Nothing to Lose by Alex Flinn

you.”
    “But…” The guy was still looking.
    “You looked hungry.”
    I realized I was. I’d meant to eat before leaving home, but after talking to Mom, I just left. I glanced at my watch. After seven. Walker was home now. I touched the beeper in my pocket.
    “Yeah,” I said to Kirstie. “Thanks.” It was weird, her wanting to take care of me like that. I realized I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to stop old pervs from drooling over her body, for one thing. Maybe I just wanted to take care of something.
    Then, “Oops.” She ran over to help a man on the other side.
    When she came back several minutes later, she said, “Why don’t you walk around a little, see the livestock or something? I’m busy tonight.”
    I glared at her, walking away, but only when I was sure she didn’t see me. It was bullshit, her asking me to come back only to blow me off. I shouldn’t stay. She was just a piece of ass among hundreds of other pieces of ass. I should go home.
    But the wild midway music called me to stay. Stay.
    I didn’t go to the livestock tent, though. I went the other way, past the circus tent where Karpe and I had gone the night before. I considered going in, but decided against it. I’d only gone to make Karpe happy. Besides, it wouldn’t be as real the second time. I walked past booths offering ID bracelets and massage-by-the-minute. I remembered the burger and took a bite. Then another, until I finished it and realized I was still hungry.
    When I looked up, I was standing in front of the double Ferris wheel. I had no idea why. I recognized the guy, Cricket, who was working it. He beckoned me over.
    “Hey, kid,” he said.
    “My name is Michael.”
    He didn’t introduce himself. “Want to make a buck, Michael?”
    “How?”
    “The guy who was supposed to take tickets got here totally baked. Can you help me out there while I operate the ride?”
    “I don’t know. I’m supposed to be meeting Kirstie soon.”
    He snorted. “How can I say this? I’ll pay you for the next hour, then you check with her. When she tells you she ain’t ready, you come back and work some more.”
    Which sort of pissed me off, but I suspected he was right. Also, I liked the idea of working. I’d never been able to have an after-school job since Mom and Walker got married.
    “What do I do?” I said.
    “Take tickets, five apiece, and don’t rip ’em. Just throw them in.” He gestured toward a wooden box beside him.
    I looked at my watch—seven twenty—and checked the beeper in my pocket again to make sure it was still on. But Cricket had walked away, and people were waiting. So I started taking tickets. At first I had to unfurl them and count them before I threw them into the box. Cricket was working the controls, making the seats come down so people could get on. And when the last seat came down, he hollered “Last one!” so I knew not to take any more.
    After a few runs, I got so I knew what five tickets looked like, even if people handed them to me in a sweaty ball. I knew when the last person got on too, before the ride was set to run. And I started to stand like I’d always seen carnies stand, facing sideways and head down, not really looking at anyone.
    That’s why I didn’t notice Cricket next to me at first.
    “You get a rhythm going,” he said. “So you can just stay there and think and not think, if you know what I mean.”
    I did. I looked at my watch. I’d been there almost an hour, and I hadn’t checked my beeper since I’d first gotten there. Cricket was right. I couldn’t tell you what I’d been thinking, but it felt good. Like when I was younger and I used to put up signs on trees and mow people’s lawns for extra money. It had been a while since I felt like I’d actually worked for something.
    The wheel was running regular, and Cricket pointed up at the highest car. “Look.”
    At first I didn’t see what he was talking about. Then I did. A couple at the top of the wheel. The