Southampton Spectacular (14 page)

Devon took Austin to the Helicopter Blade ride next.

He decided he would be ready for this one, that he would not let himself be shocked by the rickety construction of the ride. Because lots of people were going on these things every night, he told himself. And nothing ever happened. He had read no newspaper reports of Southampton carnival rides spontaneously rupturing, sending teenagers plummeting to their deaths.

Surely the local paper would cover such a thing.

So Austin set his jaw and told himself that it was a perfectly safe ride. A
sturdy
ride.

Which might have been fine, except that this was exactly the wrong type of preparation. Because the Helicopter Blade Screamer turned out to be thoroughly nauseating in its own right. The little compartment that he and Devon were sitting in didn’t simply spin around a central axis, as it would have done if they had been perched at the end of a single rotor. The rotor itself was also being flung around an asymmetrically located pivot point in a larger, more slowly-moving arc; the combination of these two mismatched, counter-rotating velocities created unpredictable motion inside the pod, and Austin could never be sure when he was going to be hurled into the side of the compartment, or into Devon.

Which was the one upside to all of this. A significant upside.

He emerged more shaken than the first time, and Devon was again laughing merrily. She had been laughing through most of the ride, especially when the two of them were mashed into one another. She took a minute to catch her breath, and Austin did the same. He began laughing along with her, though with more of a shaky, I’m-glad-we’re-on-the-ground tone. Abruptly, he stopped laughing. He put one hand on his stomach. The rest of the group came back over to check on them again; Nina had a plush stuffed banana under one arm, the result of eight failures and then one final, unprecedented success at the ring-toss game by Barnes. Net expenditure: $36. Net gain: one polyester stuffed banana worth approximately $2.35.

They all looked at Austin, silently gauging his level of distress.

“How’re you holding up?” James said to Austin, trying to sound encouraging.

Austin put on a brave face and responded with a nod. He said nothing. The hand on his stomach had moved to his forehead, where he had broken out in a fine sweat.

They watched him for another few seconds, and then Barnes broke the silence. “Okay, everybody needs a minute. We’ve had our games and our food. We’re heading over to the Round-up.”

Austin nodded again, but he still didn’t speak. Devon put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He turned, gave her a tight-lipped smile, and put up a single finger.

Wait here just a minute. Right back.

He jogged a few yards away, to the side of one of the game stands. He stood with his back turned to them, and he put one hand on the stand for support.

They could all tell what was coming. “All right, people,” Barnes said quickly. “Nothing to see here. Let’s get going.” He herded them along like a field-trip director, leaving only Devon behind. “We’ll come back in a minute to check on you two,” James said over his shoulder. “After the glory of the Round-Up. And then maybe James will go join Austin over there in the bushes.”

“Dream on,” James said, as they walked away. “I can hold down fried dough like it’s water.” And then, to Devon: “Seriously. We’ll be right back.”

Devon put up a hand in thanks, and she returned her attention to Austin, who was now leaning over. He was holding onto the game stand for support and –

She cast her eyes downward to give him a moment to himself. But she couldn’t help
hearing
him as she waited, and he didn’t sound good. Devon found herself wondering whether the carnival had really been the best first-date choice, even though it had been going so well up until now. They had been laughing. And getting close. And he
had
seemed to be having a good time, right?

Sure. But would he have picked a restaurant where there was a 50-50 shot of me getting food-poisoning and hurling my appetizer up onto the table cloth?

No. Probably not.

“You need a ride home?”

The voice behind her was deep, and not particularly kind. It was mocking. Devon picked her head up, turned, and found herself standing very close to one of two older, carelessly-dressed men. The smell of liquor was strong and clear. Both of them had their hats pulled low.

Always with the low hats
, she thought to herself.
They might as well just wear big signs around their necks:
We’re Jerks
.

The men were in their thirties, with two-day-old beard growth and plaid work shirts flapping over their t-shirts and jeans. Devon wondered if they worked at the carnival, or had come simply to troll for briefly-unattended sixteen-year-olds. They didn’t look like typical carnival patrons, mainly because of their age. There were men here in their thirties, yes. And even forties and fifties. But such men invariably had children with them. Or at least a date on their arm.

“I do
not
need a ride,” Devon said calmly, resisting the temptation to take a step back. They were in an open, well-lit, and public place, after all. Any urge to go running into the shadows was to be resisted. She looked straight at the man in front of her, and she managed to find his eyes under the brim of his cap.

The man pulled back a step, as if Devon had tried to poke him with a concealed stick. But then he stepped forward again just as quickly, angry at himself. “You likely
do
, though,” he said. “You need a ride
badly
, what I can see. And if Duane and I can help with that, we’d sure – ”

“Hi, there. What did I miss?”

Devon didn’t turn around. She kept her eyes on the man in front of her. “That’s my ride right there,” she said.

But the man didn’t budge. He glanced once at Austin without turning his head. He saw the green look on Austin’s face, the dark circles under his eyes, and decided he smelled weakness.

Which was a mistake.

“Who, prep-school there?” the man said, and smiled. “Duane’ll probably like to have a talk with him.”

Duane stepped forward, out of Devon’s peripheral vision. She resisted the urge to track him; the man before her seemed to be edging closer, as though waiting for the right moment to simply scoop her up and toss her into the cargo bed of a pickup truck somewhere. “You better back the fuck up,” she heard Duane say, and one instant later she heard a cracking noise, followed by a yelp of pain, and then a thump. She spun around in terror to find Austin crumpled on the dirt. Which made this officially
the
worst first date imaginable. Puking followed by assault. Perfect. And now the other guy was going to get his chance, he was going to just throw her over his shoulder and then –

Except that Austin
wasn’t
on the ground.

He was still standing right there. Looking down at Duane with a bright and barely-steady expression in his eyes. As though he were hoping Duane realized that while it was technically his
right
to get up, such a brash display of further resistance was not necessarily recommended.

But Duane was not getting up. The man who had been facing Devon jumped quickly to the side, and he ran to kneel down by his friend. “D?” He looked up at Austin with deep suspicion, as though Austin had been concealing a Taser or a set of brass knuckles somewhere under those prep-school clothes. Austin looked back down at him innocently. He took a breath, and that unsteady look went out of his eyes. In its place was the easy peace Devon had grown used to seeing. “I think his jaw may be broken,” Austin said.

The man stared at him with horror. “His
jaw?
What the hell did you – ”

“I’m going to call the police now,” Austin said amiably, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “Because this kind of thing is not okay.” He shrugged sadly as he keyed in the number, then held the phone to his ear. “Although I guess it’s up to you whether or not you and Duane are still around when they arrive.”

The man took a moment to think, weighing the possibility of waiting for the Southampton police force. It was
his
friend on the ground, after all, and –

But then he shook his head, dismissing the idea. Drunk day laborers vs. teenaged girl and her boyfriend. Even if Duane were dead, there’d still be no question as to who got the blame. He hefted Duane’s unconscious bulk up onto his shoulders with a grunt and staggered off toward their pickup. “Eat shit,” he called over his shoulder.

Austin put up a hand and waved. His face was still green, but his brown eyes were very clear now. He closed the cell phone quietly and put it back in his pocket. He took a long, deep breath, and he turned to Devon. “Everything okay?”

She stared at him for a minute. “I guess so,” she said. “How did you…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to sound insulting, but she didn’t think being good at swimming or tennis was supposed to mean much when it came to fighting. And yes, Austin was a good size, probably 6’2’’, but he was also lean. He was lean, and he was young. Eighteen. And he had just finished throwing up his dinner behind a game stand.

And by the way, Duane was not lean
.
Not lean at all
.

“How did you do that?” she asked finally.

Austin shrugged. “Have you ever seen two men right
before
a fight? Not a boxing match, but a fight on the street?”

Devon thought for a moment. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Austin went on: “The thing is, most of the time neither one of them actually wants to do any fighting. So they try to intimidate each other by standing very, very close. Face-to-face, chest-to-chest. Which is fine for acting tough, except that bellying up to someone is a bad idea if there’s going to be any actual contact.” He shook his head, then rubbed his stomach again, as though regretting something he had eaten for lunch that day. “It’s an especially bad idea if you’re the one who gets hit
first
. Close range, almost impossible to defend. One quick motion like this – ” Austin raised his right hand suddenly, palm back and open, like a waiter carrying an invisible tray. “ – and you’ve knocked the guy out with a sucker punch. Maybe broken his jaw, too. It depends.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Nope. But this seemed like a good time to try it out, because that guy assumed he could just scare me away. Which he almost could, by the way. They didn’t seem nice. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Devon looked at him in wonder. “Am
I
sure? Weren’t you afraid you were going to get hurt?”

“Are you kidding? Petrified. Didn’t you see those guys? They looked like they were ready to eat us both for breakfast.”

“
I
know that. But what I’m saying is that
you
don’t seem scared.”

Austin smiled at her, and she almost had to kiss him right then and there. She resisted the impulse with difficulty. “I’m not so scared
now
,” he said. “But that’s because they’re off in a pick-up truck somewhere. How long am I supposed to keep shaking?”

She threw up her hands in resignation. As though tired of trying to explain to him the basics of fear. Instead, she tried to think of something normal to say. For a minute, nothing would come. There was that impulse to kiss him again, but she fought it off.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked finally. “How’s your stomach?”

He made a see-saw motion with his hand. She could see that his color was starting to come back. “Give me another minute. And yes, maybe we should get that drink. But then I’ll be ready for the Zipper.”

“No one’s ever ready for the Zipper,” Devon said, and she smiled. “I’m not ready for it, and I’ve been on it three times.”

“But I get to sit next to you, right?”

She sighed. And then nodded helplessly. “That’s right.”

“Okay, then.”

3

They went to the concession stands and bought two cups of overpriced, watered-down soda and an order of fried dough with confectioner’s sugar, which they shared on a bench that looked as though it might collapse. James and Barnes and Nina and Florin got done with their ride on the Round-up, and they came to find them on the bench.

“He looks better,” James said to Devon, pointing at Austin. “You do. You look better. And eating well. Nice job.”

Austin’s mouth was full of dough and sugar, so Devon answered for him. “He does look better, yes. And he thanks you. He’s feeling hungry because he just laid a guy out.”

“What?”

“Well,” Devon said, sounding philosophical, “apparently it’s very dangerous to belly up to someone if you’re not prepared to get hit.”

James and Barnes nodded wisely at this, as though they had been anticipating a discussion on combat tactics.

True. Very true. We’ve often said exactly that. No bellying up.

Nina and Florin both shook their heads, and Nina put up a hand in protest. “What?” She looked at Austin, then back at Devon. “We’ve been gone for like five whole minutes,” Nina said. “What have you two been
doing
?”