Beneath the Bonfire by Nickolas Butler

A forest of teenage trees, doomed from the start and piled lovingly for this end. She realized that in the spring, when the ice thawed, their skeletons and ashes would sink to the bottom of the lake, a strange aquatic burial.
    They moved away from the fire now, away from the light, the cord attached to her arm growing taut as Pieter disappeared into the unknowable gloom that swallowed him. She followed.
    *   *   *
    They’d met in the fall, one of the last days of October. A few persistent leaves still clinging to the trees. Kat had agreed to watch her older sister’s twelve-year-old, Harrison, for the weekend, though in truth she did not much like children. Her apartment was small, filled with books, and she owned no television. Her nephew was appalled to learn that she did not play video games. They spent Friday night and most of Saturday at the cinema, stealing from one movie theater to the next, taking breaks only to visit the bathroom or buy more popcorn. In the dark they did not have to talk. They watched whatever movies he wanted to see.
    But on Sunday she awoke stiff and yearning for fresh air. She roused her nephew and they went out for waffles. Then she drove them south, away from the city, to a giant amusement park. It was the last day of the season and the parking lots were largely abandoned, not a yellow school bus in sight. The tickets were cheap, and they strolled right into the park without waiting, no lines for any of the rides.
    She noticed Pieter as they approached the huge roller coaster. He was sitting at the front by himself, a few teenage couples generously spaced behind him. Some of the couples heavy petting, tonguing—no adult supervision at all. Pieter’s face was red, as if burned by the wind. He wore a red scarf around his neck, tightly tucked into a winter jacket. His eyes were very dull and red-rimmed, his lips pursed together seriously.
    â€œAunt Kat,” Harrison asked, “can I have a few dollars to play video games? I need a break from these rides.” He stuck out his hand.
    â€œJust call me Kat, please,” she said, giving the boy two dollars. He looked at her and then at the two dollars and then back at her. She realized two dollars would not last him long and gave him two more. The weekend had grown expensive. She watched the boy duck into a nearby arcade, also abandoned, the screens of a few video games flashing.
    She watched Pieter ride the roller coaster repeatedly, the other riders disembarking each time while he remained motionless at the front of the car. She sat on a park bench, the day gray, a cold wind rearranging her curly brown hair, her cheeks pink. After a scant ten minutes, Harrison returned from the arcade and sat down close beside her. The roller coaster came to yet another stop and a few riders drifted off, giving each other high fives. Again Pieter persisted, just wiped his nose solemnly with a Kleenex. Harrison looked at her.
    â€œYou want to ride that one?” he asked.
    â€œYeah,” she said at last, “why not?”
    They ran to the snake of seats before the metal bars came down. Two protective harnesses swung down from above and rested snugly over and across their chests, Harrison looking small behind his. It was just the three of them. Kat and Harrison nine rows behind Pieter. The ride jerked forward, began to rise up its steep steel slope.
    At the top of the incline, the park spread out beneath them, her Subaru visible far away in the white crosshatched parking lot. And then the rush forward. Kat watched as Pieter disappeared down and away and felt her stomach lurch forward as the cars gained speed and the world slipped out from underneath them. She screamed and clutched the steel brace pressed to her chest. The rushing wind cut her face as they tore through the route of the coaster, metal on metal impossibly loud and her head jarring constantly so her perception of the world was as though she were