Midnight.
There were so many stories about midnight. The magic hour, the witching hour. But they were all just stories. Katie was a modern girl, and wisely didn't believe in that kind of thing. Midnight, after all, was just a time on a clock. It was always midnight somewhere.
So when the carnival man had told her not to run the carousel ride after midnight, she hadn't paid much attention. "Don't let little kids ride it late at night" was what she heard. The carnival was open until twelve-thirty the week that it was in town, but who would let their little kids out that late?
But it wasn't really an issue. The carousel wasn't that popular anyway. Katie was pretty, and that helped attract some attention to it — she was pretty sure that was why she was hired — but it was a little kids' ride. A few teenagers rode it on dates. And one pleasant elderly couple relived a ride from their youth. But those were all early riders — by nine o'clock, she was left alone with nothing but the ceramic horses and her thoughts.
And her mind did wander. She mostly remembered how Erik had looked at graduation. She'd had a crush on him for years, and that was the last time she'd seen him. He'd even congratulated her on graduating, although she'd been too flummoxed to say anything in return. She'd wished she had the guts then to ask him out on a date — or better yet, when she'd bumped into him in the halls at school for the three years beforehand after he'd transferred to this dinky little town — but that was done. Water under the bridge. Now she was by herself, working this odd job to save up for college in the fall, and
not
on a date on this last Saturday night of the carnival like every other girl in town was.
She rued her luck and her shyness. There was no Erik in her future. She didn't know what she wanted to do in college either — she had no trouble getting into a good one with her good grades, but she didn't have any goals beyond that. That hadn't really been her goal either — that was more her parents' doing. And here she wasn't even working a normal burger-flipping job that would last longer than a week. Her life had stopped at graduation, and she really wanted a do-over.
A figure approached through the darkness.
"Hey, is this ride still open?"
Katie's heart nearly exploded. She nodded, dumbly. Standing before her, with a ball of cotton candy in his hand, was Erik. He wasn't the tallest boy in school, but he was tall. He wasn't the strongest boy in school, but he was strong. She had quietly tracked him and his activities for years, and like her, he had wandered. No clubs. No real sports. A little time on the tennis team, but that hadn't lasted.
He ran his free hand through his sandy-brown hair, grinning with perfect white teeth. "I always liked these old carousels," he said. "They're really a slice of classic Americana. And I like them, even if they're not a 'cool' ride. I had to lie to the guys so I could come over here." He glanced over his shoulder, and there were a couple of faces leering in the distance.
She nodded again. Say something, girl! He's right there! Say something!
"I told them that I was coming over here to ask you out on a date," he said, and it took all the force of her will to keep her feet planted on the ground. "So now this is the part where you look like you'll say yes, but only if I ride the carousel first."
The lump in her throat was a mile thick. "Y—yes, but only — only if you ride — the carousel first."
He looked at her quizzically. "Are you alright?"
"F—fine. Just something in the air here."
"Okay." He looked back, and the faces leering in the distance hadn't moved. "Darn those jerks. Okay, look, I know it's an imposition, but as long as they're watching — could you join me on the carousel so it looks like we really made that deal?"
She had nothing to say, and nodded stupidly. She looked down at the carousel controls. The clock read 12:07. Whatever. He was here. She had a shot at him. This was going to be the night she'd remember the rest of her life. Running the carousel would be fine. It was only a very little after midnight anyway.
"C — climb on," she said, pointing.
He walked over to the carousel, picked out a blue horse, and started to mount it. "No, not that one!" she said, biting her lip. "That one." She pointed.
He consented, continuing around the carousel, following her finger, and stopped at her goal. The horse was a marvel, a great fire-red beast with an orange mane and tail. It was the best horse on the carousel by far, bigger than the others, with exquisite detail that she'd studied for turn after turn after turn all week. She watched her knight climb onto his horse, and nearly melted at the sight.
She took a deep breath, flipped the switch, and ran at a full sprint over to the carousel. To the horse in front of him. That would be hers. She couldn't ride behind. She'd fall off if she spent five straight minutes staring at him. No, she had to ride in front, on this dark-purple horse with the pinkish tail, always chased by the red one, but never caught. It was as close as she dared get to him. She held onto the pole as if it was keeping her alive.
The music started to play, and the carousel began to spin. Erik grinned. "I love these old things. I like modern conveniences and new rides too, but there's really no substitute for the classics. Plus, I like horses. My family owns one, but I don't get to spend much time with it. You're lucky that you get to run this thing all day."
She nodded. She couldn't speak. Around and around and around — her head was spinning faster than the carousel was.
"I've seen you before, in school. You graduated in my class, didn't you?" he said. "What's your name?"
"K — Katie," she said.
"That's pretty," he said. "It fits you."
He did
not
just compliment her! Her mind was swimming.
"I'm really sorry I forced you to ride with me," he said. "I'll make it up to you. I at least owe you dinner, or something."
"Is — that a date?" she said, gulping.
"Uh — sure," he said. "If you'd like. It's been a while since I was last on a date, but, uh, sure."
The carousel was surely spinning faster — or was it Katie's head? The lights of the carousel were brighter, too, flashing faster. She started to feel dizzy. Around and around, and
he
was there. The impossible was happening. He'd asked her on a date. It was no wonder it seemed too much.
"I — is this ride — off?" he asked. "It — it feels like it's faster. Too fast."
Maybe it was. But she couldn't let go of the pole. She'd fall over if she dared.
The lights flashed brighter and brighter, and surely the carousel was spinning faster now, the music an indiscernible melange of notes, and suddenly sparks flew down from the ceiling, golden-white stars raining over her, twirling about her, whirling about her, and she looked up, daring to bask in the cascading sparks that fell over all the horses, every one around the ride. The world vanished in a whirl of white.
The carousel's lights dimmed, and it wound back down to a halt. Two figures stumbled off the ride, their feet clanking loudly on the hard metal platform, and disappeared into the hazy blackness behind it.
And before the lights went out, before the last glimmer went away, one could just barely see that two of the horses were missing.
* * *
Katie wandered in the darkness. Blackness. Grayness. No, this wasn't darkness — it was fog. And it was lifting, quickly, as she moved. It was brighter over there.
She emerged from a forest into a green meadow on a bright, brilliant sunny day, with puffy white clouds in the sky.
It had been night, hadn't it? She remembered the carnival. She worked there. It was late then. Yes, she had worked the carousel ride. Tonight was the last night before they packed up. And — Erik.
He had been there, with her, on the carousel. That was right. No, that was a dream. Impossible. And then — it grew dizzy and hazy and bright. And then she was here, standing in a meadow, the wafting breeze gently brushing the grasses against her legs.
