She took a photo of the girls together just inside the entrance, so she’d know what they were wearing in case anything untoward happened, and she gave them each ten dollars for when they needed snacks. She made them promise to check in with her by phone every twenty minutes. When she and Cam spotted them by the giant swings, they trailed them for a few minutes to make sure no creep-os were bothering them. Then they got in line for the Caterpillar.

If she was being honest, Alexa didn’t mind it when, just as the canopy cover to the Caterpillar was going up, obscuring them from each other’s view, the centrifugal force threw Cam practically on top of her. But in general she was keeping it platonic, and Cam was too. He was good company, and the girls were reliable about checking in, and the time flew by, and every now and then Alexa even managed to forget about the bad men.

They met up for a late lunch with the girls in the early afternoon. When Morgan’s vanilla twist toppled from the cone and onto the ground, Cam was back in the line, buying her a replacement, before a single tear had time to form. Morgan looked at Cam not only like he hung the moon but like he was also responsible for both the Big and Little Dippers, and, when they’d finished their ice cream, they parted ways again.

As Katie and Morgan headed back to the Yankee Cannonball, Alexa pointed to the teacups. “Want to try these?” she asked Cam.

Cam grimaced. “I’m not great with the rides that go around and around,” he said.

“Aw, come on,” she begged. “You did the Caterpillar.”

“That’s different,” he countered. “There’s something about the things that go individually around that get to me.”

Alexa remembered going on the teacup ride with Peter when she was really young, maybe eight or nine, and Morgan was small enough to be pushed around in a rent-a-stroller. “Please? They don’t go very fast at all. And we can control them individually. Look! There are, like, four-year-olds on there.” It was true.

“Okay,” Cam said, relenting. “For you, Alexa Thornhill. Only for you.”

In point of fact the teacups spun faster than Alexa remembered, and, contrary to what she thought, the riders did not control the spin. The ride seemed to go on for a semester and a half. Alexa loved the feeling—she even found herself emitting an out-of-character whoop—but when she caught sight of Cam’s expression she thought she might have gone too far. Queasy was an understatement.

Finally the teacups stopped. Cam was still holding on to the center wheel. His head was bowed.

“Sorry,” she said. “Too spinny?” They were the last ones left in a teacup, and the ride operator was looking at them sternly.