Chapter 21

Dana and Summer sat in the back seat of Heather’s sedan, with Nikki up front. Dana was too conscious of Nikki’s presence to do much with Summer beyond holding hands and flirting with their bodies. Not that Summer seemed inclined to do any more. Maybe it was Heather’s knowing eye in the rear-view mirror that stopped her. Though it did tighten Dana’s feeling of being trapped.

In the half-hour drive to Leadville, Heather talked about her sister. “Monica’s competing in the barrel races. She also does the pole race and ribbon roping, but they aren’t holding those events—it’s not a full junior rodeo.” Because Dana didn’t know the rodeo events, Heather and Summer explained them all, both the girls’ racing and the boys’ riding and roping. “Jimmy Nichols is just doing calf-roping later. They won’t have any bulls or broncos here.”

Dana wondered about Summer’s promise to show her bucking broncos. Well, she could have been mistaken.

They met Sam, Al, Liz, and Zoe at the ticket booth—but not Patrick. Dana wasn’t sure what to make of his absence. Whatever reason, she was glad. She would have preferred not to have Zoe either, but she had enough to worry about to bother being annoyed at her. Sam, she did everything she could to ignore short of outright cutting her.

While waiting for Monica’s event, Dana bought Summer a pink cotton candy, to go with her top and make-up, and a blue one for herself. Though they ended up mostly feeding their own candy to the other. It wasn’t until they were almost done, walking around the midway booths, that Dana noticed Nikki was Not Watching them. Damn.

The midway was more extensive than Dana expected—and more professional than a church fair. Probably put on by a traveling carnival company. Dana spotted a basketball toss both. Oh, perfect. They even had time to pull off a good one. “Hey guys,” she said, “pretend I’m a cheerleader.”

Al looked at the booth, then at her. “How good are you at this?”

“Pretty damn good, I’m betting,” Heather said.

“And I don’t want the carnie to know that,” Dana agreed.

“Oh, I see,” Sam said, looking pleased with herself. “Not a basketball player.”

“How good are you?” Dana asked Al, to avoid acknowledging Sam.

“Pretty good.”

Dana looked to the others for confirmation. Sam said, “He sometimes gets it in.”

“Hey!”

Nikki said, “So it should be Al first, then one of us—Summer, maybe—then Dana.”

“Exactly,” Dana said. She and Nikki smiled at each other—the connection of thinking alike—until Summer nudged Dana.

Heather nodded. “Pretty good strategy. And you,” she pointed at Al, “should boast to the chicks, trying to impress us. And Summer should claim she’s wretched.”

“Oh, I’m no good at these things,” Summer said.

“Just like that. Perfect.”

Summer’s eyebrows creased together, but she said nothing.

They walked up to the booth, where Al lay down seven tickets, claiming he’d win the largest prize for each of the girls. His first ticket, he ended up getting only the last of three shots in the basket, enough for a small stuffed animal. The girls ribbed him for this, especially Summer—enough so, he deferred his next ticket to her. Summer missed every shot, badly. Dana said “Ha!” loudly after every one.

“Think you can do better?” Heather asked—a perfect setup.

“Of course she can,” Sam said in her perfectly snotty voice, “cheerleaders are so much better than basketball players.” Which got her an odd look from Summer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dana said, not having to pretend discomfort. Why’d Sam have to put the idea of playing basketball in the carnie’s head?

“Put up or shut up, Dana,” Summer said.

Al gestured her to the railing. Dana shrugged and took the basketball.

She had watched Al and Summer’s throws carefully. The key was the booth’s low roof—you couldn’t arc the ball enough. Dana stretched up her arms as far as she could, like a jump shot without jumping, and shot the ball starting at the top of an arc with enough backspin that it bounced down the backboard into the hoop. Like that. She kept her stance as she took the ball again, and without pausing, shot it in again. And again. Three in the hoop was a giant stuffed animal.

Dana gave the frog to Summer, who brightened considerably.

Al deferred the remaining tickets to Dana, and she popped in every shot. That gave her enough giant plushies for all but one cheerleader. She would have skipped giving one to Sam, but the captain asked for the blobby bird, and Dana couldn’t turn her down without making it a snub direct. Somehow, the odd one out ended up Nikki. It showed she was avoiding favoritism, Dana told herself. That didn’t remotely convince her.

“Don’t try telling me you’re a cheerleader,” the carnie said. He looked like he should be chewing a cigar. “With a shot like that, you should be on the court, not the sidelines.”

Dana grinned.

He grunted. “Well, you’re not welcome at this booth any more. Enjoy the rest of the carnival.”

Dana spread her hands in a broad shrug, and backed away bowing.

“Whoo-wee,” Al said as they walked away. “You are in-credible.”

“Yes,” all the girls said.

“And thank you for the frog,” Summer said. “That deserves a kiss, oh my prince-ess.” And she gave Dana one, standing in the middle of the midway. Dana’s lips tingled.

Nikki frowned. This was not going well.

“From all of us,” Heather said, and kissed Dana as well—as long and as hard as Summer had. The other girls, including Nikki, did the same. Which made Summer frown.

Not well at all.

Dana couldn’t help remembering her fan going wild during mini-golf. That had made her feel far better than salutes from six pretty girls.

Al, at least, didn’t kiss her. He gave her his small stuffed animal instead.

“Thank you,” Dana said, looking at the sad-faced puppy. “I’ll name him Al—Al Partlow.”

“You deserve more, but hell, it’s what I got. Besides,” he added, “it’s not like I have a little sister.”

Sam giggled, as if that was funny. Nikki, Dana could tell, almost rolled her eyes.

“You can try getting me more at the milk-jug toss,” Dana told him.

Al grinned. “You’re on.”

Despite his best efforts and Sam’s continual coaching, all he won her was another small dog, Al’s pink twin Zenobia. Dana almost told him the trick was not throwing flat, like the basketball, but a high arc, but he was already not taking Sam’s backseat tossing well. Dana didn’t try herself—she’d already done enough. More than enough.

Though the cheerleaders hadn’t—not when they got to the rides. Especially the one like a ferris wheel, only with cages that tumbled head over heels.

“Oh, fun!” Nikki said.

“Have fun,” Dana told the cheerleaders.

“You’re not coming?” Zoe asked.

“Nuh uh,” Dana said. “I don’t Do upside-down.”

Liz turned a cartwheel, and Nikki topped that with two flips and a grin. Cheerleaders and gymnasts, Dana had noticed, liked to show off.

In the end, only Nikki, Liz, Zoe, and Sam went on the ride—Al was like Dana, Summer claimed to not be interested, and Heather then didn’t have a partner. As they watched, Dana thought of the question she’d asked everyone—might as well try it with Summer.

“So why are cheerleaders bi?”

“It’s a self-fulfilling whatchamacallit.”