Inferno Park (2 page)

“Did everybody have fun?” Carter’s dad asked them.

“I want to go again!” the kid demanded.

“We don’t have time,” the kid’s dad said, unwrapping his legs from the steering wheel and heaving himself onto unsteady feet. “We gotta go catch up with your momma.”

“I don’t want to!” the kid insisted. He remained in his go-kart, pouting. “I want to drive again.”

“We gonna have supper,” the kid’s dad said. “Fried catfish.”

The kid raised his eyebrows. “Can I have hush puppies and tarter sauce?”

“You got it, champ,” the dad told him.

Carter watched the boy and his father leave, then asked his dad, “Now can I go?”

“I guess we can survive one Wednesday in August without you,” Carter’s dad told him. “Gas ‘em up and wash ‘em down, and I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks!” Carter jumped behind the wheel of the first go-kart and pulled it around to the fueling and washing station.

Carter had worked at the track all his life, sweeping, mopping, and dusting from the time he was a toddler. As he grew older, he washed and polished the go-karts and helped touch up the paint on the flats that created scenery alongside the track—a desert scene here, city buildings there. It was a fun job for a middle school kid.

His dad generally supervised the track, keeping the karts gassed up, watching the figure-eight track for troublemakers, while his mom ran the front end, collecting admission money and selling overpriced candy and soda. His family worked hard, but they spent lots of time together. His dad, who had long ago moved down from Ohio to be a beach bum in the Florida panhandle, rarely woke up before eleven, since the business didn’t open until noon.

It was a fairly happy life, in many ways an idyllic one, and it was about to end.

His chores done, Carter hurried out through the little shop at the front of the track, where his mom was checking in a family of tourists—two parents with three boys around Carter’s age. His mom was in her late thirties, like his dad, her skin browned by constant exposure to the sun. She also wore the obligatory tie-dyed “Eight-Track” t-shirt.

“Where are you going?” she asked him.

“Out with Jared,” he said.

“Where’s ‘out’?”

“Probably just see who’s out along the Starwalk.”

“You’re done helping your dad?”

“He said I could go.” Carter lingered by the glass front door with its pink flamingo door chimes. He pretended not to notice the new handprint someone had left there—if his mom saw it, she would make him wipe it down with glass cleaner. He could see Jared in the gravel parking lot out front, sitting on one of the mildly decayed railroad ties that marked the boundary with the parking lot of the surf shop next door, reading a Batman comic.

“Come here,” his mom said, and Carter reluctantly walked back to the counter, wondering what new set of chores he would have to finish.

Instead, his mom gave him a twenty-dollar bill. He smiled as he reached for it.

“Thanks!” he said, but she held it tight, looking him in the eye.

“Stay out of trouble,” she said. “Stay safe.”

“I will.” Carter was unsettled by the serious look in her eyes. He knew she didn’t like Jared and considered him a little delinquent...which he was, but usually for a good cause. Jared had once convinced Carter to go spray paint profanity all over the trailer where the biggest bully in their grade lived. They’d gotten away with that one, just barely.

“I want you home by nine,” his mom said. Carter could smell the tequila on her breath—she’d been drinking in the morning again. “I got a bad feeling.”

“Okay. Thanks again,” he said, waving the twenty before he pocketed it.

“I love you, Carter,” she told him, which brought snickers from the three tourist boys. Why did she have to embarrass him like that?

“Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled, blushing. He pushed his way out the door.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jared stood up, grinning. He wore his favorite Joker cap, turned backwards on his head.

“Man, it feels good to be out on parole. Let’s see who’s out tonight.”

“Should be everybody.” Carter and Jared followed the sidewalk across the parking lot of Big Billy’s Surf Shop, which sold mostly boogie boards, snorkels, and t-shirts, since this stretch of the Gulf wasn’t great for actual surfing.

“Sucks that school starts next week,” Jared said. “My parents robbed me of like half the summer.”

“Yeah.” They were both going into eighth grade. “I hate middle school.”

“One more year, then things get cool,” Jared told him. “High school is all about the wild parties, the girls, the beer...”

“One more year,” Carter sighed.

“Forget school. I don’t want to think about it.”

They walked down the Starwalk, passing little knots of tourists enjoying the last week of summer. On this colorful stretch of Beachview Drive, densely packed with amusements, the “sidewalk” was just a series of short, hastily crafted wooden boardwalks connecting one parking lot to the next, raised a few inches above the weedy muck of drainage ditches. Many of the parking lots were simple patches of gravel and sand. All the fun spots had sprung up in the shadow of the amusement park, with no real planning.

Across the street, motels painted eye-snagging colors like pink, lavender, and screaming green sat along the beach, their tourist curb appeal enhanced by an array of oversized figures that crowded the roadside competing for attention, most noticeably the gorilla holding the lighted sun at one end of Sunny Breeze Motor Court, and also the two-story suit of reddish armor guarding the Good Knight Inn.

Being locals, Carter and Jared were savvy about the ways of the Starwalk. Sharkfin Pizza was delicious and only cost a buck a slice. A deep-fried sandwich at the Fish Bowl, a wooden stand painted with glittering goldfish, would make you sick for two days.

They passed an airbrush shop and a shed that offered temporary tattoos and face painting. Jared started nudging him every time a cute girl in a bikini passed, as though Carter would otherwise be blind to them.

Carter wasn’t interested in checking out the tourist girls, though. He peered into arcades and cheap jewelry shops as they walked, his mind distracted.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for Tricia,” Jared said.

“Maybe. She could be out.” Carter passed a fried-chicken stand that looked like a small red barn with an oversized red rooster perched on its roof, its recorded voice crowing about “cheap prices” and “cluck-a-licious flavor.”

“That Tricia girl’s a freak. She probably doesn’t come out until after dark,” Jared said.

“She’s not a freak!”

“Anyway, who cares? You’ll be too chicken to talk to her. Come on, let’s get some pizza.”

Carter frowned as they walked into Sharkfin Pizza, where the big sign featured a shark and claimed the place was “Home of the World-Famous Salt-Crust Pizza.” They each bought a big, greasy wedge with pepperoni, plus a large paper cup of Coke to share. The outdoor dining area consisted of two picnic tables already crammed full of tourists, so Carter and Jared stood while they ate. The pizza crust, as advertised, was sprinkled with big chunks of salt.

He looked over the crowd. Conch City attracted visitors from all across the Southeast, generally those who couldn’t afford to spend a fortune visiting the big Orlando resorts like Disney World. You saw a lot of run-down trucks and rusty cars, dads in the wife-beater tank tops, moms with big hair and fanny packs, kids in flip-flops and faded promotional t-shirts advertising country music radio stations or movies from three years ago. Carter had never been to Disney World or Universal Studios, but he doubted they could be as cool as his hometown.

Then Carter saw her—just for a moment, passing in the crowd along the street, but time seemed to stop for the half-second she was visible, before a big man in a t-shirt that read “Conch City: Come for the Beer, Stay for the Beer” blocked his view.

“That was her!” Carter nudged Jared. “Tricia.”

“Oh, come on.” Jared shook his head, chewing slowly.

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not done with my pizza.”

“Bring it with you.” Carter pulled his arm. “Let’s go after her.”

“So you can stalk her like a creep?”

“No...”

“You’re going to go up and talk to her?” Jared smirked.

“Maybe...come on, let’s see where she goes. I’ll talk to her when she gets there.”

Jared made a big show of sighing and rolling his eyes, then trudged along behind Carter.

“You’re moving too slow!” Carter whispered.

“You’re crazy.”

Carter caught another glimpse of her up ahead, passing by the parking lot for Dinosaur Mini-Golf, where tourists took pictures next to the big green concrete triceratops out front.

“There,” Carter pointed. Tricia Calhoun was a long way ahead. She wore a simple white dress she’d hand-painted with unicorns and dragons. Her pale blond hair was braided and hung with beads. Her skin was a ghostly color, probably the reason Jared said she only came out at night.

“I can’t believe you get all stupid and drooly over the weirdest girl in school,” Jared said. “There are tons of chicks hotter than her.”

“Like who?”

“Uh, Kelly Maples? Carly Overby? Morgan O’Shea?
Anyone?
”

“You’re just naming all the cheerleaders.”

“So? I saw Carly on the beach a few weeks ago. She’s really popping out.” Jared cupped his hands in front of his chest.

“Those girls are boring. Tricia...isn’t.” Carter couldn’t explain how Tricia made him feel—like he was sweating on the inside, like his brain was short-circuiting. She usually sat in the back of the classroom, doodling wild fantasy creatures in her notebook, ignoring everyone while she focused on her own little world. She didn’t seem to have a lot of friends. She didn’t giggle and gossip all the time like the popular girls Jared had mentioned. Carter knew there was something special about her.

He couldn’t put it all into words, and Jared would probably just make fun of him if he tried.

“You better hurry, man,” Jared said. “Looks like she’s going in.”

Ahead, Tricia veered into the sprawling blacktop parking lot at Starland Amusement Park, which was the center of everything along the glowing strip of attractions. High chain-link fence surrounded the park, enclosing a world of glowing lights and spinning rides. Directly ahead, a train of screaming riders raced down one tall hill of the Starland Express, the mammoth wooden roller coaster so long it took up the entire western edge of the park.

The front gate looked like a casino palace, the ticket booths topped with white castle towers glowing with rows of neon stars. Tricia stood in a short line, clutching her purple velvet purse, which also looked homemade—two pieces of material unevenly stitched together, the strap made from an old artificial-leather belt.

Carter stopped where he was, trying to work up the nerve to approach her.

“Go ahead,” Jared told him.

“What do I say?”

“You could start with ‘hi.’ Or maybe ‘hey’ if you want to be folksy about it.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, but you’re almost out of time...” Jared nodded toward Tricia, already buying her ticket.

“Let’s go.” Carter hurried toward the star-studded front gate. He hoped to catch Tricia before she went inside, because admission to the park was twelve bucks. His mind was whirling, his nerves were jumping...but he was excited to go and talk to her.

Seeing her out on this perfect August evening felt like a happy kind of fate to him. Not many kids from school were out on the Starwalk this late in the summer. As with swimming pools and the beach itself, the gaudy strip of games, rides, and flashing neon, this permanent beachside carnival redolent of fried sugar and car fumes, had grown too familiar to most of the local kids by late August.

Carter never grew tired of it, though. This section of town was filled with magic. Even though he worked here every day with his family, and sometimes work was not fun, he never lost sight of the magical environment they were helping to create for all the tourists.

He reached the front gate of Starland, but he was too late. He could already see her inside, walking up the midway between the food stands and the game booths, her back to him.

“Tickets?” A gate attendant, dressed like a clown in a cop uniform with a Starland starburst logo in place of a badge, held out one hand.

Carter backed off, watching the girl thread her way into the crowd inside the park. Soon he would lose sight of her.

“Tickets,” the security clown said again, in a less friendly tone. “You’re blocking the way, kids.”

“Let’s go to the beach,” Jared said.

“No way.” Carter’s pulse was up. He had made his decision to reach out to the girl he liked, and he didn’t want to back down now. “Let’s go in.”

“Sorry,
hombre
, I only got six bucks,” Jared said.

Carter sighed. “I can loan you the rest.”

“Sweet!” Jared’s face lit up. “And let’s ride Inferno Mountain this time, okay?”