Single Rider

A super-short story about two unexpected friends thrown together by heart wrenching circumstances.

Daphne was at a little less than the mid point of the line for the Scrambler, leaning on the shaky barrier that barely separated the patrons from certain death whenever the rides were in motion.

“Shingle ridah!” The ride operator called.

Daphne was staring at the ground, not thinking about anything, really. Just staring at the shimmering spots in the asphalt. Noticing a coin here, a hair barrette there. Although it wasn't too humid for early August, it was still sunny and hot. She'd been at the fair since the gates opened and, at this point, sweat beaded on every inch of her pencil thin frame, almost sticking to her like a second skin.

“We need a shingle ridah! Any shingle ridahs?”

This second call caught her attention and she stepped up to the front of the line. She was small for fourteen, could probably pass for twelve (not that she wanted to). She had knobby knees, and shoes that looked to be too big for her feet, though it was most likely just the shoe style. Despite all of this, she walked with a self assuredness, an air of confidence.

“I'm by myself,” she told the ride operator. Daphne noticed he had the same short sleeved shirt as all the other ride operators at the fair, stained in what looked to be the same spots as all the rest, except he tucked his sleeves so that his shoulders were exposed. The lines in his leathery face sank deeply from years of squinting in the sun, and he had a goatee that didn't quite connect at the corners of his mouth.

When he smiled the girl could see he was missing one of his front teeth. She flashed him her wristband.

“Okay, rod in nummer sheven wit that 'lil boy thar.”

She walked over and stepped up into the ride, the unsteady car giving way to her slight frame, and sat on the inside seat.

“Hi,” the boy said.

“Hi,” Daphne replied.

“My name's Jason.” He offered his hand across the space between them.

Daphne paused, tilting her head, slightly amused, and told him her name. “Are you scared?” She asked.

“Not really.”

The ride operator came to their car. “Ahms upp,” he said as he checked their seatbelt and swung the bar closed in front of them.

Jason leaned into the gap between them, “He smells like cigarettes,” he said in a near whisper.

“I know,” Daphne said, doing the the same.

After a momentary silence, she pointed out toward the barrier, “So, which of those ladies is your mom?”

“I'm not here with my mom. She's sick.”

“Oh. Well I'm sorry to hear that. So you're here with your dad, then?”

“No. He lives in Oregon.” Then Jason leaned over the gap and whispered again, “But I think he's actually in prison. My mom just doesn't want me to know that.”

Initially surprised by his comment, Daphne asked, “Why do you say that?”

“I've heard her talking to my grandma in Florida. She tries to keep it a secret, but I can tell.”

“Oh,” Daphne paused again, not sure how to respond. “How very clever of you.”

“Yes. My mom says I'm precocious”

“I don't know what that means.”

“It means I've developed certain abilities or proclivities at an earlier age than usual.”

“Huh...,” this made her pause yet again. “So you have.”

Just then the ride kicked in. Their cart slowly started spinning as the ride gyrated.

“Here we go,” Jason said, his voice rising to an excited pitch.

Daphne grabbed the retaining bar, the force pushing her back into the seat. A smile, which she was always hesitant to show, revealed her need for braces along with her delight.

As the ride's velocity grew, the force of it sent her to the outer edge of the car and nearer to Jason. Fearing, unnecessarily, that she would crush the boy, she braced herself with her left hand on the side of the cart, just over his head. They spun and twirled with the sound of the air, enthusiastic screeches, and cheesy 80s music rushing at them.

And then, out of nowhere, Jason looked up at Daphne and said, “When the light hits your hair it looks like it's raining sunshine.”

After a thrilling 90 seconds, the ride slowed down to a halt.

“Well, that was fun. Thanks for letting me ride with you,” Daphne said. “See you around.”

But before she walked away she notice an ever-so-slight sad look cross over Jason's face.

“You know, you never did tell me who you're here with,” she said.

“I'm here by myself,” Jason replied.

“Really?” Daphne was surprised, yet not surprised, to hear him say this. “You know what? My brother brought me but he ditched me for some of his friends. Maybe I'll just hang out with you.”

Jason smiled. “I'd like that.”

And so the two went off together, ride after ride. They braved the 360º vertical spin of the Kamikaze, defied gravity on the Round Up. Relaxed on the Waveswinger and Paratrooper. They bounced up and down as they raced in a circle on the Music Express (Daphne sitting on the outside seat of the car, of course, so not to crush Jason).

They laughed uncontrollably as they navigated the Funhouse, and she had to hold his hand on the haunted Ghost Train.

“How old are you, anyway? I never even asked,” Daphne said.

They were on the Ferris Wheel, looking out over the sunset drenched horizon, the silhouette of downtown Columbus off in the distance.

“Ten,” Jason replied. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Huh... I would've guessed twelve.”

“Ha ha. Don't remind me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So you're starting fifth grade this year. Excited?”

“Sixth, actually. I skipped a grade. They wanted me to skip two, but mom didn't think it was a good idea.”

After the Ferris Wheel, they walked through the midway and played a few games. Jason told Daphne how a man on YouTube showed people how to win at carnival games. After a while, Daphne's arms were full of stuffed toys he had won for her.

“Let me try one,” she asked.

After giving her some tips, and several failed attempts later, Daphne was able to win a small purple and yellow giraffe at the ring toss, which she immediately gave to Jason.

“His eyes are huge! And the lights from the rides make them so bright. It's like he's staring into my soul,” he said dramatically.

“Do you live around here?” Daphne asked.

“Not too far. Why?”

“Because I don't think I'll be able to find my brother. He probably left, the jerk. And it'd probably be best if someone walked you home.”

“Okay.”

On the way out they stopped to get an elephant ear.

When they got to Jason's house Daphne noticed it was dark, with the exception of the flickering of a television inside.

“Well,” she said as Jason opened the door, “I'll see you later.” And she started on her way home.

“Daphne,” Jason called after her.

“Yes?”

“I had a wonderful time.”

“Me, too.” She smiled.

Weeks later Daphne started her freshman year in high school. On one particular Wednesday she sat in the Library during study hall. She was pouring over recent issues of the Columbus Dispatch, section B to be specific, looking for any article that would help her define the role of local government for her Government class. It sounded a lot easier than it was turning out to be.

But all of that was inconsequential as one noteworthy article, in the August 5^th edition, caught her attention. The headline read: Boy may have lived with body for days.

As she read, it detailed how local police were called to an unspecified house to check on a woman who had been reported as missing by her employer. The woman had taken the previous week off, her employer stated, for vacation. He became concerned when she didn't return the following Monday.

When they arrived the police discovered the body of an adult female who, upon further investigation, had been dead for nearly a week. Though they were waiting for the results of a medical exam, foul play was not considered to be the cause of death.

Along side the woman was found a 9 or 10-year-old boy. He was reported to be in good spirits, watching cartoons and eating a bowl of cereal next to the body of his mother. He was described as precocious, and very attached to a small purple and yellow stuffed giraffe.

And Daphne thought to herself, With big, bright eyes.

Author's Note

Be kind. This is a good story. Inspired by true events. Publication ready, I think. I've been trying to get published, but haven't had much luck. Hoping someone will stumble on this.

Reviews

[Marie]

THis is really good, and it's definitely ready for publication. I didn't find any errors.

[fwvalidus]

I don't need to try to be kind, its a good story and it is well-written. I wish you the best of luck towards your publication pursuit. I was wondering if you could take a look at one of my chapters of a short story/novella I am working on, I would also like to learn more about what you are doing to try to get published! Cheers!