A Tale of Two Centuries by Rachel Harris

This is my chance to prove to him that I’m not the timid girl I once was. The apparent taunt and Austin’s added wink spur me on. “So, you think you’re ready to play at the big girl table now.” The left side of his mouth kicks up in a grin. It’s so fleeting-gone and there in an instant-that I cannot catch it. On Austin’s slow ascent back up, he pauses to look me in the eye and an emotion crosses his face. Humor dissipates as my skin prickles to life. He leans back on his heels and lets his gaze travel over my body. But after no more than a few brief moments, I let forth a victorious giggle. I do everything I can to contain my mounting delight.

It’s made for pint-size ankle-biters ages three and under.” He points a long tan finger at the centipede ride and in a tone dripping with condescension explains, “Less, Arthropod Picnic is a kiddie ride. “You know, it’s like you look normal…” He trails off and shakes his head. He stops rather abruptly and peers at me through squinted eyes. Looking back at the children’s ride, I grab Austin’s elbow and say innocently, “Is this not the roller coaster you are looking for?” This second challenge is supposed to be about fun, and nothing-not even the lead role in a prestigious play with a crowd of a thousand-will give me more joy than turning the tables on him, even if only for a moment. It’s too bad that not all roller coasters can be five feet tall.Īustin believes I am a child, naive and boring, and, it would seem, without any humor. The child in the front seat waves to his mother as the cart dips, and his squeal of joy tails behind him. Just past that is a miniature roller coaster made to look like a giant, happy centipede. Giggling and drooling children clap their adorable hands from their belted saddles while a spirited tune blares overhead. We pass a circular ride filled with fake horses going up and down. I grit my teeth with determination and somehow keep myself from muttering, Yes, Master. As I frantically attempt to match his stride, I must pant or wheeze because he finally looks down at me, no doubt pink-faced and wide-eyed both from the sensory overload surrounding us and my huffing at a near jog to stay beside him. He seems unaware that the length of his legs far exceeds my own. We’ll hit that first and then make our way up to the front.” “So Lethal Xperience is at the back of the park.

Without stopping or even slowing his stride, he grabs a map from a vendor and flips it open.

A Tale of Two Centuries by Rachel Harris