of sound and whirlpool of motion, she had the peculiar feeling that
tonight was going to be one of the most important nights of her life.
Tonight she would make decisions about herself, tonight she would
either accept the role in life that both Liz and Mama believed she was
suited for, or she would make up her mind to be the good, responsible
person that she had always wanted to be. She was standing on a thin
line, and it was time to jump one way or the other, time to make up her
mind about herself. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did
know it. The feeling was unshakable. At first it sobered her and made
her a little bit afraid, but then Liz made a very funny crack about a
fat woman who was walking up the midway in front of them, and Amy
laughed, and the grass had its effect, and the laugh turned into an
uncontrollable giggle, and she was floating again.
T H R E E THE
AMY DISCOVERED THAT Liz was right about a little grass making the
thrill rides even more fun than usual. They rode the Octopus, the
Tilt-a-Whirl, the Dive Bomber, the Whip, the Loop-de-Loop, the
Colossus, and others. The ramps seemed higher than those on thrill
rides that Amy had ridden in – previous carnivals, the dips seemed
deeper, the i whipping action, the spinning, soaring, diving, twisting,
and turning all seemed wilder and faster than ever before. Amy held
onto Buzz and screamed with delight and with a quiver of genuine terror
as well. Buzz pulled her close, he used her fear and the sudden
lurchings of the rides as excuses to cop some quick, cheap feels.
Like Liz, Amy was wearing shorts, a T-shirt, but no bra. Buzz couldn’t
resist touching her breasts and her long, bare, nicely tanned legs.
Each time she got off a ride, Amy was disoriented for a minute or two
and had to cling to Buzz, and he liked that, and she liked it, too,
because Buzz had such big, hard, muscular arms and shoulders.
Only forty minutes after they arrived at the fairgrounds, they slipped
off the midway, between a couple of sideshows, to the back lot, where
rows of carnival trucks were parked. They went around behind the
trucks, into a deserted culde-sac that ended at the fairgrounds’
ivy-covered fence. They stood in shadow-dappled, summerevening
sunlight and passed around a third joint that Liz took out of her
purse, they sucked in the sweet smoke, held it down as long as they
possibly could, then let it out with urgent gasps of pleasure.
“This one’s a little different,” Richie said as the hand-rolled
cigarette made its second circle around their huddle.
“This one what?” Amy asked.
“This joint,” Richie said.
‘eah,” Liz said. “It’s spiced up.” “With what?” Buzz asked.
“Trust me.”
“Angel dust?” Richie asked.
“Trust me,” Liz said.
“Hey,” Buzz said, “I’m not sure I like smoking something that I don’t
know what it is.”
“Trust me,” Liz said.
“I trust you about as far as I can throw you,” Buzz said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Liz said. “We’ve almost finished the joint
anyway.”
Buzz was holding the stub. He hesitated, then said, “Oh, hell, why not
live dangerously.” He took one last drag on it.
Richie started to kiss Liz on the neck, and Buzz kissed Amy, and
without quite realizing how it happened, Amy found herself pinned
against the side of one of the trucks, and Buzz was running his hands
up and down her body, kissing her hard, pushing his tongue into her
mouth, and then he tugged her T-shirt out of her shorts and got one
hand under it and squeezed her bare breasts, thumbed her nipples, and
she moaned softly, concerned that someone might walk around behind the
trucks and see them, but unable to express her concern, responding even
to Buzz’s crude caresses.
Suddenly Liz said, “Enough, you guys. Save it for later. I’m sure as
hell not going to lie down right here, in broad daylight, and take it
in the dirt.” “The dirt is the best place,” Richie said.
“Yeah,” Buzz said. “Let’s do it in the dirt.” “It’s the natural