Ted snapped his gum and smiled as the satisfying sound made Thomas wince beside him. He hoped his friend would turn and roll his eyes, but Thomas kept writing. Disappointed, Ted snapped it again.
“Okay, what do you want?” Thomas growled, looking up. Ted grinned and showed his friend a recently-completed drawing of a feathered dragon.
“Pretty sweet, huh?”
Thomas only nodded, put his ear buds in, and turned back to whatever he was writing in his water-damaged notebook. Ted scowled. He wanted to yell I’m bored! at everyone in the minivan. Every kid was preoccupied with a phone or Game Boy. No one ever just talks anymore.
No matter. They would be at the beach soon. Ted and Thomas were going to hit up the rides at Coast Coasters. The park had a lame name, but their newest ride, Marauder, was one of the fastest, most jarring rides in the country. The anticipation of wind in his face and heart-stopping drops awaiting Ted made the van feel even more stuffy, the potholed road crazily disappointing.
After forever and a half, the high peaks of Sky Drop and Tsunami came into view, just to the left across the parking lot. Ted’s mom let the two boys off at the front gate. “I’d ask if you’re sure you don’t want to join us swimming, but I won’t annoy you this time,” she smiled.
They said the standard bye-have-fun as Ted hopped out of the van. “Leave the notebook,” Ted commanded, pointing at the spiral-bound still tucked in Thomas’ arm.
“Ditch the gum,” the other boy countered, and climbed out with the notebook. The boys dropped the argument and surveyed the park. “Still early enough to skip some of the crowds,” Thomas observed as they got their hand stamps and entered under the sign of park rules no one ever read.
They wasted no time heading straight to the Marauder and joining the short line. It wouldn’t be short for long, but Ted wanted to ride this thing ten times today. He had to get the early runs while he could.
The line moved up, putting the boys near the front for the next round. Ted was psyched--they might get the first car in the coaster. He leaned on a sign nailed to the metal gate and looked over the park at Fire Dragon, his favorite ride. He fully expected that to change after today.
Thomas followed Ted’s gaze. “Looks run-down,” his friend commented. “Maybe the park ghost doesn’t want it here anymore.” Ted ignored a slight twinge of sadness and laughed with Thomas.
“Maybe I can replace it with that gum statue,” Ted commented. His friends always joked that he should combine his favorite things and build a dragon sculpture out of ABC gum.
Thomas turned. “Hey, look,” he said, pointing smugly at the sign at Ted’s back. “No gum.”
Ted read the rules of the sign:
- No open-toed shoes
- Keep arms and legs inside car
- No unattached objects
- No food, drinks or gum
He scoffed. “They’ll have to pry it out of my teeth. What am I gonna do, choke?”
Thomas shrugged. “I heard a story that this kid brought scissors on the Hurricane,” he said, nodding at a ride that was lamer than it sounded. You sat in this chair hanging below it and the ride spun, making the chair swing toward the edge like it was going to be thrown off. It got old the second time Ted rode it. “The scissors flew out and sliced up some of the riders, before coming back and stabbing the girl to death. They say the seat still has bloodstains.”
Did Thomas really believe this crap? Ted rolled his eyes. “Yep, the ghost picked up the scissors and attacked everyone. Obviously the story was just made up to scare kids. I’ll be fine. But you probably don’t want to lose your precious diary,” Ted mocked. Thomas scowled but didn’t correct him.
Two Coast Coasters employees in purple-and-yellow uniforms came out with bins, one gray, one black. “Put your extra stuff in here,” one employee drawled, holding out her gray bin at a sagging angle. “You’ll get it back after the ride.” The people in front of Ted dropped a camera and a stuffed animal from the stupid carnival games in the bin, which fell out onto the dusty ground as they entered the ride. She made no move to pick it up. Thomas put the notebook inside, and it stayed.
The employee raised a bored eyebrow at Ted. He grinned, blew a large blue bubble, and shrugged to show he had nothing. “Sir, you’re gonna need to spit out your gum,” the girl mumbled. Ted breezed past her, pretending he didn’t hear.
The guy with her spoke behind Ted. “Put the notebook in here,” he instructed. He probably meant the black extra bin, which seemed pointless. “He and his friend won’t…” Ted ignored the rest of the exchange and met Thomas sitting at the front of the coaster. Ted pulled down the dumb protective bar in front of himself, rolling his eyes and snapping his gum.
The ride started with a jolt. Ted grinned at the familiar tightening in his chest as the car ascended straight up, nodded when it perched on the top, whooped and yelled during the blindingly fast drop. The cold wind whipped his face raw, but the gum stayed put in his open mouth. Ted laughed in the spinning corkscrew, and looked to his left at Thomas. The boy held tightly to the bar, looking nauseous. Kid’s having fun. He just doesn’t know it yet, thought Ted dismissively.
Another drop was coming. Ted chewed his gum, mouth closed, as the car climbed even higher than before. The gum felt bigger. A lot bigger. He wondered why it expanded on rides. I’ll ask Thomas when we get off, he decided.
Then Ted felt the gum get even bigger. He gasped and tried to yank it out, but it grew to fill his whole mouth, forcing it open. Ted could feel the gum expanding down his throat. He couldn’t cry out. He couldn’t breathe. Panicked, Ted punched Thomas just as the coaster reached the top. Thomas turned and his eyes widened slightly as he saw Ted’s open, gum-filled mouth.
“It’s the ghost. She isn’t happy you disobeyed her rules. Goodbye, Ted,” Thomas sighed in a flat voice.
The car shot down the track. Ted thrashed. The gum was oozing in blue ropes out of his mouth and wrapping around his chest and arms, pinning them. It expanded again and crawled over Ted. Without warning, the ropes leapt onto Thomas’ eyes, turning the boy’s apathetic expression to panic.
Thomas cried out and clawed at the gum spreading over his face and body. It immediately grew to cover his hands and froze them to his face. He fixed enraged eyes on Ted. “THIS IS ALL YOUR--”
The gum covered his mouth and cut off his growl. Ted’s friend looked like a sick sculpture. Ted didn’t know whether the screams behind him were from the roller coaster or the horrific sight.
Ted wanted to throw up. He felt the gum burrow through his insides like worms. It was everywhere; it was part of him. A chilling voice whispered in Ted’s ear:
“You did not heed the signs. You have angered me, and now you will pay.”
Ted’s chest tightened again, but it was not out of anticipation. He felt a knot of gum forming in his ribs. He only hoped he would reach the platform before the gum ball could do anything.
The hope was futile. In a searing burst of pain, a thick vine of gum shot from Ted’s chest, outside and inside, straight for Thomas. The gum, mixed with blood and shattered bone, circled the boy’s neck and squeezed. The blue monster on Ted’s face moved to cover his eyes and ears. The last thing he saw through the pain and the gum was Thomas’ murderous frozen gaze, screams and the clicks of wheels on track muted in the background.
Ted prayed for the pain in his chest and body to end. As the world of blue faded to black, he had one final thought.
Thomas wouldn’t get to ride Marauder ten times.
He wouldn’t even live to see the end of one.
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