Everyday Hero Read Online Free PDF Page A

lights and the machines.
    “Want to check it out?”
    “ Check—a sudden stoppage of a forward course or progress ,” I said. “Or a form of
payment .”
    “No, I mean, do you want to go there and hear the music?”
    “Um—”
    “I’ll go too.”
    “I—”
    I paused, thoughts flashing through my mind. I remembered how I had taken the City
Center bus with Megan, even when it was not the After-School Special.
    But I remembered also that I didn’t like noise and people and strange smells.
    I looked up from the pavement and watched the many people walking toward the small
hut with the word Tickets flashing in yellow neon.
    “A lot of people go to the fair,” I said.
    “Yeah, it’s, like, the thing to do in Kitimat.”
    “People who are average in type, appearance, achievement, function and development
go to the fair?”
    “What the—? Did you swallow a dictionary?”
    “I like dictionaries.”
    “Yeah, I guess you do,” Megan said.
    “People who are average in type, appearance, achievement, function and development
go to the fair?” I asked again.
    “I guess. So, you wanna go?”
    I nodded. We stepped forward. I felt a little like I did the time I’d jumped off
the diving board, in that fraction of a second before I splashed into the water.
    We walked past the trucks and trailers, over huge snakelike power cords and under
a ride’s metallic arms.
    My music—“Für Elise”—came from a circular structure with flashing lights and colorful
horses on silver poles. The horses were blue and pink and green, with manes of gold.
    I watched as they went around and around and around, moving rhythmically up and down
and up and down on their silver poles.
    “My ballerinas,” I said.
    “It’s a carousel.”
    “I like the carousel.”
    A man standing next to the carousel flipped a switch, and the horses slowed. He tightened
something with a screwdriver and then started it again.
    “I like the carousel,” I repeated.
    “You could ride, you know, when the fair opens,” Megan said.
    I shook my head.
    “Why not?”
    “Because—because—you know…”
    “What?”
    “Asperger’s,” I said.
    “So? My left foot’s bigger than my right. Doesn’t mean I can’t do stuff.”
    I looked at her feet. They did not look different. “They do not look different,”
I said.
    “Jeez.” Megan looked at the sky. “Wait here.”
    She went over to the guy. He was perched on a stool and wore a backward baseball
cap. Strings of sandy hair fell into his face.
    He smiled at Megan. He had bad teeth, yellow and uneven. Megan leaned into him, smiling
and tossing back her long dark hair.
    He looked at me, then nodded toward the carousel. “I’m giving it a final run-through
anyway. I can stop it if you want to hop on.”
    He flipped another switch. The music stopped. The horses stopped. “Don’t worry about
a ticket.”
    “I—I—” The words had gone, disappeared.
    “You can,” Megan said.
    “I—I—I—” My body swayed.
    “You took the City Center bus,” Megan said. “It was hard at first, and then you did
it.”
    “You—”
    “I’m here now. Plus, you came here to check it out.”
    “But—”
    Megan turned to the guy. “Turn on the music again,” she said.
    The music started. “Für Elise.” From my music box. I stepped forward, my palms slick
with sweat. I took one step. And another. I lifted my leg, placing my foot on the
corrugated metal of the ride’s circular base. I stood on it, reaching for the gold
plastic of the horse’s mane.
    “You okay?” the man asked.
    I put my foot into the stirrup and swung my leg over so that I sat astride.
    “You okay?” he asked again.
    “She’s good,” Megan said.
    And the structure started forward. The body of the horse lifted and dropped, up and
down, up and down. Everything blurred as the ride gained momentum, moving forward,
around and around and around.
    And I was the ballerina. I was in my music box. I was…I was…
    I couldn’t find the