8 Plus 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

blond.
    The crowd jostled us, pushing forward, carrying us to the entrance. Placing the ticket in Holly’s hand, I waved her on. She was swept along in the crowd and then emerged on the ramp leading to the platform where customers entered the individual capsules. The attendant on the platform took her ticket. I hoped he would realize how young she was and guide her to a rocket where other people would be near her. He led her to a small rocket, a capsule with enough room for only one person, installed no doubt for those who preferred to ride alone. She hesitated for a moment and then entered the compartment. She seemed small and wan and abandoned. She snapped a thin bar in place—her only protection from falling out. But, of course, nobody ever fell out of those things. Did they? I told myself to stop being melodramatic; it was only a lousy ride in an amusement park and she wasn’t a child any longer.
    Damn it. I walked over to the cashier’s booth, drawing my wallet. But I was halted in my tracks by the attendant’s cry: “All aboard. We’re off to the moon.”
    “You can just make it, mister,” the cashier offered.
    But I’d look foolish scurrying up the ramp. And, besides, all the rockets were probably filled.
    A belch of smoke escaped the rocket, the roarof an engine filled the air and the entire mechanism seemed to come alive. I ran back near the entrance, eager to see Holly before the ride began. She was sitting erect in her seat, as if she were a dutiful fifth-grader being obedient for her teacher. Her hands were folded in her lap. Our eyes met and I garlanded my face with a smile, assuring her that she was going to have fun. She nodded back, sighed a little, and with a roar and swish and boom, the trip started.
    It all resembled a merry-go-round gone mad, the rockets whirling madly and individually, rising and falling and twisting, often at crazy impossible angles. I was grateful for my restraint, for having refused to go with Holly; I’d have been sick as a dog already. I glanced toward the refreshment stand; the blond was gone. Like so many others.
    When I turned back to the ride again, it was in full swing. People screamed, those peculiar screams of terror and delight. The machinery
whooshed
and I sought Holly. At first, I couldn’t find her in the nightmare of motion and color and sound. And then the small rocket swung into view and I spotted her. Her eyes were wide with surprise, her body tense, her hands clinging to the bar. Then she was gone, whisked away out of sight. The other people passed like blurs before my eyes. On the next turn, Holly’s eyes were closed and her face resembled melted wax, as if a mad sculptor had molded her flesh into a mask of fright. As she began to rise, far up, I wondered whether there was an element of danger, after all. Suppose she lost her grip on the bar. I walkedtoward the attendant who stood at bored attention near the entrance, but I finally decided not to bother him. Stop dramatizing, I told myself. Then Holly swept by, her eyes wild with horror, terrible eyes, agonized. I hurried to the attendant and asked him how long the ride went on.
    “What?” he shouted above the din.
    “How long’s the ride?”
    “Five minutes. They get their money’s worth,” he yelled.
    Stalking to my vantage point, I cursed myself. A moment later, she came into view, her eyes closed once more, her body crouched and tense, pitifully small and vulnerable. I remembered that as a child of three or so she’d been subject to nightmares. And she’d been afraid of thunder and lightning. I thought of all the thunderstorms she had endured and how I hadn’t been there to comfort her.
    Now, the rocket swept around again and began the long ascent. Her eyes were open, in a gaze of desperation. She looked downward and saw me. Her lips were pressed tight, her cheeks taut. In that precious moment, I tried to hold her in my view. I smiled, more than smiled: I attempted to inject courage and love