What could she say? Ninth times the charm. Maybe she could ride the tea cups this year without vomiting. She hadn’t eaten as many churros as last year’s Winston County Fair and she was older this year, more mature. She could handle it. She was steps away from the line to the teacups but she was suddenly blocked by two red stilettos paired with faded blue jeans. Her mother stood in front of her. Most people say she looked exactly like her mother and either she didn't see it or she didn't want to see it. Most of the time she didn't even want to be associated with her mother. Her mother wore too much makeup, too small tops, and too tall high heels for a woman of her age. Her mother always claimed that she had only been smoking for five years but she had the voice of one who has been smoking since her teenage years. Which she had. This tragic ensemble stood blocking the view of the colorful, beautiful  teacups.
“Penelope,” her mother grew agitated.
Again, what could she say?  “Mother, I love the teacups ride, I love the churros, I love the Winston County Fair. I just happen to throw up every year. Its a flaw we both have to live with.” Penelope pushed the black rimmed glasses back up her nose and breathed out an asthmatic breath of frustrated air. One thinly plucked eyebrow rose and Penelope knew she was pushing her limits. Her mother shifted her weight to one hip creating a hole between her and the other citizens just big enough for Penelope to see her beloved teacups. This was her chance and she took it. Penelope dashed away from her mother and got in line. Fortunately a line of people filed in behind her preventing her mother from pulling her out.
"Penelope!" her mother squealed louder than the pigs at the petting zoo.
"I am sorry Mother I cannot hear you" Penelope was next to go onto the teacups.
“Ticket please”
“Penelope! Get Back Here”
“Here you go sir”
“Please go to the next available cup”
“Thank you”
“Penelope!”
Penelope stole a glance behind her as she clambered into the pastel orange teacup. Her mother stood at the edge of the line, both manicured sets of nails tapped consecutively on her hips, her lips pressed in a thin line. Penelope looked forward ignoring her mother and realized a boy sat in front of her. His nose was peculiar and his eyebrows bizarre. He wore black rimmed glasses almost identical  to hers and the same shade of auburn hair but hers was stick straight and his was curly and unruly. Exotic was her first thought of him. Striking was his first thought of her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you” he spoke with a deep, masculine voice.
“Oh no worries.”
“Are you Penelope?”
“Yes I am, how would you know?” Penelope looked down to see if her name tag was still on her blue dress from her shift at the diner.
“I am assuming that that lady is your mother who keeps calling ‘Penelope’ at you.” he said pointing his index finger at her mother.
“Well you are right. I am Penelope. But you are wrong in your assumption that that is my mother”
“Well who is she then?”
“Someone I try not to associate with.”
“Interesting.”
“I suppose. And who are you?"
"Ah I'm Patrick Dafith."
"The fifth Patrick? That's a lot of Patricks."
"No Dafith."
"I said fifth didn't I?"
"No it's Dafith as in D A F... nevermind."
The ride began to spin and Patrick grabbed hold of the metal wheel and began to turn. They spun and spun and spun. Her hair trailed behind her and began to tangle at the end and she brushed it up into a ponytail. Penelope looked around at the spinning county fair and burped. She swallowed hard to try to keep the vomit down, she had taken a liking to Patrick and didn't want to throw up on him. Looking down she tried to avoid the spinning but Patrick's freckled hands moved faster and faster and their orange cup spinned faster than any of the other cups. Burp. Round and round and round. The lights blurred into single streaks contrasting with the dark night. Burp. Penelope threw her hand to her mouth and swallowed a second time. Breathe in through your nose out through your mouth. She tried. She tried ever so hard to keep it down but when she breathed through her mouth she just couldn't keep it in any longer and she burped again and she felt the sting of vomit reach her throat and it just came out and it ruined her pale blue dress, how was she going to explain that to her boss, and it ruined Patrick's white Converse's and it gathered in a small puddle at their feet and Patrick stopped spinning. The ride stopped and everyone got off but Penelope. She sunk her head into her knees and swallowed hard.

"Miss?"
Penelope looked up at the attendant working the ride and gave a small smile. "I'm really sorry. I tried really hard not to"
"It's okay, this kind of thing happens all the time. Of course it's not usually on the teacups but that's okay," the attendant helped her out of the teacup and down the steps. She was expecting her mother to be standing there but Patrick surprised her and was waiting for her and the bottom of the steps with paper towels and a bottle of water. He stood barefoot and Penelope saw his pair of shoes sitting precariously atop the pile of trash protruding from the trash can. She looked around for her mother and saw her nowhere.
“Here why don’t we get you cleaned up?” Patrick led her over to the bathrooms and pulled her into the men's room. Several younger boys squealed at the sight of a girl in the men's bathroom and within seconds the room was cleared. Patrick wet the paper towels and cleared the vomit from the skirt of her dress. Penelope drank from the water bottle while Patrick slaved over her skirt and stared at herself in the mirror. She was wearing makeup left over from her shift at the diner, it was beginning to smudge around her eyes making her look like a drunken panda.
“Have you ever seen a drunken panda?” she asked Patrick.
“Unfortunately I have not. Have you?”
“Yes I have. I’m surprised you haven’t. One just walked into the bathroom.” Patrick trailed his eyes up to Penelope’s face which was paper white. Her eyes were fixed onto her reflection in the mirror, she seemed hypnotized.
“Oh really? Did he say hello?”
“No, she just walked in and waved and left.” Penelope peeled her eyes from the mirror and pointedly looked at Patrick
Patrick rose up to look Penelope in the eyes. He threw the wet paper in the trash can behind her and then used his thumb to wipe her smeared makeup from underneath her eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because, you seem like a drunken panda in need of a sober panda”
“Oh. What are we going to be doing next?”
“Whatever you want to do little panda.”
“I want to ride the teacups again.”