Side Effects May Vary

It was eerie. All the games were locked up, and there were no lights except for the moon and the stars and a little flashlight Dennis had been smart enough to bring. At times, Alice walked ahead of the three of us, scoping the place out, and it made me wish that it’d only been us.

The whole park had this colonial theme, with pastel houses that served as storefronts and little eateries and an old blue Ferris wheel. When we were kids, I thought this place was huge, like its own little country. But now all the doorways were too low and too narrow, the buildings didn’t seem quite so big, and the Ferris wheel looked like it probably didn’t meet any of the necessary safety regulations.

I ran ahead and caught up to Alice. “Is it anything like you remember?”

“Sort of,” she said. “More rundown.” She took a deep breath and held her side for a moment.

I hated seeing those little signs of her health slipping, and I knew she hated letting it show. But I’ve often wondered what was worse: being sick or watching it happen.

“We should climb the Ferris wheel!” said Dennis, running to catch up.

“No. No way,” said Debora, tripping behind him. “You would break your neck and die, and then everyone would know we were here and it would be your fault for breaking your neck and dying.”

Alice laughed. “I might like her.”

Debora rolled her eyes.

“I’m only here for the fucking teacups anyway,” said Alice. “This way.”

We followed her, and like everything else, the teacups were much smaller than I remembered. But, still, all four of us barely fit into one cup.

“This is an electric ride, guys,” said Dennis.

“The platform is, but it looks like you can spin the teacups yourself,” said Debora, motioning to the metal circle at the center of the cup. It looked like a little table.

Alice smiled at Debora, but stopped when she realized I’d caught her.

We used to get on this ride and spin as fast as we could. The person to scream stop first lost and had to do all the pedaling on the boats.

Dennis began to spin the disc. “You guys ready?”

We nodded.

All eight of our hands tripped over one another, trying to keep the teacup spinning as fast as it would take us. Alice, and even Debora, shrieked. My eyes couldn’t keep up with anything except for Alice blurring at the edge of my vision. I wanted to lean over and kiss her. We were moving so fast that no one would have noticed, and Alice might not have even realized that it was on purpose. I slid over a little closer.

On my other side, Dennis screamed, “This is awesome!”

“Watch the sky!” said Alice.

I looked up.

I knew I would never travel through space or fly a plane, but sitting there with the girl I loved—there was no question about me loving her—and two of my oldest friends, the whole universe spinning around me, reminded me how big this world was and how small we were. In a hundred years, no one would know us, but this moment for us would last as long as we did. This. Right now, with traces of Alice coloring my view of the sky, would never be in a history book or a movie, but for as long as I could push air in and out of my chest, I would remember this moment that could never be measured.

I yelled. I howled at the moon and, for a few minutes, I forget about how I thought my life hinged on kissing Alice. I forgot about who my dad might be. I forgot about disappointing my mom. I forgot about everything that didn’t fit inside of this moment.

“Stop! Stop!” yelled Alice.

I grasped the disc on either side, stilling us.

Alice sat up on her knees and leaned over the edge of the teacup. Her whole body shook as she coughed like a little kid who’d been crying for too long. She wiped her mouth. I put my arm around her shoulder.

Debora moved in closer to us.

“I feel sick,” moaned Alice.

“It’s okay,” said Debora. Our eyes met from either side of Alice. “It’ll get washed away by the rain. Just let it out.”

Dennis opened the little door to the teacup and ran down the exit ramp. “I’m sorry,” he said over his shoulder. “Other people vomiting makes me vomit too.”

She kept coughing, but nothing came out. Finally, she said, “Okay, okay. Yeah, I’m okay.” She turned around and sat back down, slumping in her seat. “Give me a minute.”

None of us said it out loud, but we knew it was the chemo. Alice’s body had started to tell her what she could and couldn’t do, and she had never responded well to limitations.

I unwound my scarf from my neck and handed it to her to wipe her face.

“Thanks,” she said and rested her head on my shoulder.

Debora scooted back a little and watched the patch of trees beside us that led out to Lake Quasipi.

“We should go home,” I said.

Alice sat up. “No,” she said. “No, I want to stay.”

So we did. We found Dennis not far from the teacups at a row of water fountains. Thankfully, the water was on, so Alice splashed her face a few times and took a few sips of water.