Grand Prize

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Allen looked mournfully at the crowd. Everyone seemed to have someone; parents with children, teens with their significant others, college students in packs.

Then there was Allen. Who for some reason had decided to come to the State Fair even though he had no friends to accompany him.

Eyes lingering on another couple with their arms around each other's waists, Allen picked his way carefully over the thick black cables so he didn't spill his over-priced soda and waited in the short yet painfully slow line for the ticket booth. He sighed as he advanced one more slot in line. He probably shouldn't bother, but he'd gotten a digital camera for his birthday, and he really wanted a picture of the lake next to the fairgrounds from the top of the Farris Wheel. That was all he wanted out of the day now.

Just five over-priced tickets to ride the one ride, and then he could go home, pretend he had friends that he just wasn't hanging out with at the moment and play computer games until his eyes started to burn.

Taking a sip of soda and resolving to be less pessimistic about life, Allen bought his tickets, winced at the price and made his way to the Farris Wheel line. Unlike the ticket line it was long, moving in fits and bursts as people were seated in the carts, and then the wheel went around and around…

Allen glanced at his watch and then at the sky. It'll probably be too dark by the time I get up there anyway, he thought, even though he knew it wasn't true.

Someone giggled ahead of him in the line, and Allen glared at the girl, her hands clasped around a giant soda with two straws, her boyfriend's arms securely around her waist as he whispered something in her ear and she giggled again. Allen rolled his eyes heavenward. Let my wait be short, he thought.

Then the line was moving again. In little fits, groups were seated in carts, carts edged along to the next spot, and more people ushered to a seat.

Finally, finally, the carnie turned to look at Allen. He gave a harried look and half-asked the question 'how many?'

Allen, knowing the question even if he hadn't heard it, raised a single finger so he didn't have to shout over the crowd.

The carnie gave him an exasperated look. "Jus' one?" he asked.

Allen nodded.

"Stand here," the carnie said, pulling Allen aside without touching him.

Allen sighed, figured it was just his lot in life and scuffed at the dirt with the tip of his shoe. A few cars later and the carnie shouted "Oi!" to get Allen's attention.

He was waved into a cart with a stranger that Allen didn't look at for longer than it took to determine that the guy was his age, but unknown to Allen.

"Craig," the other guy said.

Allen looked up, startled that the guy would actually talk to him. "Allen," he said when the social part of his brain reminded him he needed to respond. He gave a weak smile.

"You afraid of heights or somethin'?" the guy—Craig—asked.

Allen shook his head. "No," he said, and left it at that. I'm just here to take a picture, not to make friends, Allen reminded himself.

They sat in an awkward silence, each pretending they were alone in the car as Allen pulled out his camera and fiddled with the settings, and the Farris Wheel slowly—oh so slowly—began to move.

Figuring he might as well make use of the huge memory disk that his mother had gotten him to go along with the camera, Allen began snapping photos as they ascended, setting his soda on the seat so he had both hands free. When they reached the apex of the ride, Allen smiled at the view. "Oh wow," he said.

"What?" asked the other guy in the basket, shifting forwards to see whatever it was Allen was seeing.

The car shifted with his movement, swinging off balance with two people on one side.

Allen gasped and grabbed at the railing—careful not to damage his camera.

"Sorry, dude," Craig said, shifting back to his own side of the basket. That made the car swing slightly more, and Allen could only watch in horror as his soda slipped off the cart, spilled sticky liquid all over the floor, and then the cup rolled out under the half-door they had entered through.

"My soda!" Allen cried, reaching out with one hand, though it was clearly long-gone. He glared at his fellow Farris Wheel passenger.

Craig shrugged, though he looked rather guilty. "I'll buy you a new one?" he offered.

Allen sighed and ran the hand not holding his camera through his hair. "It's okay," he said.

"No, really, dude," Craig said. "I know how much those cost; let me buy you a new one."

Allen shook his head. "Whatever," he said, turning back to the scenery that was once again laid out below them.

"I'm serious, dude," Craig insisted. "It was my fault the soda fell; I'll buy you a new one." He shifted forward and reached a hand out towards Allen.

Allen cringed and grabbed for the railing again. He may not be afraid of heights, but he was afraid of falling from one. "Okay!" he snapped, not wanting the car to rock anymore. "Okay, you can buy me another soda."

"Really?" Craig asked, settling back into his seat. "Sweet!"

Allen rolled his eyes. The man sounded like he'd just won the grand prize.

Eventually, the ride ended. Allen slipped out of the car, and stumbled through the crowd, hoping he could escape before Craig remembered his offer of a new soda.

No such luck.

"Dude!" Craig called, appearing from behind him. "Don't run off, I gotta buy you a soda first."

Allen sighed and gave another weak smile. "Oh yeah, I'd nearly forgotten." He glanced around and pointed at the nearest food cart. "You can buy one there," he said.

Craig looked where he was pointing. "Nah," he said. "If I'm buying you a soda, it's gotta be from the Root Beer Barrel." He grabbed Allen's arm and started pulling him through the crowd.

What are you, six? Allen wondered, but didn't say, allowing himself to be towed.

They slowed down as they passed one of the fair games; the one where you try to push prizes out with coins. Allen rolled his eyes when he saw that they had slowed only because Craig was slipping his fingers into the corners of the slots at every empty machine.

Suddenly Craig crowed, "Coins!" and dropped Allen's arm.

Allen rolled his eyes yet again and folded his arms. "I thought you were buying me a soda?" he said as Craig lined up his first shot. Really Allen should just wander off, but this was slightly less boring than playing his favorite computer game.

Craig looked away from the machine. "Have you never played this before?" he asked.

Allen shook his head, and Craig stuffed a token into his hand.

"This one looks good," he said, tapping the glass front of the machine next to him.

Allen sighed, but stepped up to the machine, lined up the shooter and let his token slide down to land on the conveyer belt. The sweeper pushed it forward, and knocked two coins off the front. This is pretty fun, Allen thought as he put his two new coins in. His first coin got him nothing, but the second…

Ten minutes later Craig had to physically drag him away, his hand warm on Allen's arm. "Let's see about that soda," he muttered. He let his hand loosen as they walked, and it slid down Allen's arm until their fingers tangled together.

Allen glanced at their now-joined hands. What? He wondered, too stunned to pull away.

Craig's grip tightened, and then he let Allen go entirely as he pointed out the Root Beer Barrel. "There," he said, walking the remaining distance. Allen followed, his hand still warm and confused.

A few minutes later his hand was cold; chilled by the ice in his cup. He'd half-expected Craig to vanish after buying the promised soda, but instead Craig bought himself a soda as well, and then started following Allen around like a lost puppy.

"Dude," Craig said. "Let's go in the fun house."

Allen shook his head. "I don't have any more tickets," he said.

"Oh," Craig deflated a little. "Wanna go look at the animals? You can take pictures of them with that fancy camera." He nodded at Allen's camera bag.

"I already did," Allen said. And he had; he'd gone there first. The llamas had been dressed in costumes, but the sheep had all looked a bit the same.

"Oh," Craig said, disappointed again and falling a bit behind. "Hey!" he said suddenly, rushing the few steps to catch back up. "How about I win you a fish?" he said, tugging on Allen's arm.

Allen paused and glanced at the booth with all the fish bowls. He bit his lip, glanced down at the hand on his arm, and then back at the booth. "Fine," he said.

Craig whooped and ran over to purchase some ping-pong balls.

They didn't win a fish. Allen was silently grateful, and Craig didn't sound all that disappointed as he followed Allen around, chatting animatedly. They played a few more rigged games and won a tiny stuffed fish, which Craig declared to be Allen's, even though it had been Craig's aim that won it.

Allen was thrilled, but also very confused. What was Craig doing? Didn't he have friends of his own? And did he mean anything by this near-constant holding of hands?

Because Craig was definitely holding Allen's hand again.

He was stroking Allen's with his thumb, too.

And Allen was letting him.

"Hey Craig!" someone suddenly called from across the game aisle.

Craig and Allen both looked over to see a group of teens redirect their route to meet up with the two of them.

"Finally found a new boyfriend?" someone asked, glancing down at their hands.

Allen could feel himself blushing, and tried to pull his hand away.

Craig tightened his hold, but Allen thought it might have been an instinctive reaction rather than an intentional one, as he let go a moment later.

"Guys, this is Allen," Craig said. He introduced his friends, though Allen didn't catch any of the names.

"Nice to meet you Allen," said the first one who had spoken—Gary?

Allen smiled at him, "same," he said.

Gary laughed. "And here we all thought Craig would come moping back to us the moment he got off the Farris Wheel."

"Moping…back…" Allen echoed, glancing at all the people who surrounded him now.

Craig was smiling sheepishly and shuffling his feet. "I saw you at in the line, and I—"

"--Volunteered to ride with you!" someone else called. The small crowd laughed, though it was friendly laughter.

Craig blushed. "Y-yeah," he stammered. "I hope you don't mind." He glanced up hopefully.

Flattered and thrilled, though he wasn't quite sure if he should be, Allen reached out and took Craig's hand. "I don't mind," he said, smiling a huge, if slightly shy, smile.

"Really?" Craig asked, looking down at their hands. "And you're-"

Allen nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I am." Like I would have put up with the hand-holding if I wasn't? Allen wondered.

Craig whooped, and jumped across the small space between them to grab Allen in a giant hug.

Allen smiled as Craig's friends whooped and patted him on the back. Maybe now he had someone, too.

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