“Ugh, whose idea was it to get on that?” I bend over and dry heave once we get out of the way of foot traffic. On the plus side, I haven’t thrown up since there’s nothing for me to throw up. On the down side, dry heaving hurts like hell. Kai just looks at me with mock disappointment.

“Yours.”

“And why did you let me decide that?”

“Since when do I let you do anything?” I glare at him and he throws his hands up in surrender. “Don’t blame me, blame rock, paper, scissors.”

I groan loudly right as a group of kids walk by. “That ride should be abolished!”

Kai’s eyes widen before he howls with laughter, bending over to match my position. I should kick him in his kneecap.

“Are you done?” I ask, standing at full attention.

He continues howling like a big dummy for another minute before standing up and wiping a tear from his eye. A genuine tear. It was not that funny.

“Yep, I’m done. Come on, badass. I’ll take it easy on you before we hit the roller coaster.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and all that anger melts away with his touch.

We stuff our faces with cotton candy, funnel cakes, and pizza while playing Whac-A-Mole, ring toss, and challenging each other to a water gun shoot-out. Kai wins me a stuffed animal at the hoop shot game, and we track down his parents so they can hold the gigantic bear while we go cause more trouble. He proves to be slightly stronger than me at the high striker game, but I refuse to acknowledge that. I finally get my revenge once we get on the roller coaster when Kai screams like a baby as we hit a sharp slope. He refuses to let me buy the picture of him midscream from the photo stand, but I sneak back and buy it anyway while he’s off getting us churros.

We’ve got another hour to kill before we have to meet back up with his parents so we decide to ride the Ferris wheel. As we move through the line, Kai seems distracted and nervous. I’m not sure what happened or how to pull him out of it.

Once we get to a seat and are strapped in, I hope the awkwardness will dissipate but instead it multiplies. We have no choice but to sit close to each other, but it feels like we’re miles apart. What happened?

I replay our entire day in my head, and I can’t think of a single moment that could’ve ruined his mood or made him uncomfortable. It’s not like him to hold anything in—we tell each other everything. So, I do the only thing I can think of. I talk.

I ramble on about school and how we’ll be starting high school soon enough, my love of the movie Bend it Like Beckham, and everything I can think of while Kai just sits there quietly.