I clutch Autumn’s shoulder. “Still time to back out. I’ll only tell a few people.”

She laughs. “Giving yourself a pep talk, J?”

“How tall is this again?” I ask a roller-coaster attendant.

She chuckles. “Three hundred and fifty feet, with four loopty-loos, six hills, and five pitch-black tunnels.”

“And no one’s died?” I motion to Autumn. “Asking for a friend.”

“Ohmigod, J! OH. MY. GOD. That was incredible! Best ninety-three seconds of my life!”

I wink at her. “Hmm, I feel like you’ve had better, you know what I’m saying,” I say, gently elbowing her in her side.

“Noopppeeee, this was the best,” she sings.

She runs down the ride exit ramp and I chase her.

Your favorite amusement park and your favorite person, what could be better?

And then we’re in line for our favorite loaded fries, and I’m like, okay, Universe, out here trying to make amends, I see you.

But then a voice calls my name from behind and I wave my fists at the sky because, nope, still up to your same tricks.

42

I can’t believe my eyes.

What were the odds?

“You’re not here to physically delete your number from my phone, are you?”

And I try to smile, but it’s hard when all you feel inside is terror.

What if he is here to delete his number?

Or to kick me to Jupiter?

Or . . .

Q closes the gap between us, slaps his meaty hand on my shoulder. “Bro, do you wanna talk or not?”

“Huh?” I say. “Wait, you want to talk?”

He shrugs. “What, you thought this was like the movies where two principal characters get into a seemingly impossible-to-resolve conflict, effectively severing their relationship not only emotionally but also physically, until lo and behold, they run smack-dab into each other in the least coincidental but ultimately super-conveniently super-cool setting, i.e., an amusement park?”

“That’s exactly what I thought, yes.” And then I finally get it. And I stare into Autumn’s eyes, and then Q’s eyes, and then back to Autumn’s, then back to Q’s.

“I smell a conspiracy. You two set this up, didn’t you?”

And I barely pin the question mark on my sentence’s end when the two of them, in unison, shout: “OH MY GOD! YES, JAMAL!”

41

Q isn’t making a blink of eye contact.

His hands are on the back of his head, like he’s chilling in a hammock as opposed to sitting outside the park’s petting zoo with his former best friend.

And initially, I was fully prepared to begin this conversation.

But when I began, he waved me off.

So, here we sit. Silently not looking at each other.

And then finally: “I kept waiting for you to come. I knew you would. But my dad kept getting sicker and sicker and you were nowhere to be found.”