Full Tilt
4/5
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About this ebook
Sixteen-year-old Blake and his younger brother, Quinn, are exact opposites. Blake is the responsible member of the family. He constantly has to keep an eye on the fearless Quinn, whose thrill-seeking sometimes goes too far. But the stakes get higher when Blake has to chase Quinn into a bizarre phantom carnival that traps its customers forever.
In order to escape, Blake must survive seven deadly rides by dawn, each of which represents a deep, personal fear--from a carousel of stampeding animals to a hall of mirrors that changes people into their deformed reflections. Blake ultimately has to face up to a horrible secret from his own past to save himself and his brother--that is, if the carnival doesn't claim their souls first!
Neal Shusterman
Neal Shusterman is the New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of more than fifty books, including Challenger Deep, which won the National Book Award; Scythe, a Michael L. Printz Honor Book; Dry, which he cowrote with his son, Jarrod Shusterman; Unwind, which won more than thirty domestic and international awards; Bruiser, which was on a dozen state lists; The Schwa Was Here, winner of the Boston Globe–Horn Book Award; and Game Changer, which debuted as an indie top-five best seller. He is the winner of the Margaret A. Edwards Award for the body of his work. You can visit him online at storyman.com.
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Reviews for Full Tilt
169 ratings15 reviews
What our readers think
Readers find this title to be a creative and fascinating horror story. The book uses an 'evil carnival' concept to explore people's deepest fears, making the story consistently interesting and intense. It also has a deep and meaningful undertone. Suitable for both teens and adults, this book is highly recommended for horror enthusiasts.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is a great Creepy Carnival book. Blake, his brother Quinn, and their friends Russ & Maggie end up trapped in an otherworldly carnival. The only way out is if they can ride seven rides before dawn. But each ride taps into one of their biggest fears, and no one has ever escaped before... I enjoyed this one. It was fast-paced and creepy with a satisfying ending. It doesn't take long to get to the carnival part and I enjoyed watching Blake try to figure things out.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Great book that really makes you think about other dimensions and if something like this could really happen. I love the "carnival" aspect as the real meaning of this place is extremely evil. I would have loved it if it jumped back to the brothers body that was in a coma and gave us a little "meanwhile, back at the ranch" action to see how the family was dealing with both kids being either in a coma or one missing and the other in a coma.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This book was so creative and fascinating, using an "evil carnival" type thing to show people's deepest fears. It's great because the story is consistently interesting and intense, all while having a very deep and meaningful undertone. Great for teens and adults alike, in my opinion.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5love this horror story!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This book would be good to use when talking about over coming challenges. I think students will like this book because it is a psychological thriller that will keep them turning the page.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Blake goes on a paranormal roller coaster theme park to save his brother. Each ride reveals something hidden inside the rider's heart and mind. But he has to survive seven rides before dawn arrives.... can he do it?
Ridiculous question, because of course he will since it's a YA book.
I was interested in the premise and what each ride would reveal, but all of them were fairly straightforward without that many quirks or twists. It was a decent read and fairly quick, but it didn't really push the boundaries of anything. It wasn't exactly scary, not exactly feelings-evoking, not quite feel good, it was just very flat in a lot of areas.
The character growth and change occurred a little too quickly - shoved in between each ride, I think. The dynamic between the characters didn't really have any depth. Seems like the whole book is an excuse to portray roller coaster rides as something deeper and meaningful.
Two stars because it was okay. I didn't hate it, but it wasn't that great either. I wouldn't really recommend it to anyone unless you are super bored and you like Shusterman's other books. But really, read something else. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5A simple horror book about an amusement park isn't good enough for Neal Shusterman. Oh no, he could never write anything so simple as that.Full Tilt is... chilling. And moving. And deep. As fiction fans like to say, "it says something about the human condition." When I first read this book five years ago, I loved it. It terrified me and thrilled me, I suppose just like an amusement park does for other people. Rereading it this time, though, brought a lot of things to life that I had missed before because of my young age and inexperience.Blake dealing with survival guilt. Quinn dealing with depression. Maggie and Russ have their own problems that aren't really explained, but they're still there, which makes even those two supporting characters believable. The way Blake slowly makes his way through ride after ride, gaining confidence and determination, is just plan old impressive.And the rides are chilling to the bone. Terrifying. Neal Shusterman's ability to make stories come to life is awe-inspiring.I would strongly recommend this book to anyone who has or has had survival guilt or depression. And I would strongly recommend this book to everyone else too.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Wow--that Neil Shusterman has a great imagination! The main character, Blake, is a teen who has survivor guilt after being the sole survivor of a school bus crash when he was seven years old. No one has ever talk about it with him but it has been festering in his unconscious, controlling the careful way he has lived his life. His brother Quinn, as so often happens, has taken another road--he lives recklessly, needing constant bail-outs which Blake thinks are his responsibility to provide. Full Tilt is set in an amusement park, where Blake goes, once again to rescue his brother. In this alternate reality, Blake and his friends must successfully get through seven terrifying rides by dawn, or be forever trapped in the park. The book is a fast-paced thrill ride. As an adult, I was wondering at each ride, why is Blake being made to experience this? What is the lesson for him, and for his brother and friends? Shusterman writes a thrilling page-turner that manages to relay a message about facing ourselves and overcoming our challenges. It's short, only 224 pages, which might make it a good choice for reluctant readers. Would be a good pick for middle and high school boys.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5"They say you never know who's the real hero and who's the real coward until you're looking death in the face. I've always been afraid of plenty of things, but fear isn't what makes you a coward. It's how depraved your heart becomes when fear gets pumped through it. I would never climb over the backs of my friends to save myself."Would you? Blake has always been careful -- ever since he was the lone survivor of a school bus crash when he was seven. His brother Quinn has always been the opposite -- rash and impulsive, and always getting into scrapes requiring Blake to rescue him. Tonight is no different -- Quinn has disappeared from the local carnival, and Blake finds him at home, comatose, with an invitation that Blake had been given to another carnival. Blake goes there only to discover that the price of admission is your soul, and the only way out is to survive seven nightmare rides before dawn. No one has escaped the carnival yet, but if Blake is going to save his brother, he's got to try. Each ride is based on one of Blake's deepest fears -- but every ride has a way out as long as you survive it. Surreal, scary, and quite the wild ride all the way through! 7th grade and up.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This book depicts a world of fantasy and magic that should be difficult to believe. However, somehow the author pulls off an incredible use of texture and emotion that makes it impossible to put down. Neal has done it again, making a wonderful book out of a ridiculous idea. Wow!
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The first is Full Tilt by Neal Shusterman. Reading Full Tilt reminded me of staying up all night reading some juicy young adult horror novel by someone like R.L. Stine, except with more of a message. One night when Blake and his brother Quinn are at an amusement park, a mysterious worker in a ball-toss game slips him an invitation to ride, and an address. After a terrifying ride on the Kamikaze roller coaster, Blake's had about enough of thrill rides for one night and has no interest in going. When Blake wakes up and something is wrong with his brother, Blake knows he's got no choice but to check out the amusement park.What he finds is a sinister game where riders have to ride five terrifying, life threatening rides before dawn to escape the black magical amusement park. Failure means being stuck in the park forever. Success is facing all your very worst fears embedded in what, from the outside, look like ordinary amusement park rides. Despite a niggling sense that the facing your fears angle is all a bit too after-school special, Full Tilt is an addicting book. The ride ideas and the way Blake's fears are woven into them are pretty ingenious, so ingenious that it takes a while even for Blake and, by extension, readers to figure out how exactly they relate, but once it's revealed, it makes sense. It's the first book I've read in a while that has demanded that I stay up late to finish because I just had to know what the next ride would be and if Blake would succeed in saving himself and his brother. If you're looking for a fun pageturner of a book with a serious twist, Full Tilt is definitely one to try.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I read this book without stopping, almost without breathing. It was, in a word, gripping. I would have liked to have seen a little more done with characterization, especially of Quinn (he seemed a little inconsistent in places), but overall I enjoyed this book tremendously.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This book starts off fast, wasting no time with detailed introductions. This does result in a bit of confusion at the beginning, but not to worry, it's all cleared up through the rest of the book. It's a real roller coaster ride (pun not really intended ;P) of a book, suspenseful and thrillingly spooky in all the right places. In terms of characters, some of them are really compelling, while others are left slightly flat. Unfortunately, one of those flat ones, in my opinion, was the main character, which made it a less interesting read. I was very glad to see two brothers so close in age as the main characters, I don't think we see enough brothers in contemporary YA fiction, and I'm glad someone out there is writing YA that is appealing to boys. Shusterman has quite the imagination, and he makes up in imagination what he sometimes lacks in the writing itself. The ending was a bit predictable and felt a bit like one of those "it was all a dream" scenarios, although it wasn't quite that drastically bad. Overall, cool premise, neat delivery, but it could have used just a little bit of tweaking here and there.Rating: 4/5
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This was a pull from the shelf because I loved Antsy Does Time earlier this year. This is a much earlier novel in which Blake finds himself in a fantasy carnival-type world trying to redeem his brother’s soul and keep his friends and himself alive in one wild night. Blake must complete seven rides before dawn or he will become a member of the carnival. The rides are similar to real-life and yet—not really. This is a good fantasy introduction for the tweener set and I enjoyed it.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5A favorite read for both my 10 and 13 year old children. This is the only book they have ever begged me to read so that we could discuss it together. A page turning ghost carnival race against time to save your soul plot evokes Steven King, while the twist at the end surprised us all. Neal Shusterman knows how to write a good story for all ages.
Book preview
Full Tilt - Neal Shusterman
1
I Go Places Sometimes
It began the night we died on the Kamikaze.
I should have known the night was jinxed when Quinn lost his hat on the Raptor. I wasn’t sure where on the roller coaster he lost it because I didn’t ride with him; my friends, Russ and Maggie, did. I had volunteered to wait in line for Icewater Rapids.
What a nice guy,
Maggie had said, giving me a peck on the cheek. Well, nice guy or not, I had my own reasons.
The loss of Quinn’s hat was the first trauma of the evening, but not the first of Quinn’s life. Whole galaxies of traumas revolved around my brother. I knew he wouldn’t part with his hat easily; it was one of his prized possessions—a black baseball cap with a very distinctive design on its face. Not the insignia of a sports team or a designer logo—that wouldn’t do for Quinn. No, his hat featured a rude cartoon of a hand with its middle finger up. He loved that hat because he could flip everyone off on a continual basis.
He was still grumbling about his loss as he, Maggie, and Russ joined me in the line for Icewater Rapids.
There should be catch-nets beneath the ride,
Quinn complained. They’re gonna pay. Russ should have caught it—he was behind me!
As if the whole world were to blame.
Ignore him and maybe he’ll go away,
Russ said, waving his beefy arm dismissively. Russ is what you might call a disenfranchised jock. He muscles up regularly, lifting weights, but never lasts more than a month in any of the sports he’s tried, because he loses interest too quickly. Maybe that’s because so many of the other guys on teams just try to impress the girls, while Russ had no need: He and Maggie had been dating since the beginning of recorded time, with no end in sight.
As for Maggie, she couldn’t have cared less about Quinn’s ravings. She checked herself out in a tall mirror—one of several distractions placed in the long line to break up the monotony. Tell me the truth, do I look fat to you?
she asked me.
You’re kidding, right?
No, seriously.
Russ just laughed.
Maggie, it’s a fun-house mirror. Of course you look fat. That’s the point.
She sighed. "I know that, but fun-house mirrors never usually make me look this fat."
Scootch down a bit,
Russ said, and you’ll be fat in all the right places.
She poked him in the stomach for that one. Warped mirrors aside, Maggie was slim and nice looking. Smart, too. But to hear her talk, you’d think she was dumb and ugly, always comparing herself to the other girls in school.
Congratulations,
I told her, glancing once more at the mirror. I always said you’ve got a distorted view of yourself. Now you really do.
She threw me a twisted grin, and Russ, thinking the grin was meant for him, clamped his muscular arm around Maggie’s waist. I sometimes wondered if Maggie got bruises from the way Russ held her—like, if he let go, she might get away.
You’re probably wondering how I fit into this little high school equation. Well, I suppose if the others are variables, I’m the constant. Constantly studying, constantly busy, constantly shuttling from swim team to debate team to home with the regularity of a celestial clock.
That’s what I like about you,
Russ once told me. You’ve got a level head—and I don’t mean just the haircut.
As far as the equation went, I’d be out of it soon, on account of the way I tested out of high school. Not that I’m a genius or anything. I’m just a mix of a little bit of brains, a whole lot of studying, and a knack for multiple-choice tests. Blend that with a single parent earning minimum wage, and you get a scholarship to New York’s Columbia University at sixteen. I was scheduled to leave next month, right after summer vacation, skipping my senior year of high school entirely.
Columbia?
Russ had said. Wow, I didn’t even know you spoke Spanish!
Maggie had told me he was kidding, but we both knew he wasn’t. Let’s face it, if my bulb was halogen, Russ had an energy saver. But that’s okay. He had other things going for him. Like his easygoing personality. Like Maggie.
Me, I was between girlfriends. So when we took our little road trip to Six Flags, instead of a date, I ended up with Quinn.
I turned around, noticing that Quinn had stopped grumbling about his hat. That’s because he was gone.
Forget about him,
Russ said. He’ll turn up eventually, and even if he doesn’t, no great loss.
I shook my head. If he gets into trouble, we’ll all get ejected from the park.
Which happened once before, when Quinn took an M-80 and blew up an animatronic mime.
You know that’s what he wants,
Maggie said, to make us all look for him.
He’s a waste of life,
said Russ, and it annoyed me. I was the only one allowed to call Quinn a waste of life.
Next time bring a metal detector,
Maggie suggested. Easiest way to find him.
I laughed at that. She was, of course, referring to Quinn’s many facial accessories. Studs, rings, and dangling things. They weren’t just in his ears, but in his eyebrows and nose. He had one in his lip, too. Call me old-fashioned, but I figure a thirteen-year-old like Quinn could get away with one, maybe two rings before maxing out the face-to-metal ratio.
I asked Russ and Maggie to wait for me when they were done with the raft ride. Then I wound my way out of the line until I came to a wide pathway that was almost as crowded as the line. In an amusement park this big, I knew if I let him get too far away, I’d never find him. And Maggie was right; he’d like that just fine. He’d ruin my night by making me worry where he was and what kind of crazy thing he was doing, then he’d show up at the car an hour after closing, with a smug grin stretched across his ring-filled face.
Fine, let him get lost, I told myself. I don’t care. But the problem was, I did care, and that annoyed me even more.
For a long time everyone thought Quinn was autistic. Hard to believe that, looking at him now. Now he was just a self-centered royal pain. But when he was a baby, he would turn all his attention inward, never making eye contact with anyone. He was almost three and a half before he even spoke. It happened right before our parents split up. We went to one of those cheesy carnivals that came to town every year. Dad took us on a kiddie coaster. Quinn smiled—and back then Quinn never smiled. Then, when the little ride grinded to a halt, Quinn spoke.
Daddy, more.
We were speechless. Until then Quinn had never put a coherent thought together. It was as if the ride had stimulated something in my brother that had always been dormant. Dad moved out a few weeks later. It was on the night of our annual viewing of The Wizard of Oz, just about the time that Almira Gulch turns into the Wicked Witch of the West. I still can’t watch that movie without getting a sick feeling in my stomach, like it’s my own house spinning inside of a tornado.
Our father probably would have left a few years earlier had Quinn not been born. Quinn wasn’t planned. He was an accident.
Enough of an accident to keep Dad around until Quinn was three. Since he left, our lives have been a roller coaster of Mom’s raging romances with men who weren’t good to her, or to us.
As for Quinn, that first ride opened the door to bigger things. Stimulation and saturation. His life was a festival of excess that could not be contained. Deafening music, eye-popping bright colors, sugar added to almost everything he ate. Quinn’s life was a bullet in a barrel ready to explode.
I searched the amusement park for fifteen minutes before I found him. I would have found him sooner had I been thinking like a lunatic, to whom breaking laws is a lifestyle choice.
About a dozen people stood in the middle of a wide pathway, looking up at something. I followed their gaze to some imbecile climbing the support scaffolding of a roller coaster. He was at least fifty feet high and leaned dangerously toward a piece of cloth wedged between two crossbeams. It was a hat. That’s when I realized that the imbecile and I came from the same gene pool. And the law my brother was trying to break now was the law of gravity.
Is that part of the Spider-Man show, Mommy?
I heard a little kid next to me ask. I hurried toward the roller coaster, ready to kill my brother, if he didn’t do the job himself.
Have I ever told you what a psycho you are?
I stood on the exit stairs of the Raptor, looking out at Quinn, who clung to the support beam about six feet away from me. I looked around to see if any guards had noticed him out there, but for the moment Quinn’s antics had found a security blind spot.
"Hey, defib, okay? I had to get my hat." He stretched his hand out toward it, but it was still just out of his reach.
Did you ever consider engaging your brain?
I easily grabbed the hat from where I stood on the exit stairs.
He sneered at me, but he did seem a bit red in the face. Oh, sure, do things the easy way.
There was something else about him too. Not now, but when I’d first arrived. I’d seen the way he’d reached for his hat, as if he weren’t hanging fifty feet above the asphalt. As if he didn’t notice where he was until I’d brought it to his attention. There were times that he sort of slipped out of phase with reality—a holdover, I guess, from those early years when he was so locked in his own private universe. It wasn’t just that he didn’t see the big picture. Sometimes he saw a different picture entirely.
Now Quinn looked down, taking stock of his situation, and shrugged, swinging to another girder closer to the stairs, still using the ride’s infrastructure as his own personal jungle gym.
Isn’t it enough that you drive Mom crazy?
I asked him. Is it such a stretch for you to be normal just this once?
He tossed his head, flinging a lock of his uneven hair out of his face. If that’s what you are, I’d rather be deviant.
Unable to reach the railing of the stairs from where he hung, he grabbed a bar above his head and let his legs swing free, as if the fifty-foot drop beneath him were nothing. A sizable crowd had gathered below, gawking and pointing.
That’s when I noticed the vibration. I felt it in the staircase railing before I heard or saw it: a shuddering of metal crashing downhill. It came to me in an instant what I already knew but had forgotten until that moment.
The Raptor was a hanging roller coaster. The bars Quinn dangled from were part of the track.
Quinn realized it too, and he tried to swing himself closer to the railing but didn’t have enough momentum.
All at once the train swung around an outside curve, its riders screaming with joy, completely unaware of my idiot brother directly in their path.
I leaned out as far as I could, grabbed Quinn by the waist, and wrenched him from the hanging track. I almost lost him, but I got enough of him over the rail to flip him onto the stairs. We tumbled on the steps, while just past the railing, the Raptor sliced past, a blur of green and black, gone in an instant.
I should have been relieved, but saving Quinn was such a regular pastime for me, all I could feel was anger. I’m tired of saving your friggin’ butt,
I told him, although friggin’ and butt weren’t exactly the words I used.
Then his eyes glazed over for a second.
I go places sometimes,
he told me, his voice as thready and distant as his eyes. Don’t know why I go places . . . I just do.
It caught me off guard. He was around six the last time he said that. It was a whisper at bedtime, like a confession. A secret, too fragile for the light of day. I go places sometimes.
But right then I wasn’t feeling too sensitive. Next time you go, bring me back a shirt.
He snapped out of whatever state he was in, and something inside him closed up like a camera shutter. He glanced defiantly at the ride that had almost turned him into roadkill, then looked back to me.
Nice save, bro.
Then he put on his hat, effectively flipping me off without lifting a finger.
2
An Invitation to Ride
We found Russ and Maggie standing dangerously close to the entrance of another roller coaster—the new one, hyped up to be the mother of all thrill rides. Flaming fragments of Japanese Zero planes decorated the entrance. The ride was called, of course, the Kamikaze. The thing was a mutated hybrid, offering the bone-jarring rattles of an old-fashioned wooden coaster along with the loops and corkscrews of a hightech steel one.
I refused to look up at the dizzying monster above me, but I did see the twisting nightmare of a line in front of us, which ended at the sign saying SIXTY MINUTE WAIT FROM THIS POINT.
Icewater Rapids was totally geriatric,
Russ said. Blue hair and denture cream all the way.
I doubt we’ll get to ride the Kamikaze if we don’t get in line now,
Maggie said.
Russ levered his arm around her in his usual rib-crunching style. It’s now or never.
I gave him a look of casual annoyance. Look at that line. What a waste of time. Let’s find something else to do.
Quinn rolled his eyes, adjusted his hat, but said nothing.
Are you kidding?
said Russ. Miss the main attraction?
Do you really want to wait for an hour in that line?
The ride’s only been open a week, and I hear they already have three lawsuits,
Russ said. "You expect me to miss a ride like that?"
It was a good point, and I knew the three of them would end up riding. I also knew if I kept debating, one of them would suggest that I go do something else. I wanted that suggestion to come from them, not from me.
Just then some pimple-faced, buzzard-necked employee removed the chain that blocked the ride’s second line—a line that was completely empty.
No way!
said Quinn, so excited that he almost drooled.
Suddenly I had no reasonable argument not to ride.
My panic built as people ran to the empty line like passengers leaping from the Titanic. Guys, what’s the big deal, anyway?
Maggie took a dangerously deep look at me. Are you scared, Blake? Don’t be—you’ll have fun.
Scared? Don’t be ridiculous,
I told them. I love roller coasters.
Yeah, sure,
Quinn said with a sneer.
I threw Quinn a warning glare. He swore he wouldn’t tell anyone—but then what did Quinn’s word ever mean?
Blake’s terrified of roller coasters,
Quinn said.
I tugged on the sputnik hanging in his ear, and his head tilted to one side. Ow!
Russ looked at me like I was someone he didn’t know. He’s kidding, right?
I stammered a bit. Lying is not one of my better skills.
Blake hates airplanes and roller coasters and fast cars,
Quinn said.
That’s not true!
It is and you know it!
Quinn turned back to my friends. He’s a grade-A chicken. Yellow as a school bus!
That’s what did it. I don’t know if Quinn realized what he had said. I didn’t even think he knew about the School Bus Incident. But whether it was intentional or not, it got my feet moving.
Sure, I’ll ride. Can’t wait.
I tried to sound casual about it, and that’s hard to do through clenched teeth. I forced myself forward, keeping my pace steady as I wove through the empty line. I didn’t slow down until I saw the big warning sign in bright red letters. You know the one: YOU MAY NOT RIDE THIS ATTRACTION IF YOU ARE PREGNANT, HAVE BACK TROUBLE, A HEART CONDITION, HEMORRHOIDS, WATER ON THE KNEE, BLAH-BLAH-BLAH. I slowed down, glanced at the emergency exit, and got an unwanted blast of déjà vu. I knew I hadn’t been here before, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.
What’s the matter?
Russ asked. Feeling a pregnancy coming on?
I laughed, but I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from the emergency exit sign. Quinn, on the other hand, never even looked. Like everything else in his life, he crashed forward, caution the first casualty.
It took only a few minutes to reach the ride. Quinn, of course, grabbed the front car, smiling back at me. Next stop, Willoughby,
he said, quoting the old Twilight Zone episode. Room for one more.
Russ and Maggie took the seat behind him. I stood there, frozen.
C’mon, Blake,
Russ said. One last thrill before the ivy.
Ivy, I recalled, is what they generally put on a grave.
Very funny,
I said a moment before I realized that he really meant Columbia University, which is an Ivy League school. Duh. I took my place next to Quinn, my feet uncomfortably crossed in front of me. I pulled down the lap bar, double-checked it, then triple-checked it. Quinn snickered at the expression that must have filled my face.
Are we having fun yet?
Just shut up, okay?
The little train jerked forward and began to ratchet up a steep climb toward the first drop. You gotta live for this, bro,
Quinn said. Live for it, like I do.
The Kamikaze dragged us heavenward and reached the peak of its first drop. We lingered for a moment at the peak, then hurled into a suicide plunge. My stomach tried to escape though my eyeballs. My brain became a pancake pressed to the dome of my skull. Quinn whooped and wailed, loving the feeling. You gotta live for it, he had said, but right now I just wanted to live through it.
The safety bar offered no safety at all, and all at once I was back there again.. ..
Seven years old, spinning out of control. My first ride . . .
No! I told myself. No, I would not go there. I wouldn’t think about it. I pushed the memory down so deep, not even the Kamikaze could shake it loose.
The roller coaster bottomed out and turned sharply to the left, spinning into a double corkscrew. Quinn’s hands were in the air as he screamed with the thrill of the ride. I gripped the safety bar, gritting my rattling teeth.
The Kamikaze doubled back, and the force of the turn cut into my side as we shot toward an insane loop. My head was pressed forward by g-forces. The earth and sky switched places, and back again. Then, as we came out of the loop, I caught sight of a wooden support strut tearing away from the weblike scaffolding of the Kamikaze. The thick pole plunged like a felled tree.
No!
I screamed. No!
It wasn’t my imagination. It was real! Crossbeams fell away next to me. The rattle of the ride