The Funhouse

merry-go-round a couple of minutes later, he went looking for his sister. He knew she would enjoy hearing how he had fooled Mama. She would think he was clever and brave for coming all the way to the fairgrounds on his own. He valued Amy's approval more than anything else, and he was eager to hear what she would say when she saw him here all by himself.

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    14
        
        The comfort station was brightly lighted. It smelled of damp concrete, mildew, and stale urine. The sinks were stained by years of dripping, mineral-rich water.
        After Amy and Liz washed their hands, as they were leaning toward the mirrors, fixing their makeup, two older women left the restroom, and the girls were alone.
        “You feeling high?” Liz asked.
        “Yes.”
        “Me too. All the way up. I'm fuckin' wired, for sure. Are you just high, or are you really wired?”
        “I'm totally wasted,” Amy said, squinting into the mirror, applying lipstick with a shaky hand.
        “Good,” Liz said. “I'm glad you're really wrecked. Maybe you'll finally loosen up.”
        “I'm loose as a goose,” Amy said.
        “Great,” Liz said. “Then I won't have to sell you on it.”
        “Sell me on what?”
        The orgy,” Liz said.
        Amy looked at her, and Liz grinned almost drunkenly, and Amy said, “Orgy?”
        “I've already sold the idea to those two pussy-hounds out there,” Liz said.
        “Buzz and Richie?”
        “They're both game.”
        “You mean… the four of us in one bed?”
        “Sure,” Liz said, putting away her own lipstick, snapping her purse shut. “It'll be fan -tastic!”
        “Oh, Liz, I don't know about that. I don't-”
        “Let it slide, kid.”
        “I've got college and-”
        “You've got the pill. You won't get knocked up again. Don't be so damned prim. Go with the flow, kid. Be what you are. Stop pretending you're Sister Purity.”
        “I couldn't-”
        “Of course you could,” Liz said. “You will . You want it. You're just like me. Face facts and enjoy yourself.”
        Amy put one hand on the sink to steady herself. It wasn't just the dope that made her feel woozy. She was dizzied by the prospect of just letting go, being like Liz, forgetting about the future, living just for the moment, incapable of guilt or remorse. It must be nice to live that way. It must be so relaxing, so free .
        Liz moved close to her and said, “My place. As soon as we leave the fairgrounds. The four of us. My parents have a king-size bed. Think of it, honey. You can have both those guys at the same time. They're both dying to slip the old salami to you. It'll be great. You'll have a ball. I know you will because I'll have a ball, and you're just like me.”
        Liz's melodic, rhythmic voice was draining all the energy and all the will out of Amy. Amy leaned against the sink and closed her eyes and felt that warm, seductive voice pulling her down, down into a place she wasn't sure she wanted to go.
        Then Amy felt a hand on her breast. She opened her eyes with a start.
        Liz was touching her intimately, smiling.
        Amy wanted to push the other girl's lewd hand away, but she couldn't find sufficient strength to present Liz with even that small token of resistance.
        “I've always wondered what it would be like, you and me, just us two girls,” Liz said.
        “You're wasted,” Amy said. “You're so high you don't know what you're saying.”
        “I know exactly what I'm saying, kid. I've always wondered… and tonight I can find out. We can make some real memories, kid.” She leaned close, kissed Amy lightly on the mouth, tongue flicking like the quick tongue of a snake, and then she left the restroom, twitching her bottom as she went.
        Amy felt dirty, but she also experienced a tremor of pleasure that oscillated through every inch of her.
        She looked in the mirror again, squinting because the bright fluorescent lights stung her bleary eyes. Her face looked soft, as if it were melting off her bones. Searching once more for that wickedness that others could see in her, she stared into her own eyes. All of Amy's life, her mother had told her that she was filled with a terrible evil that must be repressed at all costs. After years and years of listening to that hateful line, Amy didn't like herself very much. Her self-respect had been whittled down to a fragile stick, Mama had