The moment the wagon met the water that reached halfway up, I knew why the fountains we had seen before had been drained.
The water hadn't looked as murky as it smelled when it splashed on us.
It wasn't comparable to a Torso Hill, though—it wouldn't even make it on the scale.
I was still holding onto Henry when the wagon drove out of the water through the momentum we gained by driving down and made it to the bumper at the end of this waterslide.
And I still held onto him when we came to a halt with a platform on the right that would lead to a few steps down from the attraction.
"Smells interesting," I said, while burrowing my nose in his hoodie, covering his neck.
"Mhm." Henry held still, letting me squeeze him however I wanted—maybe because his back was turned to me and he didn't have to hold me himself.
Something was wrong with his hands—obviously—but they seemed especially stiff under the gloves, and he was probably hurting.
