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Price Of Admission

Everything in the trailer park was dull. There was too much dirt and dust for anything to retain its shine. Not even the cars there glinted like the ones in town did when the light caught them just right. The Buick Adam's father had up on blocks in the carport was as grimy as everything else, no matter how many times Adam tried to polish up the fenders.

He had found a dog tag once, lost or abandoned in the empty lot that backed the trailer park, and scrubbed at it with the hem of his t-shirt enough to get through the mud that had caked up on it. It couldn't have been too old because, once he'd done that, he could make it wink at him if he held it up to the sun at just the right angle. He'd carried that tag around in his pocket for a month, taking it out every chance he could to admire that novel little flash of brightness, before his mother had found it and, pinch-faced and disapproving, thrown it away.

Bright, shiny things just weren't for people like them. Adam learned that lesson. He stopped looking for them.

And then the county fair came to Henrietta.

Adam probably wouldn't even have heard about it, but the elementary school was close enough to the fairgrounds that he could just see the top of the Ferris wheel from the playground. Even in the daylight, it seemed to shine so bright it almost hurt Adam's eyes to look at it. Big metal beams that caught the sun just right, like the dog tag times a hundred. Twinkling lights in red and green and blue and pink and yellow and purple and not a hint of brown or gray in sight.

Adam had never seen anything like it.

He had to go.

Trouble was, he found out from another kid in his class, that it cost money to get in. Sam said his momma was gonna take the night off of work to take him to the fair on Thursday and he'd saved up his allowance all month to afford the ticket price: $15.

Adam didn't have $15. He didn't have a momma who would take him either, not even if he worked up the courage to ask her to. He didn't even entertain the idea of asking his dad; it made his bruised cheekbone ache to even think about it.

No, if he was going to go to the fair—and, by god, he was—then he was going to have to figure out how to do it himself. And he only had a week to do it before the fair up and left without him, taking all its bright lights and shininess with it.

Adam spent that week scrounging for loose change. He picked up every nickel and dime he came across on the street. He convinced the lady in the trailer next to theirs that her yard was in desperate need of mowing and it was worth a few bucks to let him do it for her. He even dared to skim a few quarters off the change from the corner store before he gave it back to his dad.

He climbed the jungle gym every day to watch that Ferris wheel shine.

By the end of the week, Adam had collected $12.24.

It wasn't enough. Especially not when taking the bus as far out as he could—still half a mile from the fairgrounds; he'd have to walk the rest of the way—would cost him one of those dollars.

Adam wasn't the kind of kid who cried about not getting things he wanted. He was far too used to not getting anything for that. But as he stared down at his handful of crumpled bills and grimy coins that Sunday, the last day before the fair packed up, he felt stubborn, frustrated tears burning at the backs of his eyes. The empty back lot of the trailer park stretched out before him. Dust, dust, and more dust, gray and brown as far as the eye could see.

He couldn't stand it.

Adam shoved his money in the pocket of his cargo pants, wiped the tears from his eyes with dusty hands, and headed for the bus station. Maybe he couldn't actually get in, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least see that Ferris wheel up close. Just once.

It was dark by the time he made it to the fairgrounds. It was getting chilly, especially with him sweaty from walking so far from the last bus stop, and his pinchy too-small shoes were giving him blisters, but the fair sprawled out in front of him in all of its glory. Not just the Ferris wheel but dozens of rides, all glittering like the world's biggest arcade games. There was music playing too, the kind that came out of ice cream trucks on TV shows, and everything smelled like sugar and fried food.

It was the most beautiful thing Adam had ever seen and the hunger bit him up inside. The eleven dollars in his pocket mocked him with its inadequacy.

There was a bunch of people by the fence gates. Probably three or four dozen all milling around, waiting to buy tickets at the little kiosk or vying to present the ones they had to one of the security guards. There were only two of those. They looked a little run off their feet by the crowd.

Adam looked at the guards. He looked at all those people, loud and demanding. He looked at the big, wide-open gate. One of the kids in line was making a fuss, curly blond head thrown back as he wailed to the heavens and clung to his father's leg. The father had a big white smile and the full attention of both guards on him. He was saying something about corndogs.

Adam gripped the dollar bills in his pocket, heart in his throat, and made a break for it. It was the only chance he was going to get. The guard was looking the other way, and Adam was small and fast and real good at not drawing attention to himself. It wasn't hard to slip around behind him and dash through that big, wide-open gate.

For a second, Adam was in and everything was glorious.

Then a heavy hand closed around Adam's upper arm. Fear shot through him like blood in the water. He barely even heard the security guard ask what he thought he was doing, demanding to see his ticket. Everything had gone distant and a little fuzzy, lights dimmed and music muffled in his ears.

He definitely heard it, though, when the guard said, “I'm gonna have to call your parents, kid, have them come get you.”

No. No, no, no.

Adam might've been sick right then and there if it weren't for another voice, barely familiar, cutting into the one-sided conversation.

“No need for that! This one's mine.”

The man that spoke was tall and dark-haired and handsome with curly hair just long enough to tuck behind his ears. He had a charming smile full of bright white teeth, very blue eyes, and some kind of accent. Irish maybe? Adam couldn't be sure of that, but he was sure that this was the man who'd been at the ticket booth just a minute ago, the one with the loud kid.

Now he'd sidled up beside Adam and put a hand on his shoulder. Not holding on, like the guard, just resting there. Adam didn't dare to even breathe.

The guard looked at the newcomer with narrowed eyes. “Yours?” The word positively dripped with skepticism. Adam's heart was racing fit to burst.

The man squeezed his shoulder. “Sure is. Little rascal was too impatient to wait in line a minute longer. What did you think you were going to do without this, lad?”

The man held out a little strip of plasticky paper, neon green with white ends—a wristband. The one they gave you when you showed your ticket. The one they scanned to let you on the rides. The one that said you were supposed to be here.

Adam looked up at him, uncomprehending.

The guard was still squinting between them, probably taking in Adam's dust-colored hair and duller eyes and tanned skin and deciding there was absolutely no way on heaven or earth that he could be this man's son. Before he could make the accusation, another kid came careening into the man's legs, all riotous blond curls. He said, “Dad, dad, dad! When do I get a corndog?”

Two older boys followed in his wake, panting a little like they'd had to chase the little one down, both with the same curls but dark to match their father. One of them had a pinched, disapproving look on his face. The other eyed Adam with a scowl. Neither of them said anything to contradict their dad, though, when he said, “We'll get you fed as soon as this fine officer of the law lets go of your brother here.”

They all waited expectantly. Finally, the guard let go. “Try to keep better track of your kids, sir,” he said, still frowning.

Adam's new father gave him a wink. “Won't let him out of my sight. On my honor.”

The guard returned to his station and Adam was left alone with a strange man and his three actual kids. The little one was looking at Adam with wide, eager eyes. He was probably seven or eight years old.

“We have another brother?” he asked. He sounded thrilled by the prospect.

The pinch-faced one, who looked a little older, maybe twelve, rolled his eyes. “No, Matthew, he's not actually our brother. Dad was just lying to get him out of trouble.”

Adam's face burned. He shrugged out from under the hand still on his shoulder. “You didn't have to do that.”

That sounded rude.

He hastily added, “Sir.”

The man didn't get angry like his real father would have. He only laughed. “No need for formality, boy-o. Call me Niall if you call me anything. Here, take it.”

He held out the wristband again. Adam looked at Niall's wrist, and Matthew's, and the other two boys'. They all had bands of their own, which meant that Niall had actually bought another ticket just for him. He'd paid actual money to keep Adam out of trouble, because Adam had done something stupid.

“You didn't have to do that either,” Adam snapped. “I was gonna buy my own.”

The middle boy, dark hair a mess and lip curled up, scoffed at him. “If you were gonna buy a ticket, then why were you sneaking in?”

Adam glared at the boy, but he couldn't exactly argue. Instead, he snatched out all the money he had in his pockets and held it out to Niall.

Niall blinked at the handful of small bills and change in surprise. He considered the stubbornness on Adam's face for a moment. Then he took the cash without comment—without counting it either—and tucked it into his own pocket with a nod. He held out the wristband one more time.

Reluctantly, Adam took it.

“There's a good lad,” Niall said. He didn't offer to help as Adam struggled to get it fastened around his wrist properly. Adam found that he liked him more for that.

When Adam was done, he shifted from foot to foot. “Thank you, sir,” he made himself say, because he had manners and he knew better than to forget them. He didn't have anything else to say, though.

With the wristband on, it finally occurred to him that he was in. Really in. He was at the fair, behind the gates, with a funnel cake stand on one side of him and a Tilt-O-Whirl on the other and the Ferris wheel closer to him than it had ever been.

When Matthew tugged on Niall's pant leg enough to get him moving, at last, in the direction of a stand with a giant fake corndog on the top of it, Adam took the opportunity to slip away in the opposite direction. Or, at least, he tried to. He hadn't gotten five feet before the oldest boy had snagged him by the t-shirt.

“Are you stupid?” he demanded. “Wandering around here by yourself. Do you want to get kidnapped? Because that's how you get kidnapped. Ever heard of stranger danger?”

Adam scowled at him. “You're strange,” he felt the need to point out.

The middle boy let out an unexpected bark of laughter. He shoulder-checked his brother and said, “He's got you there, Deklo.”

Deklo shoved him. “Shut up, Ronan! And quit calling me that. It's so dumb.”

“Deklo, Deklo, Deklo,” was Ronan's counterargument.

“It's Declan,” Adam was informed with a huff. “Don't wander off if you want to live.”

Declan stomped up to walk with his dad instead. Ronan snickered, looking very pleased with himself. Then he settled in at Adam's side. All around them were bright colors and loud noises and attention-grabbing displays, but he just looked at Adam.

“So why were you sneaking in, huh?” he asked, blue eyes bright and curious. “If you were gonna buy your own ticket.”

Adam kicked a rock. Even it was shinier than the rocks he was used to, all glittering angles, almost like a piece of gold. He nearly picked it up to put in his pocket and take home with him, but his mom would probably find it and throw it away like she'd done the dog tags. “Maybe I just felt like it.”

Ronan nodded like that made perfect sense. “You gonna get a corndog? Matthew's been begging for corndogs all week. He won't shut up about them, it's so annoying.”

Adam said, “No.”

“What, you got something against corndogs?”

Adam had never had one. It didn't matter. He didn't have any more money anyway. Again, he said, “No.”

This time Ronan rolled his eyes, though he didn't seem displeased. “Is that your favorite word?”

Adam raised his head to look Ronan in the eye. “No.”

Ronan laughed. It was a big sound, louder than all the clinking, clattering games around them. It made Adam want to smile. He ducked his head back down to hide it.

When he looked up again, the father—Niall, he'd called himself—was craning his neck to look back at them. Making sure Adam hadn't run off, probably. He'd paid for him to get in here, after all, and stuck his neck out with the security guard. Adam bit the inside of his cheek and walked a little faster to catch up to him.

Their destination was, of course, the corndog stand. The littlest one, Matthew, was vibrating with excitement by the time his dad put the treat in his pudgy little hand. Declan and Ronan both got their own too. Niall didn't get one for Adam, though he hesitated in the middle of his order like he thought about it, like he was waiting to see if Adam would ask for one. Adam didn't, even though he hadn't eaten any dinner before getting on the bus and his stomach was twisty with hunger.

That was fine. He was used to being hungry. Used to being hungry while other people weren't, too. He hadn't come here expecting to eat anything, or even get in, so he stood by and watched the crowds of people swarm around them, all gathering in lines for the enormous contraptions full of other people screaming with laughter. He'd never seen anything as big as those rides. It made him a little dizzy just to look at them.

A pudgy hand tugged on his sleeve. Adam looked down to find Matthew's big blue eyes very close to him. The kid was holding out half of what Adam thought might be a second corndog. Adam didn't realize Matthew meant for him to take it until he gave it a little shake.

“Oh,” Adam said. “No, that's alright. It's yours. I wouldn't want to—”

Matthew's face screwed up in a little pout. “But you didn't get one!”

“That's okay, I don't need one. Thank you, though.”

Matthew looked positively distraught. “But it's the fair!”

Clearly, this was important to him. Adam looked around and found the other three all watching him. Ronan obviously thought the situation was funny. Declan looked like he was daring Adam to do anything that would upset his baby brother further. Niall looked like he was trying very hard not to look like anything.

Gingerly, Adam took the corndog. “Thank you, Matthew. That's very kind of you.”

Matthew beamed at him, and he kept beaming expectantly until Adam took a bite. It was better than anything Adam had ever eaten in his short and unsatisfying life. He really wished he could be mad about it—he'd almost certainly never get to eat anything this tasty ever again and it was always worse when you knew what you were missing—but Matthew looked so happy about it that he couldn't manage. The cramp in his chest that came from knowing Niall had paid for this was fought off with the certainty that if Adam didn't eat it, Matthew would have. It wasn't something he'd bought just for Adam, so it wasn't something Adam needed to pay him back for. His debt was still only $3.76.

Now that Matthew's craving had been satisfied, the family seemed content to wander. The packed dirt aisles were full of other families, high school kids out on dates, everybody talking loud and squeezing past each other and bumping together. Matthew took Declan's hand and dragged him, protesting halfheartedly, from one side to the other to look at every game and vendor stall they passed. Ronan, though, stuck by Adam again. Adam expected him to say something, ask more questions, but he didn't. He was chewing on one of his hoodie strings, both hands shoved in the kangaroo pocket, apparently content to just walk alongside him.

Adam, in his short sleeves, tried not to be jealous of the hoodie. He only had one jacket, and he'd left it at the trailer instead of going back inside for it and letting his mom see him. She probably wouldn't have asked what he was doing—she usually didn't bother—but she might have, and Adam hadn't wanted to risk her telling him outright that he couldn't come here. Then his dad would've heard about it for sure and the plan would've been ruined and all his hard work all week would've been for nothing.

This place, with its bright lights and its raucous energy, was worth being cold for. It might even be worth owing a stranger $3.76, even if all he got to do was walk around and look at it all.

There were rides everywhere, lining every path they walked down, and the Ferris wheel was tucked away in the farthest corner of the fair, towering over everything else. Adam had known it would be big, seeing as he could see the top of it all the way from his school, but it was different to be this close to it. Every spoke of it was lit up with a rainbow that blinked and flashed and danced like crazy. It hurt his eyes a little bit, but he wasn’t going to look away, not when he knew this was his only chance to take it all in. He’d have to store up this feeling inside him and hope it lasted him a while. He was good at making meager things last.

Niall sidled up alongside him. His face was turned up too, colored with blue and green and pink as he watched the wheel go around. He glanced down at Adam, too casual to actually be casual, and said, “A real beauty, that one.”

They were right near where the line started. There weren’t many people waiting, at least not compared to the other rides that were more exciting than just sitting down and moving in a slow circle. Niall made no move to join the queue, though, and there was a sign on the gate with a required height that was definitely taller than Matthew was.

Adam fiddled with his little paper bracelet. “Yes, sir.” He turned away from the line. He could keep on just looking. That was okay. It was already more than he ever should’ve gotten in the first place, and this way nobody had to waste their time standing around waiting for him while he rode rides he hadn’t even fully paid for, because he was sure that Niall would. He was still peering down at him, face pinched up like he was thinking hard.

Before he’d finished thinking, Matthew came careening over to crash into his legs, grinning ear to ear. “Dad! Dad! Can I ride that one?” He pointed at something labeled the Zipper where people in a cage were being swung violently in all kinds of directions, screaming to high heavens.

Declan, jogging over in Matthew’s wake, took one look at the thing and muttered, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Why would you want to?”

“For fun,” Ronan said, with a huge roll of his eyes, “not that you’d know anything about that. You wouldn’t do something fun if they paid you for it.” He elbowed Adam in the side, grinning like he’d won the argument and he thought Adam should be impressed by it. Adam wasn’t, but he did think the way Declan flushed was funny, so he grinned back a little bit anyway.

“You know they disassemble these things and put them back together again in every town they stop in, right?” Declan said. “They’re death traps. They could fall apart any second.”

Ronan scoffed. “What, you think the carnies don’t know how to build their own rides? They do this all the time! It’s fine!”

“They’re not carnies, Ronan.”

“Are too!”

“This is a fair, not a carnival. They can’t be carnies because it isn’t a carnival, dumbass.”

Ronan immediately flung his arm out over Adam’s head, wailing, “Dad! Declan called me a dumbass!”

Adam flinched. Not because of the hand flying right at him, though usually that would be plenty, even if it wasn't actually aimed that way. Mostly for the words. It wasn't that he hadn't heard language like that before—his daddy said worse every day. It was just that Adam knew if he ever said words like that to his dad, or even just where his dad could hear, it would end real ugly. He didn't get to say things like that, no matter how much his dad said them himself. Curse words, like most things, weren't for him.

Niall, though. He didn't start swinging. He didn't yell or sneer. He didn't even look mad. He just laughed. It was a booming laugh that seemed to take up acres of space, like Ronan's had been but even bigger. His head flew back, curly hair bouncing all over the place as his shoulders shook, and his eyes all but disappeared from how crinkled up they were.

He reached out and tweaked Declan's ear. “Always the caution one, eh, tomcat?”

Declan swatted his hand away, annoyed but not hurt. Not even scared. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, primly, “Excuse me for caring about structural integrity.”

Adam didn't know what structural integrity was and he was pretty sure Ronan didn't either, but that didn't stop Ronan from whacking his dad in the arm and saying, “Well, I don't. I wanna ride it. Dad, can I ride it?”

Niall, still chuckling, ruffled Ronan's mop of dark curls. “You need another year or two under your belt before you're ready for that one, boy-o.”

Ronan made a face, but he didn't argue. He pointed up at the Ferris wheel instead. “Okay, okay, but what about that one? I can ride that one at least, right?”

Niall looked at Ronan. Then he looked at the Ferris wheel. The he looked at Adam, who looked away quick.

“Sure,” Niall said. Then, before Ronan could run off, he added, “If this one here will go with you.”

Adam looked back up at even quicker then he'd looked away. “Who, me?”

Niall grinned, all white teeth and sly, crinkly eyes. “What's your name, lad?”

Adam hadn't realized he'd never introduced himself. So much for good manners. He gritted his teeth and said, “I'm Adam, sir.”

“Well, Adam.” Niall waved his hand, the gesture grand enough to include anything and everything. “No one goes off on their own around here. For safety, of course.” He winked. “If Ronan wants to ride, he needs somebody to ride with him. But Declan's made his opinion clear, and they won't let wee lads like Matthew on in case they go flying off.”

Matthew looked suddenly stricken, like the idea of falling out hadn't occurred to him before. Declan snorted.

Ronan, for his part, was looking at Adam, all wide eyes and pink cheeks. Or maybe that was just a trick of the lights.

Adam's face felt hot too, though, and that had nothing to do with the lights. He gripped his paper bracelet tight and said, “What about you? Why can't you ride with him?”

Niall patted Matthew on the head. “I have to look after this little menace,” he said. “Make sure he doesn't cause any mischief.” Any previous distress was immediately forgotten—Matthew looked downright delighted at the idea of being considered a troublemaker, though it was obvious he didn't have a mischievous bone in his body. “Besides,” Niall added with a dramatic stretch and grimace, “It's a young man's game, this. I'm getting far too old for it. I'll keep myself on solid ground.”

He was lying. He had to be. Even though Niall had at least one kid bigger than Adam, he wasn't anywhere near as old as Adam's dad was. Or, at least, he didn't seem to be. There was a little bit of gray poking out right at Niall's temple, but he was otherwise bright and quick and full of energy. Adam's dad wasn't like that at all. He was dull and slow with dirt ground into every wrinkle on his hard face. He and Adam's mom both seemed ancient sometimes, like they were one wrong step away from collapsing into dust like a mummy. Maybe being poor made them seem older than they really were. Maybe being mean did.

It didn't matter. Adam couldn't exactly call Niall a liar to his face, even if he was one. On his other side, Ronan had stuffed one of his hands even further into his pocket. His face tried to say he didn't care one way or the other whether Adam agreed or not, but he was chewing on the fingers of his other hand like he had his hoodie strings earlier. He caught Adam looking at him. He spit out his fingers and made a face at him.

“You got something against rides?” he asked, like he had with the corndogs.

Adam scowled at him. “No.”

“What, then? Are you scared?”

Adam scowled even harder. “No!”

“Maybe he’s just actually got some common sense,” Declan muttered.

“No!” Adam flushed. “No, that’s not what I— I didn’t mean—” He almost ripped his bracelet off he was clutching at it so hard. This whole thing was stupid. He didn't belong in a place like this, with all its light and color, or a family like this, with its joyful, laughing father. He should be at home in the trailer with his ugly, old, mean father and the dull, dusty, dirty fields full of nothing. That's what he deserved. He never should've come here.

But he had. And the Ferris wheel was right there, blinking down at him like a galaxy of multicolored stars. Adam wanted so bad the idea of getting made him sick.

Ronan grabbed his hand.

“Quit being a baby about it,” he said, pink-cheeked and stubborn. “Come ride with me.”

Adam wanted to bite his hand off. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. He wanted to scream and cry and curse and all the other things he wasn't ever allowed to do if he knew what was good for him.

He let Ronan drag him into the line.

There were only a handful of people in front of them, so they didn't have to wait long. Ronan spent the time bouncing on the balls of his feet, still holding tight to Adam's hands like he thought Adam might run away the second he let go. The ride attendant made them both stand up against the sign to make sure they were tall enough to get on, and then they were being ushered in a ramshackle bucket-shaped cart and told to keep their hands and feet inside at all times.

The Ferris wheel ground into motion.

It went up and up and up, and Adam went with it, up and up and up. Everything below fell away. There was nothing around him but bright light and endless, open sky.

For a second, Adam couldn't breathe from it. It felt like his lungs were gonna expand endlessly with no gravity to force him to exhale again, like he would fly apart without the weight of the atmosphere above to hold him together.

It was awful. It was terrifying.

It was the best feeling he'd ever felt, being one of the stars.

Then the ride juddered to a stop with them about halfway up. The cart lurched and swung and it took Adam's feet with it, pulling them out from underneath him. He had to grab onto the side to keep from falling over. Suddenly, he was looking down instead of up, and that was a mistake because down turned out to be a very long way. He could make out the rest of the family down on the ground, but only because of Matthew’s mop of shiny blond hair, they were so small. Adam was reminded of the little boy’s face when Niall had said he’d go flying off, of Declan’s furious mutterings about these things being death traps that could fall apart any minute.

The screws holding the lock in place on the cart’s door looked rusty. How much rust was too much rust before they started falling apart? The beat up old car his daddy had up on blocks in the garage back home had a bumper rusty enough that the edges would crumble to pieces if he touched it too hard. These screws didn’t look that bad, and neither did the hinges, but what did Adam know? He didn’t even know what structural integrity was, how was he supposed to judge if this thing was about to break in half and send him crashing back down to the ground a million miles away?

“Are you scared?”

Adam jumped and bashed his elbow into the door. It hurt something fierce, but he didn’t have time to care about that when the whole cart wobbled again. He gripped the side, white-knuckled, until it stopped moving. In all his wonder, and then all his worrying, he had almost forgotten that Ronan was up here with him. He turned—gingerly—to find Ronan sprawled out on one of the bench seats, hoodie string back in his mouth.

“What?” Adam asked.

“I said, are you scared?”

Ronan had asked that before, back on the ground. It had been a little bit mean then, meant to make Adam feel bad, to challenge him into coming along even if he was. It didn’t sound that way this time. It was just a question. Adam still felt bad, though, and he still snapped, “No!”

The wheel creaked and wheezed and started moving again. Adam jerked back from the side—the spokes of the giant metal skeleton holding the wheel in place were way bigger up close than they’d looked from far away. The attendant had said to keep hands inside because those things would probably take ‘em right off. If the whole thing didn’t collapse first. Or he didn’t tip over the edge and fall out.

Everything rattled again when the wheel stopped next, except it was worse because Adam wasn’t holding onto anything this time. The only reason he didn’t lose his balance entirely was that Ronan grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down on the bench at the last second.

“Jeez,” he said, “it’s not that bad.”

Adam tugged on his rumpled shirt, hoping it hadn’t ripped anywhere. He didn’t have a whole lot of them. “Shut up, Ronan.”

Ronan didn’t seem offended by this. He scuffed the heels of his sneakers along the textured metal that made up the cart’s floor. “It’s okay if you are, you know.” It came out muffled around his hoodie string.

“Are what?”

“Scared.”

“I said I’m not—”

“Yeah, yeah!” Ronan flapped a hand around. “Whatever. I’m just saying. Matthew’s scared of heights too, it’s no big deal.”

Adam frowned at him. “Matthew’s a baby.”

“So what?”

“So I'm not!”

Ronan rolled his eyes like this whole conversation was tiresome. He spit out his hoodie string again, kicked his feet out in front of him, and held his hand up in Adam's direction. “Here.”

Adam stared at it. “Here what?”

The hand flapped around. “It'll make you feel better.”

Adam flushed; he felt like he'd done that more tonight than he had in the rest of his life put together. “I'm not holding your hand!”

Now Ronan was offended. “Why not?”

“Because I'm not a baby, and I'm not scared!”

“Oh, come on,” Ronan moaned. “It always works for Matthew! What's the big deal? You had no problem holding my hand earlier. What, did I grow cooties in the last five minutes?”

It wasn’t about cooties. It was about— Well, Adam wasn’t sure what it was about, but he was sure that Ronan’s outstretched hand made him want to bite, even if he had held it before. And he wouldn’t have called that holding hands anyway. That had been a hostage situation. Ronan had been holding his hand, not the other way around, and he’d had no say in the matter. Just because Adam had never been this far off the ground before didn’t mean that he was going to start crying about it like a whiny little baby, and he definitely didn’t need anybody to—

The wheel spun. The cart lurched.

Between one skipped heartbeat and the next, Adam looked down and realized that he’d grabbed onto Ronan’s hand without his own permission. Adam’s heart remembered how it was supposed to work and kicked into high gear, pumping humiliation through him at double its normal rate. He tried to yank his hand back. Ronan had a hold of him now, though, and he didn’t let go. Adam would’ve fought harder but one glance told him they were at the very top of the wheel now, miles and miles into the sky, and any sudden movement felt like it might knock them right off.

Ronan squeezed his hand. It did actually make Adam feel a little bit better. That made him mad all on its own, but he was more scared than he was mad, so he just hunched down as far as he could and focused on Ronan’s hand, warm and steady in his, as the wheel kept on turning.

Ronan wasn’t scared at all, not even a little bit. Most of the time, when Adam chanced a look at him, he had his face upturned to the stars, his expression easy and open and painted all over with color from the dancing lights all around them. Some of the time, he was already looking at Adam, and then he looked away real fast. He never let go of Adam’s hand, though.

By the time the Ferris wheel deposited them safely back onto the ground, Adam felt stupid for ever being scared. Of course the whole thing didn’t fall apart. Ronan was right and the not-carnies knew how to do their jobs just fine. It was silly of them to worry about it in the first place. The sour look on Declan’s face when they returned in one piece said he knew that too, he just didn’t want to admit it.

Matthew, for his part, was bouncing on his toes and asking a million questions before they’d even made it past the fence. If it was fun, how tall it was, if they could see their house from all the way up there, if it was as high as Heaven or higher. He didn’t seem to expect answers to any of these questions, at least, which was good because Adam didn’t have any. He couldn’t even answer his own question of why he was still letting Ronan hold his hand.

Ronan seemed perfectly content with the situation. He dragged Adam along in his wake, cheerfully informing Matthew that their house was too far away but he could see the car in the parking lot and also the big tree from outside the grocery store. Adam thought about his school, about climbing the jungle gym every day to get a glimpse of exactly where he’d just been. He should’ve remembered to look back the other way. It hadn’t even occurred to him to look for the trailer park. Pitiful patch of dirt. He wouldn’t have wanted to see it anyway.

Adam shivered. It had been cold up in the sky, especially because it was properly nighttime now, with proper nighttime temperatures. It occurred to Adam that he didn't know what time it was. The last bus left at 8:40pm and he still needed to walk all the way back to the stop.

As much as he hated to do it—his hand was the warmest part of him right now—he wiggled his fingers out from between Ronan's. He tried to do it subtly enough that Ronan wouldn't notice. He was busy jabbering away to his dad about something, but apparently not busy enough because he immediately turned to frown at Adam. The frown clearly asked what was wrong with him and why was he so rude.

Adam twisted his cold fingers into the hem of his shirt. “I think I need to be getting home,” he said by way of apology. He turned to Niall. “Thank you, sir, for your help. I'll find a way to get you the rest of that ticket price soon.”

Niall frowned too, a perfect mirror of his middle son. “Ack!” he said. “No need to worry about that. How're you getting home, lad? How'd you get here?”

Adam held his head up high. “I took the bus. I'll take it back.” It didn't occur to him until after he'd said it that, even if he wasn't already too late to catch the last bus, he would need a dollar for the fee. But every bit of money he'd had, he'd used to pay Niall back—mostly—for the ticket into this place. There was no way he could walk all the way to the trailer park, no matter how stubborn he was. It would take hours, or he’d freeze to death on the side of the road. There was nothing for it. He'd have to ask Niall for one of those dollars back.

$4.76, he thought bitterly.

Before he could force the pitiful request out of his mouth, though, Niall was waving his hand all over the place.

“Ack!” he said again. “The bus! A wee lad riding alone this late?” Declan at his side, looked equally disapproving of the idea, though he seemed to disapprove of everything just by default. “I won't hear of it. You'll ride with us, boy-o, and we'll take you wherever you need to—”

“No!”

It leapt out of him, just short of panicked. The whole family looked a little startled. At once, Adam wanted to say he was sorry, that he didn’t mean it, but he did mean it. His heart pounded, racetrack fast and unsteady, from how much he meant it. It was one thing for Niall and his sons, this sweet little family, to know that Adam didn’t have $15 to spare or that his parents didn’t care enough to bring him here themselves, but it would be something different for them to see Antietam Lane. The rundown double-wide that he had no choice but to call home. His daddy waiting on the porch, beer bottle in hand, asking where the hell he’d been all night.

Adam swallowed hard and tried his best to smile in a way that would make Niall stop looking at him so close. He had plenty of experience with teachers and nurses and guidance counselors. There was always something you could say to make them look away. “I just mean, that’s alright,” he said. “I don’t need a ride, I really don’t. You’ve been real kind to me and I wouldn’t want to put you out none. I can get home just fine and don’t you worry about me. The bus’ll be here soon.”

He’d taken two steps back toward the front of the fair, fully intending to start running if he had to, before Declan held up his cell phone and said, “Except it won’t because it left two minutes ago. You know, you really should wear a watch if you’re going to be—”

Niall put a hand on Declan’s shoulder at the same time that Ronan kicked him in the shin. The resulting scuffle between the boys was largely ignored by their father, who offered Adam a crooked grin and said, “Come now, Adam. I'll worry all my life if I leave you here alone. You'd be doing me a favor, saving my poor old heart the stress.”

Adam didn't think that was true. Nobody worried over him, at least not for long. He wasn't worth worrying over.

Niall did look worried now, though, at least, and so did Matthew with his arms wrapped around his father's leg, staring at Adam with wide eyes and pouted lips. Ronan, when he wriggled free of Declan's headlock, alternated between glaring at his brother and at Adam. It was hard to tell if he was mad or worried. Adam was getting the impression those might be the same thing for him.

Adam wrapped his arms around himself. “My momma told me not to get in cars with strange men,” he lied. He'd heard Sam's mom tell Sam that once, and he figured it was decent enough advice that it should apply to him too, even if his own momma didn't care enough to say it.

For a long minute, Niall sized him up, eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms too. Even with a small child clinging to his leg, he looked like this was very serious business. “How about this?” he said. “You let me drive you home, and we consider your debt settled.”

Adam's mouth fell open. “Settled?”

“Paid in full.”

$4.76 wasn't a lot of money, but it was a lot of money for the likes of Adam Parrish. And he’d already known his chances of tracking down a random stranger to pay him back were slim to none, whether he could scrounge up the money or not. He hated the idea of owing anything to anyone, even more owing it forever, always having it in the back of his mind, haunting him. Niall was offering him a way out of that. It didn't seem the right way around, Niall doing something kind for him and losing money on it. But what other choice did Adam have? He really didn't have any other way of getting back home, and Niall insisted it was a favor to him. This was the best offer Adam was going to get by far.

Adam made himself stand all the way up straight and look Niall in the eye. “You can drive me most of the way home,” he decided. “Drop me off at the end of the road and I’ll walk the rest of the way from there. It’s not far.”

Niall’s eyebrows raised up real high. “Is that your final offer then?”

“Take it or leave it.”

He laughed, booming loud. “You drive a hard bargain, boy-yo, but alright! We’ve got a deal.”

Niall stuck out his hand. Adam was a little slow in realizing he was supposed to shake it, but when he did, he tried to squeeze back hard enough not to seem weak or wimpy or girlish. A man needed a good handshake, or so his dad said. Niall seemed satisfied. He followed it up with a ruffle of Adam’s hair, like Adam had seen him do all night to Matthew and to Ronan and to Declan. His insides did something weird and twisty, warm and awful and wonderful all at the same time. It made him want to cry a little bit, but he was way too old for that, and crying had never done him any good anyway.

The five of them made their way back toward the front. Matthew bounced around the group, holding his dad's hand one minute and Declan's the next, then Ronan's, then back to Declan. He even grabbed hold of Adam's hand, tugging him over to look at a game with clown faces you shot water at for prizes like it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen in the whole wide world and he wanted to make absolutely sure that Adam got to see it too. He was a sweet kid. Holding his hand felt very different from holding Ronan's.

Ronan bounced around too, or more like he kept lagging behind and catching up again whenever Declan yelled at him. He didn't seem to be doing much of anything. He was head down, hands in pockets, hoodie string in mouth. He bumped Adam's shoulder when he came up alongside him, though, and lingered there for a few minutes, not quite not looking at him. Adam didn't know what to do with that, so he just bumped Ronan's shoulder in return and didn't quite not look back.

When they reached the gate, that same security guard was there, the one that had caught Adam sneaking in. He eyed them dubiously, but Adam suddenly had Ronan's arm thrown around his neck and Declan's hand on his shoulder and Matthew hanging off his arm. Claimed as one of the family, loud and clear. Niall gave the guard a jaunty wave and wished him a lovely night as they passed him by. The brothers didn't let go of him until they reached the car, long out of the guard’s line of sight.

Declan, as the oldest, claimed shotgun. Adam expected him to have to fight Ronan for it at least a little bit, but Ronan was quick to slide into the backseat and pull Adam in after him, Matthew squishing in third. All of them buckled up at Declan's insistence, except for Adam—he was technically sitting between seats and didn't have a belt to buckle, but Niall promised he would drive real careful.

It was strange being in a car didn't rattle and groan like it was one good pot hole from falling apart. It was stranger to ride with people who mostly liked each other. Car rides with his parents were usually made in silence, but this one was loud and full of bickering that felt friendly instead of mean. Matthew was winding down after all the excitement of the day, yawning and leaning his chubby cheek against Adam's shoulder as he teetered on the edge of sleep. The weight of him tipped Adam over into Ronan, who had nowhere else to go.

It felt kind of nice to be squished in between them. Matthew wasn't the only one who was tired, and between the grounding pressure on either side and the warmth of the car's heater of full blast and the soothing purr of a properly functioning engine, Adam's eyes started drooping too. Ronan had to jostled him back to full wakefulness so that Niall could ask him where they were headed.

The question curdled Adam's stomach, but a deal was a deal, and so he gave the best directions he could to Antietam Lane even if it made him feel a little sick. If Niall noticed they were headed toward the bad side of town, he didn't say anything about it. He was an easy driver, humming a bouncy tune as he navigated down progressively smaller and less maintained roads.

True to the terms of their deal, he stopped when Adam told him to, still out of sight of the entrance to the trailer park. “Right up there?” he asked, not quite skeptical. “We've got your word on that, haven't we, Adam? I said I'd get you home safe and sound, and you wouldn't make a liar out of me.”

Adam eyed the dark road leading back to the trailer, to his father. Safe and sound was a bit of a stretch. But technically, he would be getting home safe. It was the being there that wasn't. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't lying when he said, “I promise.”

Ronan had to get out of the car first to let Adam out. He didn't get back in right away. He looked around at the scraggly trees and the potholes and the rusty bank of mailboxes. He kicked at the ground with the toe of his sneaker. He glanced at Adam and then away again.

“Thanks for riding the Ferris wheel with me,” he came out with after long enough that Adam was starting to shiver. “And, you know, if you ever wanna come over or anything… We've got lots of land at our place! You can run around for hours and always find somewhere new. And we've got cows.”

“Cows?”

“It's a farm.”

“Oh.” Adam tried to picture it. The three brothers running through green fields, milking cows, collecting eggs from clucky chickens, or riding big shiny red tractors, or whatever else farm kids did. It was lively and colorful, straight out of some storybook. He tried to imagine himself in a place like that. It was easier now than it would've been yesterday, but it still didn't seem right. A dusty splotch like him in the middle of their pretty picture.

Adam rubbed at his nose. “I don't think my daddy would let me.”

“Oh.”

“Thanks, though.”

Ronan chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders hunched up. “Okay, well. Here.”

He pulled something out of his hoodie pocket. It was small, angular, shiny enough to glint in the car's headlights even though they were pointed the other way—the rock that Adam had kicked on their first walk through the fair. Or, if not the same exact one, then one just like it. Ronan must have picked it up on their way out, when he kept falling behind. Had he been searching for it? For himself, or because he’d seen Adam look at it for too long? Had Adam really been caught wanting something as stupid as a rock off the ground?

Adam’s eyes stung. He blinked the feeling away. “Why?” His voice came out tight and small-sounding.

Ronan was watching him in that way that looked like he wasn’t. “I don’t know,” he said. “I thought it was pretty or whatever.”

He shoved the rock against Adam’s chest. Adam scrambled to catch it. It felt strange in his hands, cool and sharp and heavy, even with how small it was. When he held it up at just the right angle, it winked at him. Gold, right there in his hands, all bright and shiny.

Adam looked up at Ronan, wordless.

“I just thought you should have something, you know?” Ronan said. “You didn’t play any games or win any prizes or anything. Whatever. It’s not a big deal. Take it or don't.”

Adam held the rock in his hands and thought about the dog tag his mother had thrown away, and the twinkling lights he'd probably never see again. He thought about debts that could never be repaid. He thought about the way Ronan had held his hand up in the sky.

He tucked the rock into his pocket. “Thanks.”

Ronan’s shoulders, previously shrugged up tight around his shoulders, dropped. He smiled a bit. “Yeah. Sure.” He bit his lip again and glanced down the dark road. “I guess you gotta go, huh?”

Adam looked too. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. Before they start wondering where I am.”

A crease formed between Ronan’s eyebrows—not quite a frown, but the beginnings of one—and Adam realized that he’d never actually said or confirmed that he’d snuck out to get to the fair, only that his parents hadn’t driven him. For Ronan, with the dad he had, the kind that would spend a whole night taking him fun places and paying his way in and buying him corndogs and ruffling his hair, that probably seemed real weird. He bet Ronan never had to sneak out of anywhere. He probably had a momma at home who’d notice if he did.

Adam was still wearing the plasticky fair bracelet. Neon green, a color that had never been seen in the Parrish household. He tried to pull it off, but it was fastened too tight around his wrist, and it wouldn’t tear the way normal paper would. He tugged and twisted at it until he thought he might have to break his thumb to get it off of him, and then Ronan’s hand was on his.

“There’s a trick to it,” he said. “It’s weird. Here, lemme—”

He slid his finger underneath the band, along the underside of Adam’s wrist, where the skin was thin and soft. He fished out the tail end of the bracelet, past where it had been stuck down to itself. He said, “Sorry if it pinches.” He pulled that tail back the other way with a quick, hard yank, and the bracelet shredded and fell away.

Ronan grinned triumphantly. Adam, rubbing at his only slightly pinched wrist, grinned back, actually impressed this time. “Neat.” He was going to take the wristband back, already thinking of ways he could get it into the trash can without either of his parents seeing it, but it was suddenly and mysteriously gone. Adam caught sight of one little corner of white paper peeking out of Ronan’s pocket. Ronan didn’t say anything about taking it, and if he wasn’t going to say anything then Adam wasn’t either. He sort of liked the idea of Ronan having something of his anyway, like he had Ronan’s rock. Turned it from a gift into a trade. Something he didn’t have to feel guilty over.

Declan called Ronan’s name, impatient. Ronan made a rude gesture at him through the window that made their father laugh, but he turned back looking apologetic anyway. “We gotta go,” he said. “Declan’s gonna blow a gasket, and I think Matthew’s already asleep.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “School tomorrow too. But—” he ducked his head, warm cheeks stinging in the cold night air. “It was nice to meet you. All of you.”

“You too.” Ronan bounced on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, looking at Adam real hard. And then, in a burst of motion that might’ve scared Adam half to death any other time, he flung his arms around Adam in a hug. It was a quick, messy thing, all elbows and shoulders and knees knocking together, but it took the air straight out of Adam’s lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged him. It took everything he had to force himself to let go when Ronan did.

He was still reeling when Ronan said, “See you around sometime, okay?” And then Ronan was climbing back into the car and slamming the door behind him.

The car didn’t move, headlights still trained down the dark road in the direction of the trailer park, lighting the way for him. Through the windshield, Adam could just make out the forms of Declan, turned around in his seat to bicker with Ronan some more, and Niall, who waved at him. Adam waved back. Then he put his hand in his pocket, cold fingers wrapping around the rock there, and made himself turn toward home. The light stayed steady at his back all the way down the road until he finally rounded the corner, darkness taking over just as the double-wide came into sight. There was nobody waiting on the porch, nobody peeking through the curtains.

Instead of going straight in, Adam skirted around the trailer to the back. There wasn’t much of anything there, just the empty dirt lot and an occasional patch of tall grass. Some of that grass had grown up around the rickety steps leading up to the trailer’s back door. Adam crouched down there, pulled Ronan’s rock out of his pocket, and deposited it carefully in that tuft of grass, tucked out of sight just behind the first step. There was just enough light coming through the little window over the kitchen sink overhead to catch on its surface.

Tomorrow, Adam would come back and retrieve his little piece of gold. He would take it far out into the field, past where his mom could see from the window, and hold it up to the light. And he knew it would shine like the top of that Ferris wheel.

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