Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

3

Ruby

Twenty Years Before

Ruby & Bennett are Ten Years Old

So,that’s The Grizzly.

Honeywood Fun Park’s new roller coaster towers over us like a behemoth, glistening with an orange track and polished wood. I can already smell it too—all Honeywood coasters have that type of scent, like used brakes and rubber that reminds me of hot summers and damp boat rides. As the train rumbles over the track, taking the first edge with a jarring turn that has riders screaming with joy, my pulse races.

Where the heck is Bennett?

Miranda puts a hand on my shoulder. I jump.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Mmhmm.”

This isn’t my first roller coaster. I’ve ridden The Beesting with its free-falling drop, Bumblebee’s Flight with its continuous loops, and even the purple terror that is Buzzard of Death. I’ve designed more coasters than that, too, with steeper falls and more loops. The bigger and badder, the better. All of my sketchbooks are packed with wild ideas. But riding them is a different story if my best friend isn’t here to hold my hand the whole time.

We’ve waited one year to finally ride The Grizzly because Bennett’s mom couldn’t find time away from work. I ended up begging my dad to take us instead.

“Well then, are you getting on?” Dad asks.

“I’m waiting on Bennett.”

Miranda smirks.

Dad’s assistant is a working businesswoman, just like my mom, except she travels way less. She always looks a little angry, and the only soft thing about her is her angelic blonde hair.

Dad, standing on the other side of her with his hands in his pockets, blows out air. “You’d think he could be here on time.”

“His mom works a lot,” I say.

I rise to my tiptoes to look through the crowd. It’s hot in Honeywood today. The blacktop radiates through the soles of my sneakers, and beads of sweat already trickle down my back. I place my hand to my temple to block out the sun, but I halt when I see someone staring back at me.

But not just someone.

Michael Waters.

Michael is one year older than me and really, really cute. He’s tall, and he has freckles all along his nose that somehow make him look nice even though they make me look really stupid. His dark hair even does that swooping thing that I’ve only ever seen on MTV.

And, holy cow, he’s looking right at me.

His mouth pulls into a slow, lazy smile, like he can’t be bothered to lift the other side of his lips too. It’s so effortless. It’s so cool. My chest feels like it’s filled with glitter. I’m a kaleidoscope of nerves.

“Who’s that?” Miranda says, nudging me. “You like him?”

My head jerks to her. She’s staring at Michael too, head tilted to the side in that beautiful way of hers that I couldn’t imitate even if I tried.

“What?” I scoff. “No.”

Dad’s eyebrows pull in. I can feel my face heat, and I wonder if the sun has already burned me that fast. I swear I put on sunscreen.

“Oh, come on, Ruby.” Miranda snickers. “He’s totally cute.”

I shift from foot to foot. Well, of course he’s cute. He’s Michael with his black hair and blue eyes and every-day-of-the-week football jerseys. And he’s looking at me.

I jump at the sound of a loud squeal, and some girl runs past us, long, beautiful legs extending into a run, before she barrels into Michael’s arms. Her skin is dark and smooth—not bombarded with dumb freckles or caked in layers of sunscreen.

He wasn’t looking at me at all.

“Oh,” Miranda says.

Yeah. Oh.

But just before I turn away, I finally see someone else sidestepping through the crowd. It’s a much more familiar face, and any of the shimmering in my chest that shone for Michael gets ramped up to a billion when I see my best friend.

Bennett has no idea where he’s going. He’s looking through the arms of an older man in suspenders, glancing around a stroller, and stumbling into a scene where a man is on one knee in front of a woman. His hands fall by his sides in frustration. When Bennett tries to apologize, he accidentally knocks over a cup on the fountain’s ledge, fumbles it, and places it back.

My best friend is a mess, but my mouth still twitches into a smile.

“It’s a crush, Ruby,” Miranda says. “It’s totally normal.”

A crush? On Bennett?

But then I notice she’s still staring at Michael.

Oh.

Well, that’s not right. I don’t have a crush on Michael, do I? Not when I get those same weird feelings around Bennett, and I know for a fact that I definitely don’t like, like him. He’s my best friend—not a crush.

“You should tell him, girlie,” she says.

A nervous laugh bubbles out of me like a shaken soda can.

“Michael? No, no, no.”

She straightens her spine, spreading her palms over the fabric of her skirt. “Take what you want in life. That’s what I do.” Her eyes cut over to my dad when she says it.

I look back out in the crowd, and Bennett’s already running toward us with the biggest grin.

Bennett got braces this summer, and now, every time he smiles, green little bubbles stare back at me. When he first got them, we wanted to see how many pieces of spaghetti we could wind through them, but when his mom saw us with the box of noodles, she instead gave us her sewing kit and sat with us while I threaded Bennett’s teeth with pink string. We couldn’t stop laughing for an hour.

“Hey, Rubes.” He’s out of breath after running to us, pushing his fingers through his messy black hair that now falls around his neck like a lion’s mane.

He’s gotten taller. I don’t remember when it happened, but one day, my neck started hurting from looking at him so long, and I realized we weren’t the same height anymore.

“You’re late,” I observe. “You okay?”

His hand is on my lower back, steadying me closer to him so he can hear my words when I speak. I like how he smells today. He has some unique blend of his mom’s coffee and pancake syrup and sweat, but under all of that, Bennett’s hair always smells like strawberries.

He sighs. “Sorry. Mom couldn’t get off work in time.”

“Oh. It’s okay. That stinks though.”

Bennett waves his hand at me. “It’s fine. Anyway, happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday to you too!”

“Mom has your carrot cake at the house whenever you want.”

I squint. “Did you eat some of it?”

“With these?” he says, poking his braces. “No way. Carrots would get all stuck.”

“You don’t fool me, rabbit,” I tease.

He barks out a laugh with his head tilted back. “Got me.”

My stomach feels like glitter all over again.

A crush.

No, Miranda is wrong. This isn’t what a crush feels like.

I glance over at Michael, still leaning against the queue line for The Grizzly with his hands in his pockets, looking up with the arc of his neck pointing to the sky.

I pull in a sharp inhale, and it takes a moment to swallow.

Now, that might be a crush.

“All right, children, we doing this or not?” Dad asks.

I stiffen for a moment, but Bennett nudges me to enter The Grizzly’s queue.

“Go on, Rubes.”

“You first.”

“Chicken.”

“Baby.”

“Scaredy-cat.”

We both run through, trying to race to the end of the line. After waiting another hour, we finally get on the ride, and Bennett sits next to me, as promised. My hands grip the lap bar, and right when we jolt forward, he takes my hand in his.

The Grizzly turns out to be wonderful, full of swoops and dips and everything I imagine a perfect roller coaster would be. I’m convinced whoever made it is a genius. I’m convinced even more that I want to be a genius designer too.

The sun exhausts us after we ride The Grizzly one more time, so we run to The Canoodler instead since it’s indoors and cool. I lean my head on Bennett’s shoulder, just like my mom does to my dad. I see why she does; it’s relaxing. I don’t remember some of the ride because I drift off a little. And when I open my eyes, Bennett has his head on top of mine, so I wonder if he fell asleep too.

Once we’ve ridden everything at least once—and The Grizzly four times—Dad, Miranda, and I shuffle into the car. I wave at Bennett, who’s getting into his mom’s car as we pull out of the lot.

Dad’s eyes dart up to the rearview mirror. “So, how was today, honey?”

“Good,” I say.

“And what was your favorite part?”

I smile again, but my cheeks hurt from all the smiling I’ve done today. All I can think about is Bennett. Riding The Grizzly, screaming on The Beesting, eating too many pancakes, and then my nap on his shoulder.

“I slept with Bennett.”

There’s a screech. My seat belt jerks forward. Our car comes to a halt in the middle of the road. There’s a honk behind us.

“You what?!”

I suddenly realize what I said and how it sounded, but all I hear is Miranda cackling in the front seat.