Zombie Hayride Read online

  At first Zander thought he meant him and was almost going to say something stupid like, "I like you, too." He did like him because when you're a stranger in a strange place, someone as nice as Eric makes you feel a lot better.

  "That was York," Zander said.

  "Is he coming tonight?"

  "I think so."

  Eric was a high school boy and knew everything you needed to know. You had two choices. One was to ask him. The other was to hope he would figure it out and tell you. Zander chose the second one.

  Eric didn't disappoint him.

  "The hayride around here, people sometimes steal a kiss."

  The shock of the words pinned Zander down. But he recovered when he could breathe again.

  "I heard about that."

  Eric took out his harmonica. "Any requests?"

  "I don't really know country music."

  "Here's a riff." Eric played something. "That's the blues."

  Zander waited for more. Or he waited for anything.

  "This town isn't that bad," Eric said. "I'm a junior at the high school."

  "Do you like it?"

  Eric looked like he had something to say that wasn't small talk. He also looked way more honest than Zander, if it's possible to just plain look honest.

  "I'll play a blues number out there."

  Zander wondered if Eric had come up to him because he liked him. Did all the boys around here like you? Or was something else going on?

  "That would be nice," Zander said.

  "Don't get off the wagon too soon." Eric put the harmonica back. "I'll play it the second time around."

  "Okay."

  Eric was a nice guy. And he tipped his hat when he left.

  Zander stood there a while thinking about Eric and about the type of people you met in a small town. If you were the harmonica player, you didn't sit next to anyone on a hay bale. You just played your song, that was your job. And sometimes you played the blues.

  "Ready for tonight?" York said. He had come out of nowhere.

  "Are you?" Zander was feeling a little off, a little strange.

  They walked toward the wagon because people were starting to do that.

  "Sure," York said.

  You had to get a ticket but tickets were cheap. You could ride this thing every night without breaking your entertainment budget. Zander hadn't heard of anything else to do in this town but this was the only place he wanted to be.

  "The ticket is for the whole ride," he said.

  "I know."

  They stepped up on the wagon and went to the same area, which was near the back. They sat together on one bale but last night they had two different bales. Something was going right. Zander found himself thinking about the blues song, if it was going to have lyrics that Eric would sing between riffs.

  Zander knew they sang things between riffs. Things that were going wrong in their life. But things were going right for Zander.

  "It's getting dark," he said.

  "It's about to start."

  2

  York

  WHEN THE wagon moved, it wasn't that different than when it was sitting there. But there were ups and downs in the trail, bumps that knocked you up against York. You don't steal a kiss on the first time around but you can steal a look. Zander made that rule up himself.

  York was looking back.

  Eric started out with a country song. And this time he was doing words, which he never did the night before unless he did it after York and Zander got off. It seemed like everything was moving fast, that is, other than the wagon.

  Zander had heard about hayrides before. He had just assumed they were boring. You get on some slow flatbed with bales of hay and that's about it. So why was it so exciting when you were actually doing it?

  York looked nervous because his eyes kept jumping around. Was he planning out the moment when he would kiss Zander? There was no pressure for now. All you had to do was take in the music. Eric was playing it good. If they weren't paying him to do it and if no one ever sat with him on the bale, why did he do it?

  But you could tell he liked it. And that he was going to be there every night.

  Zander sat back and watched the sky get darker. He liked looking at the lights behind them, the colors that sliced through the night where yellow wouldn't let go for miles.

  Once or twice he made eye contact with Eric. Eric was keeping watch over him. When you had someone on your side, it made a difference. It gave you the nerve to stand your ground if York tried to get off at the end of the first loop. Zander would stay on board alone if he had to. Other people had done it. It looked like a few were doing it on this ride, just enjoying the ride and the music but not sitting with anybody.

  As slow as the wagon rolled, it did make its way toward the outer turn, the one that would send it back home. The yellow lights were getting dim for now but they would get brighter again after the turn. Zander shuddered, then bumped York partly by accident but also on purpose.

  "You alright?" York said.

  "We aren't getting off."

  "I know."

  What was York going through? Was it the same thing that was pounding on Zander? The hayride had a long ways to go but it would get there. It would get to the place where the kissing was scheduled. If you jumped off, you knew why you were doing it and York would also know the reason why.

  So would Eric.

  Eric wasn't exactly staring but he was letting you know that he expected things from you. You had to face up to how you felt about York, something Zander hadn't thought that much about. From the outer turn and down the run toward the colored lights, he was thinking hard.

  He was thinking that he liked York and he didn't want York to know it.

  But Eric was shaking things up. He wouldn't let you slack off. You had to act on the way you felt because somebody was going to call you on it if you didn't. Why did Eric have to make it so difficult? Why couldn't people just leave you alone?

  There was one way to blow it all up. Steal the kiss. Don't wait for York, who could be really scared and there was no one on his side.

  All the lights were getting easy to see, including the blue. They gave you every mood that was running through you. All you could do was follow.

  "We're almost there," York said.

  "Don't get off."

  "I won't if you won't."

  The only person on the ride who wasn't scared was Eric. All he had to do was keep on playing his songs, plus the one he had promised for Zander, the blues number.

  The people that were alone were losers. Not Zander. He felt calm for the first time since he had met York. No more arguments with himself. He was going to kiss him so that no one would think he was a loser, including Eric.

  When the hayride wagon made the turn at the start point, no one got on and no one got off. It was weird, the same route as ever but incredibly different. People were going to start kissing people if they weren't afraid to actually do it. Zander lost the calm he had found and felt messed up about everything, mostly York.

  He liked him. More than he knew when he was lying to himself. He couldn't let the ride end without a kiss. Maybe York would do it to him and he wouldn't have to be the one.

  York was staring off in the night, more or less. Anyway, he wasn't looking at Zander and he wasn't saying anything. Why can't stuff like this go better than it does? It gets too real when the colors light you up and your shoulder touches York a couple times a minute.

  The music was fine. Zander wasn't paying much attention until the song that Eric was playing was the blues. All of a sudden it was like Eric, too, was from Mississippi.

  But the message was clear, that the time had come. Zander looked over and sure enough, Eric was looking back.

  The tune would last a couple minutes, or you didn't need to wait for a late verse. Zander leaned over and kissed York on the cheek. It wasn't even a quick kiss. It was about the same speed as the hayride wagon, which almost took forever to get from point A to point B
.

  So there they were, Zander and York, located at point B. Neither one of them said anything. Zander was waiting for York to kiss him back.

  During the first minute after the kiss, there was no time to think about what had happened. You had to get ready for what might come next. When it didn't come, Zander could do a little thinking.

  He liked it. That was the thought. And he liked York.

  Now he was really scared that it was all going to blow up on him, but not that loser thing. He wasn't thinking about the other people on the ride any longer. It was all about York. And if York liked it, too.

  What would happen at the end of the ride? Would York just walk away?

  There was still plenty of ride left. They were a long ways from the outer turn. York had a lot of time to return the kiss. You get to do it if you want to. The other person has made it easy for you, so if you don't do it there aren't too many reasons why not.

  You probably don't like the other person.

  Zander was crushed. York never liked him. It was a game and now it was over.

  "Thanks for doing that," York said.

  "Oh. Okay."

  Everybody got down at the end of the ride. Most of them went for the dance floor. You could see them getting hot chocolate and stuff.

  Zander had run out of options. He just waited for York's next move.

  "Can you square-dance?" York said.

  "No."

  "I'll catch up with you in a while." York also went toward the floor.

  Zander took a folding chair near a pole that held up the canopy, and some kind of cooler was nearby but he didn't care about a drink hot or cold.

  He just sat there trying to calm down. He remembered what it was like to feel calm when you knew you were going to kiss someone and you were sure they were going to like it. Did York really say thanks? Is that what it all came down to?

  Someone he had forgotten all about came up to him. Eric blasted a couple notes on the harmonica before he spoke.

  "I should give you an award or something."

  "Hi, Eric."

  "I saw you do it."

  Zander's first thought was, what did Eric see him do? That was pretty dumb. It was obvious what Eric was talking about.

  "Oh," Zander said, "that."

  "When I played that song."

  Zander looked for another chair. Eric found one nearby. The calm was coming back. No matter how bad of a failure the ride had been, somebody was there to soften the blow.

  "You can really sing the blues," Zander said.

  "Man, you kissed him."

  It was time for the truth.

  "He didn't kiss me back. I like him and he hates my guts."

  Eric adjusted his hat. And then he stared somewhere.

  "Wait," he said, "is that what you think?"

  Something was off. As usual, this town was jerking Zander around.

  "He's not supposed to," Eric said.

  "What?"

  "It's one kiss per ride."

  Like one of those October snowstorms this town seemed to get, they were throwing one more stupid thing at you that made no sense and only made you feel like a total loser. Zander could only repeat himself.

  "What?"

  "That's right. That's how it's done."

  Zander just wanted to go home to his real home and forget that this stupid place ever happened to him, with all of its strange ways that left you broken in two at the side of some country road.

  "I wouldn't lie to you," Eric said.

  "Why can't you kiss them back?"

  "That's just the way it is." Eric got up. "I'm getting us some hot chocolate. You could use a drink."

  Did that mean they put stuff in it? You never knew what this place was going to do to you next. Maybe Zander was sitting in the wrong chair and suddenly it would be the biggest deal of the evening. Some guy is sitting in the wrong chair. Everybody is pointing and laughing and some are mad and some are foaming at the mouth. Sometimes you just want to go home.

  "I wasn't sure if you liked marshmallows." Eric offered a cup.

  "You know what? I don't get this place."

  "We never saw you before."

  Zander took a sip. "I like the marshmallows."

  "Me too."

  They drank for a while and watched some of the square dancing.

  "Go on the ride with him tomorrow," Eric said.

  "What for?"

  "He will kiss you."

  Zander shook his head. But he was hoping it was really true. There's only one kiss allowed per night. So it would be York's turn. How could Eric be so sure York wanted that?

  "Do you know him?" Zander said.

  "No."

  "Then how do you know?"

  "I was watching you guys."

  The hot chocolate was good. The dancing was fun to watch.

  "You know how to square-dance," Zander said, "don't you?"

  "Of course."

  Zander wasn't trying to get rid of him. It was just the opposite. He was afraid he would leave.

  "Nobody kisses you on the hayride," Zander said, "and you don't kiss them."

  "I'm busy with the harmonica."

  "Are you getting paid?"

  "No."

  Some people were coming in from the road.

  "Next ride," Eric said.

  "Are you on it?"

  "Bring your cup with you."

  For some reason, that sounded like a good idea. York was dancing up a storm. Zander liked watching him because he looked really good and you could just stare at him. But taking the hot chocolate with you on a ride was good, too.

  "What about York?" Zander said.

  "The dance goes on."

  Another thought occurred to Zander. "You aren't going to try and kiss me, are you?"

  "I'm too busy singing country songs."

  "And the blues?"

  "And the blues."

  They walked out toward the wagon, hot chocolate in hand, and Eric had the harmonica in his shirt pocket with the pearl button undone.

  That one hay bale must have been reserved for him, the singer's place. Zander took the bale where he and York had sat. It gave him a chance to think about things and to see things he hadn't seen when he was totally focused on York.

  You were never sure the ride had started but again it had. Eric signaled for Zander to come over. Zander raised his hot chocolate mug, like he would finish it and come over later. He really did want to think about York for a while. Then he would go over and sit down, maybe join in on the songs. He didn't think he could sing the blues but maybe some of the country stuff. If Eric would let him wear his hat, that would be so cool.

  This one boy on the ride had probably been on every ride Zander was aware of. Not that he was that aware. Maybe the boy wasn't there before. He was about like Eric, maybe another high school junior.

  That was a halfway logical guess, the way he was staring at Eric.

  You could pull that off in the dark and that's what the boy was doing. Yeah, it was hard to be sure but when Eric looked back, the boy looked away fast. And Eric was looking over there quite a bit.

  Eric also looked Zander's way and Zander gave him a thumbs-up every time. This was fun. The hot chocolate was still hot and went down easy in the October air. Another kind of warmth would be to wrap your arms around York for an entire ride if they would allow it. You knew they didn't. It was lucky you could bring hot chocolate on board or maybe you couldn't but Zander had slipped it past without even thinking about it.

  Eric's cup stood beside him on the hay bale. He got a sip every now and then.

  Zander wanted to know what was going on. That boy liked Eric. It was as plain as day. The big mystery was Eric himself. Did he like someone? Did he like that boy?

  It was somewhere past the outer turn when Zander went over and sat beside the harmonica player. He got his hat from him and put it on. It was part of the show and people seemed to like it.

  Zander wanted to tell him something and he didn'
t want to wait. He would whisper it to him during the song he was on, no matter if he could hear it or not.

  "That boy likes you."

  Eric switched from the lyrics to the harmonica. Sometimes he would close his eyes when he did that. If he heard what Zander said, he would know which boy it was. He needed to know. What if the boy was going to give up and never take the ride again?

  Zander went back to his own bale of hay. Eric sang the songs and the boy just sat there staring.

  Eric hadn't said that much about himself. He was going to, if Zander had any say in it.

  The wagon got back and everybody got off. Zander took him a few steps in the darkness.

  "Could you hear me out there?" Zander said.

  "I know."

  "You know it?"

  "He comes on every ride."

  They were holding their empty cups. Zander raised his like he was making a toast.

  "You haven't told me who you like," he said.

  Eric dipped his head until his face was lost behind the brim of his hat. But he came back up again. His eyes reflected all the colored lights, mostly the blue somehow.

  "I never told anybody that."

  "Okay."

  "I think I like someone." He dipped his hat again.

  Zander raised his cup again. "That's what I thought."

  York was still out on the dance floor, a great dancer. The boy that Eric liked was gone. The chairs from before were still set up in a conversation style.

  "According to you," Zander said, "York kisses me on the next ride."

  "He will."

  "Why don't you kiss that boy?"

  Eric didn't answer.

  Zander got up. "I'll be right back."

  He caught up with York on the dance floor. York drew him in, an arm around his neck.

  Zander thought York would kiss him. Why wait for the next ride?

  "I'm glad you're here," York said, and held him tighter.

  "Meet me here tomorrow."

  Zander didn't want to leave but he was going to kiss him if he didn't. It might blow everything. It probably isn't okay to kiss somebody on the dance floor but you can hold them around the neck like there was no tomorrow. Then they said goodbye.

  Zander didn't know what kind of goodbye it was. They had gone too far and so they could never see each other again? There was that kind of goodbye. And then there was the one he hoped for, that they would see each other for the first hayride of the evening and York would kiss him at the right time.