One rainy afternoon late in the semester, Raquel, Yali, and Martin met us outside school and waved us onto a bus that smelled like damp vinyl and warm diesel.
Classes had ended, but nobody seemed ready to leave. Inside, everyone sat in bunches along the hallway, hair and clothes still damp from the rain. Yali was practicing handstands against the wall.
When the clouds thinned and the light sharpened, she leaned toward the door.
“We should go now.”
She apologized as she said it, leaning close so she wouldn’t have to shout over the engine. Her park, she warned, “wouldn’t be fun to Americans.”
We followed her out, pulling shirts over our heads and holding bags above us as we ran for the bus.
Sean and Cory took the back. Kate claimed a window seat. Jose stood in the aisle, laughing whenever the driver dropped a wheel into a pothole.
~
We got off near a faded entrance sign. Sun-bleached posters hung inside the ticket windows.
I fished for change while everyone crowded behind me.
Inside, the rides were small. We took turns on a spinning ride, then climbed the wavy slides. Our shorts stuck to the plastic before releasing in sudden skids. Kate bought ice cream from a freezer chest and offered to share.
Then the rain started.
Umbrellas appeared from bags. People moved beneath the awnings and covered walkways. We joined them.
Raquel looked up and smiled.
A moment later, it hammered the metal roofs. Conversation disappeared beneath the noise. Water poured across the walkways, turning them into shining lanes. Everyone headed for the nearest cover.
We squeezed beneath an awning with strangers. Wet cotton and sunscreen. Raquel stood beside me, her shoulders raised.
“You want to wait?” she asked.
We waited.
Half an hour later, the rain hadn’t let up. Martin said we should go.
We ran for the bus in one clumsy burst, laughing and swearing.
~
Back inside the bus, Sean raised his arms, his shirt clinging to his chest. Jose took off his shoes. Yali’s wet hair dripped onto the vinyl seat.
The windows fogged. Martin drew a smiley face.
Outside, the wipers sawed back and forth, smearing the streetlights across the glass.