the only socially acceptable place to be ill anyway.
Connor grabbed him by his shoulders again and quickly ushered him into a stall; Kevin finally removed his hands from his mouth and spit the bile into the toilet, his stomach still upset, and then retching once more. He opened his eyes– a mistake– and at the sight of his own vomit, puked again. The only thing grounding him was the hand on the back of his neck, slowly stroking his hair. He shut his eyes once more and gagged, a burning feeling in his throat, stomach, and face. He reached up to the toilet handle and shoved it down, the loud sound making both him and Connor jump (thankfully it wasn’t as loud as the airblasts). Kevin sat for a moment, exhausted. He was out of breath– not a single thing he’d done in the past ten minutes was worth it. Not the ride, even though Arnold swore it would be fun; not getting ushered through the crowd using all the energy he had left not to puke on the pavement; not even getting to sit next to Connor (sorry, Connor), when all he’d gotten in return is large bouts of nausea and violently puking in front of one of the few people whose opinions on him still truly mattered.
“I’m sorry.” He sputtered out, face still staring into the toilet, empty, bleak and still. He reached for the toilet paper next to him and grabbed a piece, wiping some chunks and bile off his lips. He threw the toilet paper into the bowl once he was done, along with spitting once more into it, saliva like molasses, clouded with bile.
“It’s okay,” Connor whispered, “just glad you didn’t do it on me,” he joked, and Kevin could hear the smile on his face.
“I feel so gross.” Kevin rolled his eyes and flushed the toilet again, this time lifting his head up to look at Connor, eyes tired and glossy.
“Yeah, well,” Connor slouched against the stall’s wall and pulled his knees to his chest, “we are sitting on the floor of a public bathroom. And you did just puke.”
Kevin mirrored him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, just for good measure, but instead stuck his legs out towards Connor. “My hair’s all messed up now too,” he paused, then added, “and yours too.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he giggled. “It wouldn’t be if I didn’t ride that.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, Kevin closely watching him. “Honestly? That was my least favorite ride.”
“Same,” Kevin nodded in agreement, “obviously.” His eyes flicked down to the bathroom floor, grimy and slightly sticky. He shuddered, too tired to stand up– his other option would be to sit on the toilet, but considering it was just a seat without a lid (and he was pretty sure he’d gotten a little bit of vomit on the side of the toilet seat), that was the last thing he wanted to do. “And I’m a little bit mad at Arnold for making me ride that. And a little mad at myself for making him spend that money on me.”
“God, why are these fairs so expensive?” Connor scoffed, and he lifted his head back up, hands falling on his knees. “That was four dollars each, so…” Kevin watched his eyes drift up to the ceiling as he did a little bit of mental math– he wouldn’t judge, Kevin had already solved it in his head, but Connor was still good at math, just not as fast (and he was more into statistics anyways). “Me, you, Arnold, Naba, Chris, James… twenty four. Jeez. That’s like… two paychecks.”
Kevin’s face flushed. “He hardly gets any hours at work either.” He paused, “I feel bad.”
“You could pay him back if you wanted to.”
“He’d never let me.”
Connor smiled, and his smile was truly contagious– just friendly and open, and Kevin loved that. His lips curved up in a smile too, and for a moment he’d forgotten about the fact he’d just lost his dinner from the worst ride he’d ever been on.
“Wanna get some churros?” He piped up, not even thinking his stomach needed some time to settle once more.
“How could I ever say no?” Connor replied, standing up, and lending out a hand to help Kevin up, which he eagerly accepted.
But even through his slight bout of nausea as he stood up, Kevin told himself he’d probably just give his churro to Chris anyways.
Paying Arnold’s generosity forward.