Page 34 of Love at Full Tilt
Hero’s Quest, Fableland
Orlando, FL
Hero’s Quest is home to some of Fableland’s most beloved rides.
Guests have been known to spend the entire day queuing up to experience the same attraction two, three, even four times.
Not that I can blame them. Who wouldn’t want to chase down bank robbers in the back of a horse-drawn wagon with Annie DoGood or be pursued across the sea by dastardly pirates alongside Oliver Cray?
Nowhere in the parks have I had more fun than my days at Hero’s Quest.
—A Fan’s Guide to Fableland
“Something spat on me!”
Issy swipes at the top of her head as we weave our way through the exit of the ride.
As soon as we left Elorra’s lab, Issy and I collected Tess from the funnel cake cart, and the three of us headed for the first ride on her itinerary, Prehistoric!
“I’m pretty sure it was one of those giant frogs,” I point out.
“Ew!” Issy starts wiping at her hair more frantically.
“Is, it was water.” Tess rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
“Be glad you didn’t get sprayed by the stink bug.” I shudder.
“That smell was just wrong, ” Tess declares.
Prehistoric! is one of Fable Industry’s most popular animated TV shows.
It follows a motley crew of kid-age dinosaurs on various adventures.
The ride is one of the newest attractions at Hero’s Quest, and combines state-of-the-art magnetic cars with 3D and 4D effects (hence the water and the smells) to take guests on their own harrowing escape from an erupting volcano.
There’s lots of spinning and sharp turns, and at one point, the floor literally opens up and you’re catapulted toward a lava river until Harry the pterodactyl swoops in to save you.
I don’t think any of us were prepared for how much yelling we were going to do on the ride.
My heart’s still pounding a little from that last drop.
“Again?” Tess asks, her eyes flashing with excitement.
Since I scanned my last clue for the day at Elorra’s lab, we decided to ride each attraction we pass at least twice, if not three times, thanks to our front-of-the-line passes.
It feels like making up for lost time, for all the years we’d wished we could come to Fableland, for all the nights we’d dreamed of screaming our way through Annie DoGood’s big carriage chase or crossing the vast ocean with Oliver and Elorra on the Fool’s Gambit .
My friends have that look on their faces again, that sparkle in their eyes that promises me they’re going to remember this week for the rest of their lives, just like I will.
“Okay, but after that, lunch,” Issy insists.
Her phone rings as we’re about to step back into the FOTL queue. I watch her brow furrow when she sees what’s on the screen and immediately accepts the call.
“Hi, Mrs.Baker.”
Shit. Tess and I exchange a look. “What time is it?” I ask her. I’d muted my phone and given it to her after we left the lab so I wouldn’t be so distracted by the leaderboard and Mason.
She glances at her screen. “Twelve-thirty.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I missed my noon check-in. And not just by a few minutes.
“Lia’s right here,” Issy says. Her dark-brown eyes pop open wide as she looks at me. “It’s our fault. We’ve been on so many rides we lost track of time. But she’s totally fine. We all are.”
I wave for her to give me the phone. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I repeat as I put it to my ear.
“Every four hours, Lia,” my mother says. The edge to her voice carves itself into my skin. “That’s what we agreed on.”
“And I’ve been good about it, right?” This is the first check-in I’ve missed since our conversation at Neptune’s Launch yesterday. I even have notifications set up on my phone. I just don’t have it.
“I should have heard from you half an hour ago.”
I blow a breath up at the sky. My skin is doing that thing again, where it feels too tight for my body.
And it seems impossible to get enough air into my lungs.
My eyes burn with the threat of tears. I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t go home, where there’s no escape from it.
Issy and Tess press in on either side of me like they’re columns holding me up.
There’s so much I want to say. So many ways I want to push back. But all I mutter is “I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. “I’ll be sure to check in at four.”
“I love you, honey,” my mom says before we say goodbye. I know she means it. But sometimes it doesn’t feel like love. It feels like pressure, pushing me down, compressing me until my bones snap loose from my skin.
I return Issy’s phone to her. “Let’s get lunch now,” she suggests. Tess and I agree, but none of us moves.
Instead, we stand there, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the moss-covered cave that houses the Prehistoric! ride. After another second of silence, Tess hands my phone to me. Like she knows I don’t want to ask for it. Like it’s the lock to my cell.
I tap the screen. Ten texts and three missed calls from my mother stack one on top of the other.
Below them are messages from Mason.
Mason
I am so sorry.
(11:31 AM)
I had to take my father to the ER.
(11:32 AM)
I was so freaked out that I left my phone at home.
(11:33 AM)
He’s okay but it took forever.
(11:35 AM)
I’m just getting to the park now. I’m glad you got the clues. It looks like I still have a little time to get mine
(11:37 AM)
Done. Thanks to your Sunspark obsession I rewatched it the other night. I don’t think I would have figured these out otherwise.
(12:40 PM)
I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but it’s not such a bad movie.
(12:42 PM)
Please don’t be mad at me.
(12:43 PM)
My heart thumps. His poor dad. And God, poor Mason. He must be so stressed out. I feel like a jerk for doubting him, even for a second. Of course he would never ditch me or try to cheat me out of the prize money. He was dealing with something real.
That thought has me rushing to check the leaderboard with shaking hands. Relief whooshes out of me when I see Mason has snuck in at number forty-eight. Two spots from elimination.
I show his texts to Tess and Issy.
“Why haven’t you answered him yet?” Issy asks.
“Put the poor guy out of his misery,” Tess adds with a grin.
“I will, I will,” I say. I’m growing more attached to Mason than I want to admit.
He’s always there, at the edge of my mind like a phantom.
But nothing about this contest, about Mason, has any guarantees.
It’s like I’m hanging off a cliff, clinging to multiple ropes that are all starting to sever at once.
I need something more solid to grasp.
Lia
I’m so sorry about your dad! I am so glad he’s okay. And that you got all your clues! Sorry for taking so long to answer, I had the sound off on my phone.
(12:55 PM)
Mason
I bet your mom loved that.
(12:57 PM)
Lia
She only sent like two hundred messages!
(12:59 PM)
I look over at my friends. “I really need to talk to him.”
They don’t ask me to explain. They just nod. “Take however long you need,” Tess says.
Lia
Do you have time to talk?
(1:01 PM)
Mason
Want to get out of the park for a bit?
(1:03 PM)
Lia
Okay.
(1:04 PM)
Mason
What are your thoughts about pancakes?
(1:05 PM)
Lia
There’s never enough of them on your plate.
(1:07 PM)
They are like little fluffy clouds from heaven that hug your tongue.
(1:08 PM)
I would eat them for every meal if that were an option.
(1:09 PM)
Mason
So what I’m hearing is that you wouldn’t object to grabbing some pancakes.
(1:11 PM)
Lia
There are no circumstances under which I would object to pancakes.
(1:12 PM)
“Mason!”
A woman’s voice breaks through the din of country music and sizzling meat that meets us on the threshold of the Breakfast Nook, the small café Mason drove us to after we left the park.
Her golden-blond hair is swept up on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s wearing jean cutoffs and a tank top with the restaurant’s name across the chest. Her expertly applied makeup hides the lines around her eyes and mouth, so I don’t notice them until she’s standing right in front of us.
But the way she smiles at Mason and gives his cheek a peck, it’s clear she’s my mother’s age.
She shifts her hazel eyes to me, and her smile widens. “Who’sthis?”
Mason’s hand squeezes mine. “Lia.” His mouth tips up in a smile.
Every part of me sings.
He looks at me and ticks his head toward the woman. “This is Nora.”
I can’t think of anything to say that fits in this totally comfortable space between them, so I just nod.
“I’m assuming you’re here to eat?” She’s already digging under the hostess podium for menus.
“When am I not here to eat?”
This makes Nora laugh. It’s a full-on witch’s cackle, and I think I love her. She’s like a preview of Tess in thirty years.
She leads us to a table for two by a corner window. The afternoon sun has turned the laminated wood of the tabletop toasty warm. After Mason and I sit, she places a menu in front of me. Only then do I realize she didn’t bring one for Mason.
She catches me noticing. “He has graduated well beyond the menu.” She absentmindedly pats his cheek as she says it.
If with everyone else Mason seems to curl in on himself or turn to stone, with Nora he blooms. His usually stormy eyes are the color of the daytime sky, and a smile hangs loosely on hislips.
I want to freeze this moment. Frame it.
“What can I get you to drink, sweetie?”
“Chocolate milk,” I say.
Mason’s eyebrows creep up his forehead.
“Chocolate milk is the perfect breakfast food companion. It offers a sweet contrast to the starchiness of eggs and hash browns while also complementing more dessert-like breakfast favorites like pancakes or waffles or French toast. Plus it’s chocolate. It will never do you wrong,” I declare.
“You’ve thought a lot about this.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t need to think a lot about it. It’s obvious.”
He laughs. “Fine. Give me one, too.”
Nora’s grin is big enough to crack her face. “No iced coffee?”