Page 110 of Chasing Stardust

He waves his hand in protest, but he won’t look me in the eye. “You won fair and square. Just not my day, I guess.”

I laugh and tear off a few of the tickets I won, tucking them into my pocket before handing him the rest. “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

“For teaching me how to be a Skee-Ball shark.”

He hesitates a second before taking the tickets. “You don’t want to claim your prize?”

“Nah.” I pat my pocket. “I have these as a memento. You get something cool to remember me by.”

“I’ll do that.” He flashes a mouth full of dentures and opens his arms. “Your momma would be proud of you.”

Swallowing a sob, I hug my new friend goodbye and head toward Pacific Park.

The moment I step under the steel octopus marking the entrance, I’m caught in a wave of sensory overload. My stomach rumbles at the savory aroma of greasy burgers and fries, fresh-baked pizzas and spicy tacos, and the decadent scent of funnel cakes and coffee. But the bells and the flashing lights of the midway make me eager to try my luck.

For the bargain price of three dollars, I can either join the group of kids armed with water guns, hoping to win a one-eyed Minion, or join the teens wielding cushioned mallets and viciously bashing plastic moles over the head for a chance at a stuffed elephant. Or I could skip both and use those three bucks on another funnel cake. Flashing blue lights go off almost simultaneously on both games, signaling the winners, and I move on to what I really came for . . . the rides.

Above me, under a clear blue sky, the roller coaster rattles over the track to a symphony of shrieks and squeals. Behind it, the massive Ferris wheel looms large against a backdrop of the Pacific as I queue up for tickets.

Blocking the sun with my hand, I stare up at the umbrella-covered red and yellow gondolas swooping past. The Pacific Wheel must be over a hundred feet tall. One hundred thirty according to the sign.

The slow spin of the wheel mesmerizes me, and I must be losing my mind because I swear I see Dash in a red gondola. I pull my eyes away and shake my head, refusing to fall for the same hallucination again.

After paying for an all-day pass, I head for the Scrambler.

By the time I line up at the Ferris wheel, I’ve ridden every other ride at least once and eaten my weight in popcorn and cotton candy. I’d love to stay longer, but I haven’t slept more than four hours in the past twenty-four, and my battery is reaching critical mass. Thanks to sleep deprivation, my Dash sightings have exceeded a healthy level. Does everyone in Southern California own a Superman shirt?

I seriously need a nap.

Sleep is highly overrated, imaginary Dash whispers in my head.

Since the real Dash is probably still stuck somewhere in the Midwest, I glower at my feet. “Overrated or not, I’m finding a place to hole up for the night as soon as I get off this ride.”

Since park rules forbid single riders, the attendant pairs me with the Golden Girls. From their coordinating pastel capri pants, large floral-print T-shirts, and floppy straw hats and bags, all the way to their matching white hair, orthopedic sandals, and giant sunglasses, the four remind me of a way cooler version of Reverend Tom’s church lady group. I can almost smell the tuna casserole and lime Jell-O.

Once the last of the ladies climbs in, I follow them into the circular booth and settle in.

“No lap restraints?” The lady with purple lilacs on her shirt gapes at the attendant.

“Nope.” The stone-faced guy slams the tiny doors across the opening, closing us into the giant red teacup.

“Is that even safe?” The lady with the red rose shirt grabs ahold of the center pole as our gondola jerks forward.

As we begin to climb, the guy shouts, “Don’t lean over the side.”

We stop halfway to the top while the attendant fills another gondola, and Pink Peony grabs Purple Lilac’s hand, practically climbing into her lap. “Oh, my word!”

Red Rose sighs. “Look at that view!”

“Stunning,” Daisy agrees with a nod.

The wheel rotates on its steel skeleton, taking us well over a hundred feet into the sky. All I can think is: I wish Dash were here.

Instead of gazing into the horizon like everyone else, I scan the pier below. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’m certain I won’t find it in the ocean.

Purple Lilac cranes her neck and peers over the side. “Did you lose something, dear?”