When the final bell rings, I toss my bike into the back of Autumn’s car.

And she lets me play all my favorite songs.

And at least between the two of us, it’s like old times.

But then. “Hey, you missed the turn,” I say, glancing over.

“Oh, did I?” she asks, winking.

“Where are we going?”

She shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

As soon as we hit the exit ramp, it’s like my face has a mind of its own, I’m cheesing hard. “Waaaiittt. Are we going . . .”

Autumn raises her eyebrows twice. “Oh yeah, baby.”

And then we’re slapping uncoordinated fives across the seat, but who cares about our inslaptitude, because this place.

THIS PLACE.

A mile away, you whiff the excitement: a combo of extra-powdered-sugar funnel cake and metallic adrenaline. With every This Way sign you pass, your chest hums like you’re a live wire, and your stomach’s a sloshing whirlpool of I’m so happy and I need to throw up. It’s the best.

We pull up to the parking attendant and we practically sing her a good afternoon.

“You two picked the perfect afternoon to come to THE BEST AMUSEMENT PARK ON THE PLANET,” the attendant says, handing me my change. “Gonna be an awesome day!”

“We think so too,” Autumn says.

“Every day is awesome with this lady,” I say, grinning.

“Aww,” the parking attendant says, clutching his heart. “You guys are totes adorbs.”

“Map?” asks a blond kid wearing the park’s uniform, red polo with blue sleeves, skinny-ass shorts.

“Map?” I wave him off, hit him with pshhhh. “We don’t need no stinking map. This is our park. These coasters run through my veins.”

“We’ve added three steel coasters, two wooden, and ten additional rides since last summer,” the blond kid says, smirking.

I take the map, but I don’t look at it right away ’cause principles.

We pause for a quick entrance pic with a park photographer; on the count of three say ‘rocking roller coast’!

“ROCKING ROLLER COAST,” we scream, leaping into the air.

“So, what should we ride first?” Autumn asks.

“You already know,” I say.

“Hold up,” Autumn says. “You sure you wanna go right to that?”

I nod extra enthusiastically, rub my hands together like I’m starting a fire.

“You don’t want a warm-up ride first?”

“What, you scared?”

Autumn scoffs. “Never scared. I’m just saying, far as I know you only brought one pair of undies, so.”

I grin, palm her head. “We should probably make sure you’re tall enough first, right?”

She jerks from my grip. Pushes my arm away. “For that, I’m making you ride up front.”

I shrug. “How is that a punishment?”

We stand in line for the Atlas Destroyer nearly two hours, but finally we push through the turnstile. Our time’s arrived and it feels seventy-nine levels of glorious.