8 Plus 1 Read Online Free PDF

through the screen door as I met Holly at the porch. She told Holly to go to the car.
    “You know what you’re doing?” she asked. But it wasn’t a question: more an accusation.
    “What?”
    “Disrupting her life, her routine. Cruising in here every week like a year-round Santa Claus.”
    “Are you jealous? Or don’t you think a kid needs a little fun now and then?”
    She recoiled as if I’d slapped her or had stumbled upon the truth, and I felt a twist of triumph.
    “Here we are, Dad,” Holly said.
    “My God,” I cried, confronted by the huge and elaborate piece of machinery rising from the ground in front of us. Ordinarily, the rides in amusement parks all resemble one another, but the Rocket Ride seemed to be an exception, aroaring and revolving device that emitted billows of smoke and showers of sparks. Circular in design, the machinery contained small, simulated rockets with room for two or three people in each rocket. As the entire device moved in circular motion, the individual rockets swung up and down and occasionally poised daringly fifty feet above the ground before descending in a roar of smoke and flame. As we watched, the ride was apparently completing its circuit. I realized, finally, that the smoke was simulated and that the flames were actually paper streamers cunningly devised to resemble the real thing.
    “Isn’t it cool, Dad?” Holly asked.
    I chuckled at my shy little girl, who had yet to find the courage for a trip on the roller coaster.
    “You’re not going on
this
, are you?” Although the ride was not as awesome as it had seemed at first glance, there was still that fifty-foot swoop.
    “All the kids have,” Holly said, eyes blazing with challenge. “If I don’t, they’ll think I’m”—she groped for the alien word—“chicken.”
    My poor sweet. So small and worried, risking an encounter with the monster to prove to her friends that she was not afraid. The ride came to a stop with screams and shouts and bellows and a muffled explosion. The pain between my eyes increased, my stomach rose.
    “Please, Daddy?”
    “Tickets,” called the attendant.
    “Boy, oh, boy,” exulted a fellow coming off the ramp, his arm around a small blond girl who was flushed and excited, her body ripe and full. Somehow, our eyes met. She was young, but her eyesheld the old message, the ancient code I had deciphered a thousand times.
    “Can I, Daddy?” Holly’s voice was poised on the edge of victory, interpreting my sudden preoccupation as acquiescence.
    I watched the blond and her boyfriend as they made their way to a nearby refreshment stand. As a test. Sure enough, her eyes found their way to mine.
    Holly had been leading me to the ticket booth, and I found myself with wallet in hand.
    “You really want to go on this thing?” I asked, thinking that perhaps she had started to grow up, beginning to leave childhood behind. And yet I doubted her endurance. She was still only a baby.
    “Oh, Daddy,” she said impatiently, the woman emerging from the girl, a hint of the future.
    I thought of a tall cool one in the bar across the street. Or maybe an approach to the blond. Handing a dollar to the cashier, I said: “One.”
    “Child or adult?”
    “Child,” I answered. Adult? What sane adult would risk a ride on that terrible parody of a rocket shot?
    “Aren’t you coming with me?” Holly asked.
    “Look, Holly, your daddy’s getting old for these kinds of capers. Rocket ships are for the young.” Leading her toward the entrance, I urged: “Better hurry. You won’t get a seat.”
    “Do you think I should go on the ride alone?” she asked, doubts gathering, almost visible in her eyes.
    I squinted at the mechanism, conjuring up the vision of myself, complete with pounding headand queasy stomach, being tossed and turned and lifted and dashed down. Ridiculous. It was impossible for me to accompany her. I was not equipped for Rocket Rides, with or without a hangover. Blond or no