“Yeah,” I say, clicking through the pages of results in front of me.
Dad steps closer to my laptop and squints. I wonder where his glasses are. I wonder if he lost them again.
“What are you working on, sweetie?” I still love it when he calls me that. It’s like a concentrated dose of love shot straight into my brain.
I sigh. No use trying to hide. “I was looking for ideas to save the park.”
“The park?” He rubs the back of his neck and frowns. “The amusement park? Elouise, honey, you have to let it go. That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because Will Prendergast doesn’t want it to,” he says—gentle, gentle, gentle—like the words might break coming out of his mouth. Or like they might break me.
“I don’t care.” Maybe I sound like a child to him, maybe he still thinks I am one, but I’m not. I’m a woman. I’m fierce, and I’m strong, and I can save this park if—
Dad sighs. “Please let this go.”
“The town needs this park.”
“The businesses that this could bring in would do more for this town than that little park ever could. This is a good thing, hon, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.”
“It’s not a good thing. Stop saying that.” I drop my pen down on my desk. “This is our park. It’s mine, and yours, and it used to be Mom’s too. I don’t care about whatever crappy, boring businesses want to tear it down. I can’t believe you’re willing to let it close like it doesn’t even matter.”
“Elouise—”
The tears well up now, kicking my anger up ten notches to an unmanageable level. “So you’re just going to let Mr. P walk away from everything? Really?” I slam my notebook shut. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. That’s kind of your MO anyway, isn’t it? Look at what happened with Mom, I mean—”
“That’s not fair, Elouise. Your mother left us. I didn’t—”
“Like I said, nothing ever sticks in this family!” I stomp over to my bed and rip her postcards out from under the mattress, flinging them in his direction. “Look at these. These are all I get because the two of you couldn’t figure it out. I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re telling me not to fight for the park—you wouldn’t even fight to keep our family together.”
His face gets all pinched and crumpled as he bends down to scoop them up, and all the fight drains out of me. Here is my dad, the man who has been there for me since day one, hunched over and picking up the scraps my mother left behind. The scraps that I threw in his face like little paper swords for him to impale himself on. Shit.
My heart swells up into my throat and I feel like if I really cry now I’ll never ever stop. “Dad, I didn’t mean—”
He waves me off, standing up with the last of the postcards in his hand. His eyes look a little bit glassy, and his jaw is clenched so tight I can see it even from across the room.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I mumble. “It just came out. I know it’s not true. I know you didn’t—”
He gives me a sad smile. “It’s okay.”
“I have to go meet Seeley,” I say, because it’s the one thing I know he’ll believe without question, the one place he’ll always let me run off to. And I need to run right now, I do, because if I have to spend one more second looking at my dad like this, I’m going to break into a million tiny pieces.
“Elouise,” he calls as I run down the stairs and out the front door. But if he says anything else, I don’t hear it over the din of the car engine screeching to life.
* * *
• • •
I don’t know where I’m going until I get there, pulling into the empty lot and throwing the car into park beneath the shadow of what I used to think was the biggest roller coaster in the world. It’s not, of course it isn’t, but when you’re little and it’s big, and you’ve never left this tiny town, that roller coaster feels like the whole world. Like an achievement. Like something sure and steady and so much bigger than all of us.
People might come and go, but giant roller coasters are forever. Or at least they’re supposed to be. Tears well up in my eyes as I stare at the rickety ride looming above me, all peeling paint and rusted tracks. When did it get so old? Was it always like this?
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here when suddenly my passenger side door opens. I jump, hitting my head on the roof of my car as a body slides in beside me. I claw for my pepper spray in a panic, and oh god, oh god, is this how I die?
“Hey.” Seeley reaches for my hand and pushes it away, grabbing the spray from my cup holder before I regain my senses. “It’s just me.”
“How?”
“Your dad called to make sure you made it over okay. He said you were upset.”
“Shit.” I drop my head back against the seat, wishing it hurt more. I can’t believe what I said to him tonight.
Seeley grabs my chin, turning my face toward hers with a smile. “Relax, I told my mom you texted me to meet you at the diner instead of our house. She let me take her car and everything since she was so worried.” She lets go of my face, nudging my wrist with her hand. “I was worried too.”
“How’d you find me?”
She drops her arm and rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Lou? I think I know you pretty well. You weren’t that hard to find.”
“But I was a little bit hard to find?” I shouldn’t care, but I do. I don’t want to be that predictable.
“Oh my god, Elouise, yes, fine, you were a little bit hard to find. I had to go to two whole spots to find you.”
“The lake?” I ask.
“The lake.”
I look up at the roller coaster again. It kind of feels like I’m on it right now, like I’m at the very top about to fall. “Everything is so screwed up.” I go back to looking out the window, afraid of what will come out if I keep talking.
She cranks up the air-conditioning full blast and reclines her seat all the way back. “Yeah, it’s a mess. I don’t want to say I told you so, but—”
I glance over at her, and my eyes catch on the way her hair kind of curls up into little flips around one side of her chin, frizzy from the humidity and still damp from a shower. She’s not even wearing any makeup—she must have rushed right over.
I twist the key in the ignition, shifting my car into reverse as Seeley locks her seat belt into place. She doesn’t sit up, not really, but I can see her peeking at me. I wonder if she knows where we’re going. Probably. Like she said, I’m pretty predictable.
She smiles when the gravel crunches beneath the tires of my dad’s old Chevy. There’s a click and a grind as she tries to snap her seat up, laughter shaking her body as it jerks too far forward and catapults her more than upright.
“Swimming out your problems like we used to?” She pops open the car door and lets the hot air swirl around us.
“You wanna try?” I can’t help but grin when I look at the lake. It’s not really a lake; we just all call it that. It’s more of a kind of enormous manmade pond. It’s probably a mile wide and a few miles long, if we even measure lakes like that. Wait, what’s the nautical equivalent, I wonder, grabbing my phone so I can google. I kinda want to find out and measure it now, like oh my god our lake is six nautical miles long, which are totally different from road miles because—
Seeley shoves my shoulder with the palm of her hand. “What are you thinking about right now?” Her eyebrows are way, way scrunched up on her forehead.
“I have no idea really.” I laugh. “Nautical miles, I guess.”
“What?” She shakes her head. “Come on, the water’s waiting!”
She runs down the bank and onto the beach, tearing off her shirt and nearly falling over as she scoots out of her shorts mid-stride. I open my car door and trail after, watching the water break apart and glide together as she d
isappears beneath its inky black surface.
I pick up her shirt and shake the sand out of it, doing the same with her shorts as I carry them over to one of the ten million picnic tables that dot the beach. We shouldn’t be here. The place closes at dusk and the cops patrol the area, especially on hot summer nights like this, but—
“You coming or what?” She laughs. She splashes some water in my direction, like it could fly all the way up to where I’m standing, feeling awkward and about as sixteen as they come. I pull off my shorts, but on second thought, keep on my tank top.
“Yeah, yeah.” I shift the clothes on the bench, buying time to steel my nerves, and then walk down to meet her. The water laps at my toes; it’s unexpectedly cold. I step back with a giggle, and Seeley swims forward until she can stand, walking toward me with her hands on her hips.
“You are such a baby.” She grabs me with cold wet hands and tugs me after her. I let her move me a little and then stop. “What now?” she asks.
“I just thought this summer was going to be amazing, like I would die of happiness or something. But instead it feels like, I don’t know, like an ending or something.” We are hip-deep in the water, and I’m shivering so hard now my teeth clatter.
Seeley tucks my hair back behind my ear and lets her hand linger on the back of my neck. “It’s not, Lou, promise. We have another whole year before we even have to worry about stuff like that.”
“And what happens after that?”
“Hopefully we find bigger lakes to stand in?” She splashes me again and disappears under the water, reemerging farther out, down by the ropes the lifeguards use to keep everybody corralled. “Come on!” she shouts, but I just shrug. “Suit yourself,” I hear her say as she ducks under the rope and heads out to the deeper water. Even when we were little, Seeley always begged to go deeper; me . . . not so much.
I wriggle my toes in the sand and let my fingers ghost over the top of the water, content to watch Seeley swim under the bright moonlight. It’s quiet out here, only the occasional cricket or car interrupting the stillness of the night. I wish I could freeze this moment, just bottle it up and live in it forever, instead of hurtling toward this future where college is a thing and Magic Castle doesn’t exist. I look up at the stars, trying not to cry.
Seeley comes back a little while later, kicking her legs dramatically and sending waves crashing all around me. “Hello,” she says when she pops onto her own two legs. “Whatcha doing?”
“Just thinking,” I say, trying to sound happy about it, but the tears are still there, just barely beneath the surface.
Seeley grabs my hand. “Lou.”
“Everything’s changing so fast. I hate it.”
“Change can be good.”
I roll my eyes, wiping at them with the palm of my hand. “Says the person with two parents, and a billion friends, who’s basically guaranteed to be super popular when they inevitably get into an amazing art school next year.”
Seeley pulls her hand back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means like maybe you don’t really know. Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me that change is good, since in my experience it’s always been awful.”
Seeley crosses her arms. “Wow, Elouise. Sorry, but after spending the night with my dying grandmother, I’m not really up for a competition about which one of us has suffered the most.” Her voice is bitter as she stomps off toward the beach.
“Seeley, wait—” I chase after her, grabbing her hand to stop her, but I only succeed in making her lose her balance. We both go sprawling in the sand, adding insult to injury.
“Dammit, Lou.” She pushes herself up, doing her best to wipe off her legs as she walks back toward the car.
“Seeley,” I say again, grabbing as many of our clothes as I can find before chasing after her.
Another set of headlights pulls into the parking lot, and I pick up my pace, wishing I could just disappear into the darkness around me. Maybe I can dive into my car before whoever else is here now can see me. Odds are, it’s gonna be somebody awful like Gordo or one of the other jerks we go to high school with, who think because they live in a small town they have to act like it all the time.
The other car shuts off, and Nick steps out of the driver’s side door. “Elouise? Seeley?”
Fuck my life.
“Hey, Nick.” I try to sound normal, but I kind of want to scream.
He crinkles his forehead. “You guys leaving?”
I can see Jessa in the passenger seat, and she smiles and waves at Seeley like we aren’t standing here, half naked, dripping wet and covered in sand. I hesitate before I answer. I want to stay but . . .
Seeley pushes past me and gets in the car. “Yeah, we’re leaving.”
I drop my head. “Yeah,” I echo, and then get in my own side. Nick stares after us, a confused look on his face, as I slam the car into reverse.
It’s not until we’re back on the road, blasting the heater for the first time since winter and feeling cold in places that nobody should, that I realize Seeley’s trembling.
“See—”
“Just drive, Lou.”
I don’t argue with her for once, just do as I’m told, my hair soaking into the car seat and sticking to my skin in uncomfortable ways.
* * *
• • •
We don’t say a word the whole ride back, not even when I pull up beside her mom’s car and shut off my own. She looks at me and shakes her head, rolling her eyes back the way she does when she’s trying not to cry.
I squeeze her knee and give her a sad smile. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry your grandma’s sick again.”
She laughs, short and bitter, and wipes at her eyes. “I’m not crying about my grandma.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing, Elouise.” She gets out, shaking out her clothes and tossing her shorts onto her trunk. “Great, where’s my shirt?”
My car door creaks open and I come around to stand in front of her. “We could go back?” She glares at me and hops up onto the back of her car. “Or not. Right. Probably not a great idea. Um, can I sit?”
She hesitates, but then scoots over a little, making room for me beside her. “If you scratch my mom’s car with those shoes, she’ll kill you.”
I nod and kick off my flip-flops, climbing up beside her and lying back. I can see the stars, warm and glowing in the sky. I kinda wish I was up there with them. It’s weird how some things can make shining seem so simple.
I rub my hands over my face and stretch out for a better look. “They’re so pretty.”
“What, the stars?” Seeley scoffs.
“Yeah.”
“You know they’re already dead, right? You’re basically romanticizing the beauty of something that died a trillion years ago.”
“It doesn’t make them any less beautiful. I mean, people still have Marilyn Monroe posters everywhere, and she died a trillion years ago too.”
Seeley laughs, and it’s small and quiet, but I’ll take it. I nudge her with my elbow and turn my head to look at her. “What,” we both say at the same time.
“I feel like everything is my fault,” I say.
“Probably because it mostly is all your fault.” She scrunches up her nose the way she does when she’s being extra sarcastic.
“I just wanted us to go to the lake and forget about all the ridiculous drama, but I guess that sort of backfired.”
“Uh, it’s not your fault because you drove us to the lake and we got in a fight.” She raises her eyebrows. “It’s your fault because you’re forcing me to go along with another one of your schemes, and you’re making me mess with people that I consider friends to do it.”
I sigh and shut my eyes because she’s right, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. “I’m sorry,” I say, because what else is ther
e?
“I hope you mean that.” She hops down off the car and shimmies into her shorts. “Up and at ’em, girlie. I told my mom I’d have the car back by ten.”
“I could follow you and we could go to the diner?”
“Nah, I want to wash the lake off me and head to bed.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Okay, but we’re good?”
“Yeah, Lou.” She sighs. “We’re fine.”
* * *
• • •
The light is on under my dad’s bedroom door when I get home. I shuffle down the hallway and stand outside it, my hand poised to knock, but I can hear him in there, snuffling and sighing, the unmistakable sound of a man trying to hold it all together—and I caused that, me—and I just can’t. I drop my arm and then crawl into bed, pulling the covers so tight over me I can barely breathe.
CHAPTER 17
It’s so hot that I’m only doing fifteen minutes at a time in the hot dog suit, and all the parents are grumping by with their hands clenched too tight in frustration. The entire park smells like sweat, and even Mr. P was in a bad mood this morning. I hate days like this.
I’m tired too, which doesn’t help. I couldn’t sleep last night, pressed tight between crisp sheets in the cold airconditioning, replaying the day over and over in my head until I couldn’t stand it for another second.
But still, the show must go on.
“Dance, dance!” the little kid shouts at me, and oh my god, it’s fifteen million degrees, doesn’t he realize that? I mean, I know he looks maybe three, but still, if he’s hot, I’m hot. It’s not rocket science.
“Oh no, you don’t have to,” the little boy’s father says as I start to shimmy, but then Karen walks by with her perfect little clipboard and glares at me.
“Actually, she does,” Karen says. “Right, Elouise? You don’t want to disappoint your fans.”
“Frankly”—I force out a grin—“I always relish the opportunity to make people happy.”
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