Joyland Ch. 1

The legend of Stanley Kouchet was not important to anyone over the age of fifteen. Stephanie didn’t really even know if he could be considered a legend, being that he was only two years older than she was and was only really known for spending every waking hour at the only amusement park within city limits. Joyland itself was the real legend. Being the smallest, oldest park in the state of Kansas warranted more than a handful of rumors, ranging from that of the ghost of a priest who’d fallen tragically from the rickety roller-coaster to a tale of a grounds keeper who’d been beheaded by a ghoul in the famed Whacky Shack. It bragged a static set of patrons which included only naïve tourists, bubbly preteens, stoner adolescents, and annoyed father/daughter pairs.
         The morning Stephanie Dillerjohn stepped through the tall iron gates of the amusement part, sporting the oversized red polo that was the uniform of all Joyland employees, the legendary Stanley Kouchet was far from her mind. She was far more concerned about how she was going to survive the summer. The smells alone were overwhelming, running rampant through her nostrils like children without Ritalin. Rotting wood, water with too much chlorine, then the specific stale smell of a heart attack as she crossed through the corndog and funnel cake haven that was the food court.
         Because there was a full half-hour before the park opened its gates to patrons, Steph had a chance to see the park at its finest for the first time. There were no chain-smoking, sticky baby-clinging moms, no gothic couples, no giggling, acne ridden twelve year old girls. It was actually quite beautiful. Silent, but for the whine of the Ferris wheel as it groaned to life for the morning test. 
         Her eyes squinted against the sunlight as she saw a figure move in the top car of the ride. She shielded her sight with her hand, trying to protect her corneas as she walked toward the figure to get a better look.
         “Where are you going?” someone asked behind her. A boy. She wheeled around. He was about her age, sporting shaggy, sandy blonde hair, average blue eyes, and the beginnings of a “real” man’s goatee. His smile was charming, one she could not help but return.
         “I was,” she paused stupidly. “Looking. At the Ferris wheel. There’s someone up there.”
         “That’s just Stanley,” he said simply, shrugging her curiosity from his narrow shoulders. “He’s always here.”
         “Oh,” she said, looking back up at the car.
         “So are you the new recruit?” the boy asked, sounding somewhat hopeful as he tried to recapture her attention.
         “Yeah, I start today.”
         “Food court?”
         “No, uhh…arcade.”
         “Oh,” he said, his relatively attractive face falling only slightly beneath his smile. “My name’s Lucas, by the way. I work over there.” He gestured towards the food court.
         “Stephanie,” she replied, shaking his hand.
         She followed him then to the worker’s lodge, eager to put her bag away and begin her day. The sooner she had a chance to speak to the other park employees, the sooner she could learn more about the stranger on the Ferris wheel.
         Though it was Saturday, Steph was surprised at how many people showed up to play skeeball, eat sickly sweet, powdered sugar-covered confections, and ride the ancient deathtrap of a wooden rollercoaster. To and fro, she rushed, handing out gigantic stuffed dogs to overly flirtatious pubescent boys who for the life of them could not figure out the complicated machinery of the change dispenser. She had very little time to think about Stanley Kouchet, even during her thirty minute lunch break. When she wasn’t busy assisting ironically bitchy patrons, Emily, the other arcade worker, chattered happily in her ear.
         “Who’s the kid who works the Ferris wheel?” Stephanie asked during one of the rare moments Emily paused to breathe.
         “That’s Roman,” the girl replied, popping her gum. “He’s cute, but you shouldn’t bother. He only really talks to Stanley; I don’t think he knows any English other than ’keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times.’” Emily sighed.  Stephanie noticed that she quite often alternated between sighing and popping her gum in the rare moments between words. She was a plump girl, blonde like Luke and pretty. Though her wistful sighs and incessant popping would be obnoxious with anyone else, coming from her they were somewhat endearing.
         “What about Stanley?” Stephanie asked, and for some reason felt her heart transform into a sparkler when the name escaped her lips. She remembered that when she was little, she and her sister would wait anxiously until dark on the fourth of July and then write, with fervor, their names against the dark. It seemed back then that no matter how fast they moved the sparkling wands, the letters faded too fast.
         That was how her abdomen felt as she thought of him. He was a new obsession, fresh but fleeting. She slid her hand over her stomach as the sparkler inside of her lit up the darkness of her belly, burning it with its evanescent sparks before fading away.
         “What about him?” Luke’s voice floated from behind her. The patrons of the park were slowly beginning to disappear. She saw Emily roll her eyes in distaste.
         “Stanley’s always here. Nobody really knows how he gets in, but the owner’s totally cool with it,” said Emily.
         “Is he always on the Ferris wheel?”
         Lucas put his arm around Stephanie’s shoulder as he passed her by. She watched him straddle the stool of the shoot-out booth, using the faded pink plastic gun to feign shooting at Emily.
         “No,” Emily said, speaking loudly above the boy’s faux gun noises. “When it’s not busy, he walks around. I’ve talked to him once or twice.”
         “Hey, why are you so interested in him, anyway?” Luke asked, his voice was almost accusing.
         She mumbled a response, paying no attention to either of them as her mind wandered. Somewhere behind her she heard the two of them bickering--the perfect clearance for her escape.
         “I’m going to try to talk to Roman,” she slurred absentmindedly, quickly stepping towards the Ferris wheel. Perhaps her obsession could be largely attributed to the fact that the entire city of Wichita, Kansas and its residents were as ordinary and friendly as Emily and Lucas were. She wondered why Stanley performed such a task as spending so much time in the nearly-Joyless Joyland. She wondered if he was nice, if he was young or old, if he was homeless or just eccentric enough to leave home in the earliest hours of the morning.
         Talking to Roman turned out to be exactly as Emily had described it. The English he muttered was nervous a terrified, hiding beneath his breath like a child under a blanket. His face was a shade of crimson that deepened with each moment she tried, in vain, to introduce herself to him. She began to feel bad--not only because of his obvious embarrassment, but because she was becoming angry with him. Selfishly, the frustration was a snake in coil within her chest. It wanted to snap at him, to poison him because of the futility of the situation.
         It was then that she saw him. She was about to tell Roman that it was nice to meet him. She was about to walk away disappointed. She was slowly preparing herself for that feeling.
         But then she saw him.
         Stephanie could not pinpoint exactly what it was about the boy sitting alone on the Ferris wheel car directly in front of her that told her he was Stanley Kouchet. He had on large aviator sunglasses beneath a dirty brown fedora. His long, chestnut hair was down and curled across his broad, tanned shoulders. He smiled at her.
         “Do you want a ride?” he asked.
         At first it didn’t register to her that he was asking her a question. He was different looking, though she could not really identify any specific unique or outstanding trait. He had full lips and a melodic, lilting voice. She supposed he was a little older than she was, though not by much.
         “Oh, ummm…” she replied stupidly, her face growing hot. Yes, she wanted to join the legendary Kouchet in his almost constant pursuit of the heavens. Yes, she wanted to know every single thing about him. But something stopped her. “I have to get back to work,” she stammered, glad to have at least the semblance of a valid excuse. He smiled at her politely and said something to Roman in flawless Spanish, twirling his finger expressively. Her eyes lingered on that finger before she mumbled a swift, awkward goodbye and turned back to the arcade.
         The rest of her shift passed quickly. When her mind wasn’t racing through the ultra-brief conversation she’d had with her new obsession, she was trying to avoid Emily’s line of questioning. By the time the clock struck seven, she was torn between the regret she felt for not taking the opportunity to sate her interest, and the part of her that was terrified to find out that he was as ordinary as she was.