Never Eighteen Read Online Free PDF Page A

attendant asks. He looks just like a fair attendant should, big, bald, missing some teeth, a clichéd tattoo on his gigantic bicep— MOM in a red heart. I'm sure if he were to bend over, we'd get a view of his butt crack as well. He reeks of cigarettes and whiskey, disconcerting for someone who has just put his life in this man's hands. The stench makes me nauseous. I run to a nearby garbage can and puke, a horrible waste of cookies.
    Kaylee looks at me and can't help but laugh at my expense. I wipe my mouth and laugh with her.
    "Is it everything you thought it would be?" she asks.
    "And more," I answer.
    I grab my camera from the woman and we walk around for a bit, check out the exhibits and the animals to let my stomach settle. When I'm ready I say, "Let's get lunch."
    "Lunch?" She chuckles. "You sure? Are you ready?"
    "Yeah, I'm starved; I just lost my breakfast and cookies all in one shot." She laughs again. I love making her laugh. Her dimples show, her cheeks turn red. Just a second of her laughter can get me through my darkest day. We head toward the food vendors.
    "What will it be?" Kaylee asks. "Earthquake Burger? Krusty Pup? Or do you want to go straight to dessert with an elephant ear, deep-fried Twinkie, or a scone? Name your grease-ridden-fatty-heart-attack-waiting-to-happen food of choice."
    "I want that," I say, pointing to the Barbecue Pete's booth.
    "Sounds good to me. I loves me some barbecue," she says.
    We head over to the booth, built to resemble an Old West saloon. Kaylee orders some chicken and corn on the cob. She steps aside to let me order.
    "I'd like some buffalo chicken wings, that chipotle coleslaw, an order of fries ... oh, and the largest Coke you've got."
    "Are you crazy?" Kaylee says laughing. "You hate hot!"
    "I want to see how much I can take. I want to feel the burn. You only live once, you know." Kaylee looks at me with sad eyes. We grab our food and head to an open table.
    She digs right in to her chicken, but I hesitate, a bit apprehensive about the heat I'm getting ready to stick in my mouth. Do I want to begin with the hottest item on my plate, which I imagine is the buffalo chicken, or should I start with the coleslaw and ease my way into the hot? The Coke and fries are strictly for balance.
    "What are you waiting for? Let the pain begin," she says, corn kernels flying out of her mouth.
    "I think I'll start with the chicken," I say.
    "Your funeral," she says. She looks into my face; I smile, instantly easing her discomfort. She smiles back sweetly.
    "Here, you have to film it." I hold out the Cyber-shot to her. She wipes her hands, then aims the camera.
    I pick up a piece of the chicken, study it carefully, take a lick of the sauce with the very tip of my tongue, grimace, and put it back down on my plate. "This is not going to be easy," I joke.
    "You wuss. Just do it." She giggles as she says it.
    "Okay. Here it goes." I pick the chicken back up and quickly tear off a piece of the well-soaked, saucy meat. I chew quickly, the heat radiating quickly from my tongue to the sides and top of my mouth to the back of my throat. My face heats up and I could swear my eyeballs are sweating. I swallow, fanning my hand in front of my mouth until I get ahold of my Coke. I take a huge swig.
    "You should see your face, Austin. It's classic," Kaylee says.
    "Holy shit, that was hot!" I yell, earning disapproving looks from all the parents within earshot.
    I take a few deep breaths, and after my mouth cools down a bit, I reach for my fork and dig in to the coleslaw.
    "Are you crazy?" Kaylee asks. "You're still going to try that even after the chicken?"
    "I'm on a mission—what can I say?" I look at the fork briefly, inhale deeply, and shove it into my mouth. I chew, once again as quickly as possible. I couldn't have been more wrong. The slaw is about four times hotter than the chicken. Heat travels from my head down through my internal organs and out to my limbs. Surely flames will shoot out my fingers