The Girl Next Door Read Online Free PDF Page B

bottom bunks and then Ruth would come in and yell and we’d go to sleep.
    The nights I liked best were Karnival nights. From the open bedroom window facing the playground we could hear calliope music, screams, the whir and grind of machinery.
    The sky was orange-red as though a forest fire were raging, punctuated by brighter reds and blues as the Octopus whirled just out of sight behind the trees.
    We knew what was out there—we had just come back from there after all, our hands still sticky from cotton candy. But somehow it was mysterious to lie listening, long past our bedtime, silent for once, envying adults and teenagers, imagining the terrors and thrills of the big rides we were too young to go on that were getting all those screams. Until the sounds and lights slowly faded away, replaced by the laughter of strangers as they made their way back to cars all up and down our block.
    I swore that when I got old enough I’d be the last one to leave.
     
    And now I was standing alone at the refreshment booth eating my third hot dog of the evening and wondering what the hell to do with myself.
    I’d ridden all the rides I cared to. I’d lost money at every game and wheel of fortune the place had to offer and all I had was one tiny ceramic poodle for my mother shoved in my pocket to show for it.
    I’d had my candy apple, my Sno-Cone and my slice of pizza.
    I’d hung out with Kenny and Malcolm until Malcolm got sick on the Dive Bomber and then with Tony and Lou Morino and Linda and Betty Martin until they went home. It was fun, but now there was just me. It was ten o’clock.
    And two hours yet to go.
    I’d seen Woofer earlier. But Donny and Willie Jr. hadn’t shown and neither had Ruth or Meg or Susan. It was odd because Ruth was usually very big on Karnival. I thought of going across the street to see what was what but that would mean admitting I was bored and I wasn’t ready to do that yet.
    I decided I’d wait a while.
    Ten minutes later Meg arrived.
    I was trying my luck on number seven red and considering a second candy apple when I saw her walk slowly through the crowd, alone, wearing jeans and a bright green blouse—and suddenly I didn’t feel so shy anymore. That I didn’t feel shy amazed me. Maybe by then I was ready for anything. I waited until I lost on the red again and went over.
    And then it was as though I was interrupting something.
    She was staring up at the Ferns wheel, fascinated, brushing back a lock of long red hair with her fingers. I saw something glint on her hand as it dropped to her side.
    It was a pretty fast wheel. Up top the girls were squealing.
    “Hi, Meg.” I said.
    She looked at me and smiled and said, “Hi, David.” Then she looked back at the wheel.
    You could tell she’d never been on one before. Just the way she stared. What kind of life was that? I wondered.
    “Neat, huh? It’s faster than most are.”
    She looked at me again, all excited. “It is?”
    “Yeah. Faster than the one at Playland, anyway. Faster than Bertram’s Island.”
    “It’s beautiful.”
    Privately I agreed with her. There was a smooth easy glide to the wheel I’d always liked, a simplicity of purpose and design that the scary rides lacked. I couldn’t have stated it then but I’d always thought the wheel was graceful, romantic.
    “Want to try?”
    I heard the eagerness in my voice and wished for death. What was I doing? The girl was older than me. Maybe as much as three years older. I was crazy.
    I tried to backtrack.
    Maybe I’d confused her.
    “I mean, I’d go on it with you if you want. If you’re scared to. I don’t mind.”
    She laughed. I felt the knife point lift away from my throat.
    “Come on,” she said.
    She took my hand and led me over.
    Somehow I bought us tickets and we stepped into a car and sat down. All I remember is the feel of her hand, warm and dry in the cool night air, the fingers slim and strong. That and my bright-red cheeks reminding me I was twelve years old on