mechanical summer

The carnival lights blurred against the sticky August night as I clutched the crumpled **hat** in my sweaty **palm**. Maya stood beside me, her fingers tapping against her phone like she was mentally composing a text that definitely wasn't to me.

"You gonna do it or what?" she asked, not looking up.

The mechanical **bull** loomed ahead, its vinyl hide gleaming under the neon. This wasn't even supposed to be my idea—it was Maya's, back when we were the kind of **friend** duo who finished each other's sentences and shared secrets like breath. Now she seemed miles away, even when she was standing right next to me.

I'd been **running** from this conversation for weeks, from the way she'd started hanging with the track team crowd, from the way she looked at me like I was some childhood toy she'd outgrown. The bull operator stared at me with bored eyes, probably thinking I was just another suburban kid trying to prove something.

"Three bucks," he said. "Three seconds and you win back your dignity."

Maya finally looked up. "If you ride it, I'll tell you what's been up with me lately."

That was the thing about our friendship—one of us was always betting, always pushing. I slapped my money down and climbed onto the bull, gripping the reins with determination.

The machine started easy, then bucked violent. I held on, my entire world reduced to staying mounted. Then it happened—a massive twist that sent me flying, but not before I heard Maya scream my actual name for the first time in months.

I landed in the sawdust, breathless but laughing. Maya was laughing too, really laughing, not that fake polite thing she'd been doing lately. She extended her hand to help me up.

"You stayed on longer than anyone tonight," she said, grinning. "Even the track guys."

I dusted myself off and held out Maya's hat that I'd somehow kept grip of through the fall. "So? About what's been up with you?"

"Running," she said simply. "Trying to figure out how to tell you I'm scared we're growing apart, so I started pulling away first."

The carnival music swelled around us, but for once, the distance between us didn't feel like miles anymore. "Let's walk," I said. "And you can tell me everything."

Under the swaying palm trees and carnival lights, we started running—not away from each other, but toward whatever came next.