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"Do you think the clouds are getting darker over there?" Elle
asked, pointing to the west. My eyes, still flashing with sunspots from
her rings, squint at the horizon.

"Maybe a little bit:' I replied, "when I left the house this morn-
ing they weren't calling for rain."

Elle shrugged her thin shoulders, causing the pink linen strap
of her sundress to slide down her sweat-dampened shoulder. She heaved
a bowl of cole slaw Onto the table, then cast her eyes over to the play-
ground. Elle smiled fondly.

"Joe and Daphne love when we all go to the park. We don't
come as often as we'd like, with David working so many weekends this
summer."

"Uh-huh," I nodded noncommittally, not watching the
tow-headed boy gripping the slippery green monkey bars or the curly-
haired little girl bouncing down the slide. My gaze flits nervously to the
swingset. Our childhood friend Carly had squeezed herself onto one
the narrow plastic swings, and I watched as she kicked her legs our, tan
and strong. My brother David stood behind her, propelling her forward.
With each push, Carly arched her back and tilted her head to catch my
brother's eyes, bright as sparks.

I think much of her nervous energy sprung from the old-fash-
ioned carnival we all visited the night before. Each summer, it rolls into
our nearby beach town, and the spinning metal rides and candy-colored
lights seemed to electrify Carly. Elle, complaining the swirling lights and
raucous dings and bings ringing our at every booth gave her a headache,
took Daphne to buy cotton candy, while Carly suggested we ride the
ferris wheel. I assumed David would ride in a seat with his son, bur
Carly hopped onto the small metal bench next to him, the protective
barrier locking them in together. I took the next cart with Joe, pointing
our the view of the carnival sprawled our below us.

I marveled at how different the ride felt at night. In the
daytime, there are always large families wandering around, exhausted
parents with screaming children clinging to them, and those same kids
scream with every gentle rock of the cart. The wheel turns languidly
in the sun, like a sluggish animal reluctant to move too much for fear

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