Fair Weather Friend

Where the wind blows, retribution will follow.

Dear Reader: Starting today, my story images will remain consistent for all stories. A version of this image will appear for Dear Reader and The Backstory as well. I will explain the decision in the upcoming issue of Dear Reader. Thanks!

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The carnival is coming. The mayor and town council have planned it for our centennial celebration. The flyers are posted and the kids in my class talk about it all week. On Friday after school, my classmate Sarah says, “Save me a ride on the Matterhorn. Lizzy won’t go with me, and I’m too scared to go by myself.”

I don’t like Lizzy. She is beyond smart and rubs it in my face, but only after she tells me that Sarah likes me. I like Sarah back.

On Saturday morning I open my bedroom window. A cool, gentle wind blows through, and with it comes the welcome smell of hot dogs, elephant ears, roasted almonds and cotton candy. At 11am I leave my house, and as previously planned, I meet up with my best friend Darryl so we can ride bikes to the carnival together.

“I’m going to stuff my face. I didn’t eat breakfast,” Darryl says. 

“I’m going to ride the Matterhorn with Sarah,” I say. Darryl rolls his eyes.

The sky is blue with only a hint of cloud cover — enough to blanket the sun when it gets too hot. I’m almost sweating, but a comfortable breeze gives us relief. It’s as if the wind knows exactly when it should blow today, sensing when the heat becomes too oppressive. The day is almost perfect.

Darryl and I play all the games, ride almost all of the rides and meet up with the other boys in our class to run through the funhouse. We eat ridiculous amounts of food and sweets that will surely rot our teeth. I have not seen Sarah all day. Darryl is growing impatient, telling me we should go stand in line for the Matterhorn.

“I want to play every game and ride every ride. The carnival is only here for one day. This is our last chance,” he pleads.

“Fine,” I say. We have fun together, but now the day will remain almost perfect instead of perfectly perfect.

We arrive at the Matterhorn and my heart skips a beat. Sarah is waiting. She has a smile on her face, and I smile back at her and wave. Lizzy is waiting, too, her arms crossed and with a frown on her face. How is it possible to be so unhappy at a carnival? Only Lizzy could accomplish that.

“We’ve been waiting over an hour!” Lizzy exclaims.

“Oh, it hasn’t been that long,” Sarah says.

Darryl is fidgeting. He straightens his shirt and when he thinks no one is looking he breathes into his hand to smell his breath. That’s when I realize that Darryl likes Lizzy. He says they should ride with each other. Sarah and I are together in one car, and three cars back are Darryl and Lizzy, who are quiet and look nervous.

Next to the platform I hear the mayor speaking with a man who has tattoos of strange symbols down his arms. The mayor is talking about the budget for the celebration, bankruptcy, and being unable to pay the balance due on the festivities. The man looks angry. He says the same impolite things my dad says when he is driving in heavy traffic, as well as some words in another language I don’t understand. 

The ride starts and I’m jolted from the conversation when Sarah grabs my hand in desperation. I look over at her and she smiles at me, but does not let go of my hand. We intertwine our fingers and I decide the day is finally perfectly perfect.

As we circle the track again and again, Sarah leans her head back and laughs and screams at the same time while her eyes are closed. Her hair is long and dark, and the wind whips it wildly, brushing it against my face. If I could send the wind a gift, I would. Of all nature’s elements it’s been the most kind to me. For now, I just whisper thank you.

When we slow to a stop, Sarah and I exhale. She only unlatches her fingers from mine at the very last minute when the ride technician lifts the safety bar, and we have to exit. Darryl is blushing and Lizzy is smiling uncontrollably. The girls giggle and rush off, saying goodbye in unison.

As we leave, I say to Darryl, “She held my hand for the entire ride.”

“Lizzy kissed me,” Darryl says.

Our eyes are both wide with surprise, and Darryl decides his day was perfectly perfect, too.

The next day I’m surprised to learn the carnival is not leaving. My mom and dad are having an adult conversation, the kind with hushed tones and innuendos they don’t think I understand. My dad is on the town council and has the inside scoop as my little sister likes to say.

“The mayor and treasurer are terrible at math. As a result, the carnival is not leaving, and a judge will have to issue a motion to vacate. The police chief will likely remove them by force,” dad says. I don’t know what a motion to vacate is, but it sounds serious.

I tell my mom I’m going over to Darryl’s house to play. I’m really going to see the carnival. When I arrive, it’s getting hot. There is no wind to present me with long lasting memories like before. The sun is sweltering, berating me constantly for befriending the wind. The only smell detectable now is the hot axle grease from the rides.

A small crowd of people play games like mourners at a funeral. They order food without eating and sit idle and expressionless on the Matterhorn as it spins around the central painted mountain view. I notice the mayor is the new ride technician and decide it’s time to leave.

The carnival remains. My parents look concerned, even more so than when I received a failing grade in history. They tell us what happened, knowing they can’t hide their emotions.

“The mayor, police chief and treasurer all work for the carnival now — as do several town council members,” dad says. 

School is in session for one more week before summer break. Half the kids in the class have parents who work for the carnival. Sarah is crying. Her mom left in the middle of the night without explanation, serves cotton candy and doesn’t recognize her or her dad. I want to hold her hand, but a voice inside tells me it’s not the right time.

My dad says he went to discuss the situation with the owner — the man with the strange tattoos. He apologizes and explains the township has no money to pay and asks if there is anything more that can be done. The man tells my dad what’s done is done and hearing this later my mom thinks we should move.

My sister is crying.

“We can’t have our end of the year class party. There are no teachers left. They all work for the carnival now,” she says.

We decide to pack up and leave. We go to stay with my grandparents in Florida. They’re excited to see us, and we talk about all the fun things we can do after we arrive. I already miss Sarah and Darryl. I’m scared that one day I will have to work for the carnival.

I open the window in the guest bedroom. My grandparents have central air in their house, and they keep it very cold. I’m chilly and need to feel the heat from the sun warming my body so that it will push the goosebumps back under my skin. Every time the wind blows through, I consider shutting the window. I’m scared of what might be riding on the breeze, reminding me that a debt must be paid. For this reason, the wind and I are no longer on speaking terms. 

“Is that the smell of cotton candy?” grandma asks.