Keeping her eyes locked on his, Cel fingered the necklace until she found the clasp, which was close to the infinity symbol. She raised the clasp to her lips, kissed it, then spun it to the back of her neck as she mouthed the same good fortune spell her own mother, according to Yesenia, had recited when completing the same task. Her mom had left the necklace for Cel when she’d dropped off two-year-old Cel at Yesenia’s house. Cel had rarely taken it off since Yesenia had wrapped and given it to her as a gift on her seventh birthday.
Screams of happy fright and victory bells rang out above the dull roar of the crowd as the hunters snaked toward the fair. An excitement, a tangible buzz as addictive as nicotine, as contagious as the flu, filled the air. The energy seemed to conjure laughter and lift everyone’s feet a foot off the ground. They walked at a brisk pace, silent, their eyes taking in the machines towering above the red tent tops. The rotating Ferris wheel dotted with bright blue and gold lights. The wild, twisting cages on the Zipper. The spinning, green-glowing Octopus Swing, its tentacles almost fully horizontal, brave riders clinging to bars in carts that were tilted completely sideways.
Parker led them to the shortest of the three entrance lines, and within a couple of minutes, they were inside the roped-off field with red bands around their wrists and nostalgic smells of kettle corn and roasted meats caressing their noses. They headed straight for the Ferris wheel. Based on Omar’s suggestion four years earlier, they had always ridden it first so they could get a good view of the area, locate the best rides and booths, and plan a route accordingly. Cel stayed right behind Parker to assure she rode with him like last year. Omar rode with Jeff, Natalie with Abby. As the wheel slowly spun, they looked up and down, left and right, pointing out areas of interest and people they recognized.
The six of them stayed together for the next two hours as the night sky took over, and the crowd thickened. They rode the Scrambler and Tilt-A-Whirl and Gravitron. They slammed into one another with bumper cars, and then slammed into their own reflections as they navigated the Mystical Mirror Maze. They threw darts at balloons, tossed ping pong balls at jars filled with water, and hurled softballs at weighted pins, which netted them a knockoff stuffed Bart Simpson doll (won by Omar and given to Jeff), a rubber Texas-shaped keychain (won by Parker and shoved in his pocket), and a handful of participation stickers.
Then they bought tickets to The Fantastic Journey, one of the few attractions not covered by the wrist band, and spent ten minutes in slow carts, meandering their way through a ramshackle structure, laughing at shoddy mannequins dressed as killer clowns and moaning zombies with twitchy arms. After that, they pitched in and bought two funnel cakes, two cotton candies, and two sodas. All the picnic tables were taken, so they found a patch of grass between two booths and sat in a circle. They shared the treats while jokingly recounting so-and-so’s face on this ride, so-and-so’s lame attempt at this game. By the time they tossed their napkins and cups in a nearby trashcan, it was only a little after nine. They’d convinced their parents to tack an extra thirty minutes onto their regular ten-thirty Friday night curfews, so they still had nearly two hours.
“So, what do we hit up next?” Parker asked.
“The Octopus Swing is the closest cool ride, but I bet the line is long,” Omar said.
“I love that one,” Abby said, shuffling from one foot to the other in obvious discomfort. “But I really need to go pee first.”
Natalie tucked a loose curl back under her cap and hooked her arm around Abby’s. “Me too.” Her eyes scanned the others. “Anyone else?”
Cel and the three guys shook her heads.
“Okay. We’ll meet you guys back here in fifteen minutes.”
As Natalie and Abby navigated the crowd, heading for the row of porta potties near the entrance, Cel turned to the others. “It’s going to take them way more than fifteen minutes. Why don’t we go ride the Zipper then come back here? Its line is never that long.”
Parker wagged a finger in front of her face. “No way, no how. I can tolerate loops and shit, but last year I almost puked my guts out when you made me ride that thing. You’re nuts if you think I’m doing that again.”
Cel punched Parker’s upper arm. “Wuss.” She met eyes with Omar, and his quick head shake answered her unspoken question. A short, incredulous laugh rocketed up her throat and burst out of her mouth. “Both of you guys suck. I’ll just go ride it alone then.”
“I’ll ride it,” Jeff said.
Cel spun on her heels to her left. She’d almost forgotten he was there. He’d hardly said a word all evening. His eyes betrayed the uncertainty lurking behind his brave smile. “Have you ever ridden it before?”
He shook his head. “This is my first fair.”
“Really?” Cel bit on her bottom lip. She knew Jeff had never come to the fair with the hunters, but she didn’t know he was a fair virgin. The memory of riding the Alligator Coaster and the Merry-Go-Round with Tia Dillo at her first fair at the age of five tugged at her heartstrings. Dillo had held her hand when she was scared that night, and they had laughed so much, so hard it hurt her cheeks Cel hesitated for a few seconds, then extended her hand to Jeff. “Come on. You’ll love it.”
Jeff’s brave smile widened, exposing a gap where he’d recently lost a bottom tooth, and he grabbed Cel’s hand.
“He’s too short.” Parker cocked his head and held his hand above Jeff’s head as though Jeff were standing next to a measuring stick. “That ride has a height limit, you know.”
Cel watched disappointment collapse Jeff’s smile. “No, he’s not,” she insisted and pulled him toward her. “Let’s go.” She took the Bart Simpson doll from him and tossed it to Omar. When she and Jeff were almost out of earshot, Parker hollered her name. She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “What?”
Parker pointed to his right. “We’re going to go…” He raised his arms as if holding a rifle. “We’ll meet you back here.”
Cel gave Parker a thumbs-up and guided Jeff to the Zipper. They reached the front of the line after one ride cycle, and an acne-plagued teenager wearing a massive cowboy hat and an equally massive belt buckle eyed Jeff and pointed at the height scale. The requirement was four and a half feet. Fifty-four inches. Cel glanced down at Jeff’s sneakers as he backed up against the sign. They had a pretty thick sole, but Jeff, small for eleven years old, was still about a quarter of an inch short. The teenager looked at the sign, at Cel, the sign, back at Cel. She rolled her eyes at the guy, reached out, and fluffed up Jeff’s thick hair. “There. Happy?” Then she took Jeff’s hand and pulled him into the open cage in front of them. The teenager closed the door without responding or making eye contact with Cel, then lowered and locked the padded safety bar.
They each grabbed the bar, and when the ride lurched upward, Cel heard Jeff gasp. She slid her right hand over his left hand. “It’s okay to be nervous. That’s what makes it fun. The problem is that most people freak out and fight the cage. If you just let it lead you and move with it, you’ll love it. I promise.”
Jeff looked at Cel and nodded. Uncertainty was still evident in his big dark eyes, but a willingness to trust was there as well. He didn’t make a noise for the first few seconds after the ride started, but when the cage began to spin upside down and Cel’s stomach started flip-flopping like a fish out of water, causing her to laugh uncontrollably, he began to laugh, too. Louder and louder. So hard tears eventually streamed from his eyes. When the ride slowed to a stop, and once they had finally stopped laughing, Cel squeezed his hand. “It was fun, right?”
Jeff wiped the wet from his cheeks and eyes with the bottom of his shirt, and then looked at Cel and nodded rapidly. He was beaming, and the look of uncertainty in his eyes had died. Only joy remained. Pure, all-encompassing joy. The same joy Tia Dillo must’ve seen in Cel’s eyes at this same fair years earlier. Cel smiled back, took him by the hand, and hopped out of the cage. She held his hand until they were approaching Parker and Omar, and Omar tossed the Bart
Simpson doll back to him.
“Well?” Parker asked.
Cel glanced at Jeff who was grinning ear-to-ear like a birthday boy and winked. “We had a blast.”
“Oh yeah.” Parker started poking Jeff in the side and stomach, reaching between and around Jeff’s hands when he blocked and squirmed. “I bet you feel like you’re about to puke your guts out now though, huh? Don’t lie.”
Cel knocked Parker’s hands away. “Please. He’s ten times the man you are.”
“Yeah,” Jeff agreed, his bold tone and outthrust chin screaming confidence. “I could ride it a hundred more times without puking.”
As Omar laughed and gave Jeff a high-five, Cel scanned the area. “Have you guys seen Abby and Nat?”
Parker copied her, searching faces in the crowd. “Nope.”
“Knowing those two, they probably got lost,” Omar said.
Cel chuckled. “Right. I should probably go find them. I need to pee, anyway.” Her eyes slid from Jeff, to Omar, to Parker. When none of them hinted at wanting to accompany her, she added, “Why don’t you guys go play a game or something, and we can all meet up at the Octopus Swing in about fifteen minutes?”
“Sounds good,” Parker said, and then threw his arms over Omar’s and Jeff’s necks and energetically ushered them away.
Cel moved slowly, checking every booth and ride for Natalie and Abby as she worked her way back toward the entrance. She saw some classmates and Gateway neighbors, but not her friends. She also noticed how the crowd had changed since they’d first arrived. More teenagers and young adult couples were milling about, less middle-aged parents pushing toddlers in strollers and grandparents holding onto little kids’ hands. When she finally reached the porta potties, she spotted Abby on the opposite side of the lines, which were each ten people deep, talking to a guy in front of a face painting booth. She had a golden, sparkly star painted on her cheek, a flirtatious smile on her face. Natalie was sitting on a stool behind Abby, the bill of her Astros hat tilted up. A large woman was running a paint brush up and down her cheek.
Cel began to loop around the back of the lines, moving their direction, but stopped mid-step when the guy talking to Abby glanced her way. Her heart jumped up into her throat. Although a Dallas Cowboys hat partially shaded his face, she immediately recognized him. She didn’t remember his name but knew she’d seen him at Maria’s house when she’d gone over there with Tia Dillo. The pointy nose and chin scar gave him away. He was one of Jose’s best friends, one of the guys who’d laughed when Jose had teased her about her flat chest. Which probably meant Jose was nearby. And if Jose recognized Abby, then…
Cel’s eyes flitted from face to face as she hustled toward Abby, hoping not to land on Jose. She angled her head down as she approached the guy in the Cowboys hat from behind. In one swift motion, she swooped around him, grabbed Abby’s arm, and jerked her away like a teacher forcing a disobedient kid out of the classroom.
Cel led Abby about ten or fifteen yards, making sure to keep their backs to the guy, before Abby pulled loose and glowered at her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Motion for Natalie to come on.” Cel spoke through gritted teeth. Her eyes were wide with urgency. “He’s one of Jose’s best friends. We need to get out of here.”
Abby held Cel’s gaze for a long moment before glancing over Cel’s shoulder in the guy’s and Natalie’s direction. Cel watched Abby’s eyes slowly change from surprised anger to fear as the realization of the possible consequences settled in.
“Hurr—”
Cel broke off when Natalie yelled out her and Abby’s name in succession. “What are you guys doing?”
“Chingao,” Cel whispered. She cocked her head Natalie’s direction. The guy was staring at her. Natalie was staring at her. The lady painter was staring at her. Many of the people in line were staring, too. She gestured with her hand for Natalie to come to them.
Confused, Natalie hesitated, but when Abby frantically gestured as well, she nodded, hopped off the stool, and headed their way. As she hurried past the guy in the Cowboys hat, movement to her right caught Cel’s attention. Cel looked that way and saw Jose emerging from the nearest porta potty, sauntering toward his friend. He was in jean shorts and a tight, solid white tank top, the kind Yesenia called a wife-beater. Following his friend’s eyes, Jose looked at Cel, and one corner of his mouth briefly crept up in a cocky smirk. But when his eyes shifted to Abby, the smirk vanished, and his eyes swelled with recognition. He didn’t say, “Tits,” loud enough for Cel to hear, but his lip movements were unmistakable.
Cel nudged Abby. “Get out of here.”
As Abby fled, Cel darted over to Natalie who was about five yards away and grabbed her by the arm. “Come on! We have to get out of here!”
Cel pulled Natalie through the crowd, slamming into unsuspecting fair-goers as she tried to catch up with Abby. She didn’t bother to look back and verify that Jose and his friend were chasing them. She didn’t need to. Like his mom, he had a vengeful spirit. On more than one occasion she’d heard him brag about beating up guys, and even slapping a few girls around because they’d disrespected him in one way or another. No, she didn’t need to look. He was a predator, and now he knew his prey.
They ran for what seemed like hours, jutting around booths, cutting between lines, anything in hopes of losing Jose and his friend. When they rounded the Test Your Strength hammer game, where a young man wielding a sledge hammer told them to “watch the fuck out,” they finally caught sight of Abby. She was standing next to Parker, Omar, and Jeff at the back of the line for the Octopus Swing. She had her hands clamped on Parker’s forearm. Her mouth was frantically moving, her feet pumping up and down as though she were standing on hot coals. She pointed Cel’s and Natalie’s direction and Parker glanced that way, locking eyes with Cel as she and Natalie approached.
“We have to get out of here,” Cel said, struggling to catch her breath. She let go of Natalie’s hand, pulled off her flannel shirt, and tied it around her waist. A good forty pounds heavier, Natalie was struggling even harder to breathe. She stooped and placed her hands on her knees as though about to collapse.
“Jose is here,” Cel said. “He’s com—”
“I already told him,” Abby cut in. Then she glanced over Cel’s shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath. “There they are.”
Everyone looked.
Jose and his friend were fighting through the crowd about twenty yards away, searching the area like two determined bloodhounds.
“There are only two of them, and they don’t know me and Omar are with you guys,” Parker said, forgetting to mention Jeff. “If we split up, it’ll be easier to avoid them.”
Before anyone had time to fully contemplate the idea much less refute it, or suggest a meeting point, Abby grabbed Parker’s hand. “Let’s go.” As she tugged him toward her and they started skirting the metal railing that surrounded the Octopus Swing, Omar pulled the hat off of Natalie’s head, took her by the arm, and pushed her into the bulk of the crowd, moving toward the Zipper on the far edge of the fair.
Meanwhile, Jeff sidled up next to Cel and forced his sweaty hand into hers. She glanced down at him and was disheartened to see that the unbridled joy she’d last seen in his big brown eyes had been replaced by fear. She leaned over far enough for her breath to tickle his ear, whispered the protection spell that Yesenia had tattooed onto her psyche, hoping it would soothe him and her alike, and then they cut across the crowd Omar and Natalie had joined, traveling in the opposite direction of Parker and Abby. They slipped between a concession stand and game booth, headed for the perimeter rope in order to follow it and loop back toward the entrance, when Jeff’s hand jerked out of Cel’s.
Cel spun around. Jose had grabbed Jeff from behind and lifted him off the ground. He had one arm wrapped around Jeff’s torso, pressing Jeff’s back to his chest. His opposite hand covered the lower half of Jeff’s face to muffle his screams. Jeff’s feet fl
ailed about six inches off the ground, slapping into Jose’s shins. Cel surveyed her surroundings, looking for a stick, or a rock. Anything she could swing or throw. But she couldn’t make out much. It was too dark. The booths in front of them blocked out most of the fair’s glow, and the soccer fields on the opposite side of the rope serving as parking lots weren’t lit.
“If you scream, I swear I’ll snap his neck,” Jose said.
Cel stepped toward him, where she could see his face well enough to make eye contact. “Leave him alone. He’s just a kid.”
“Looks old enough to take a beating to me.” He squeezed tighter on Jeff’s chest, the muscles in his bare arm constricting like a python, forcing the air out of Jeff’s lungs. “Especially if he helped you guys break into my house and steal my mom’s familiar for your abuela.”
A chill as deep as February slithered up Cel’s back, and the pee she’d been holding in threatened to flood out. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her thighs together until the urge passed. “My abuela didn’t send us to your house.” She took another step forward. “And nobody touched your mom’s stupid fucking cat.”
Jose’s friend, the guy in the Cowboys hat, emerged from in between the booths and walked up behind Jose. “I don’t see the other two anywhere.”
“They’re out there somewhere, so go fucking find them,” Jose ordered.
Cel waited for the guy to nod and walk away before saying, “I asked a couple of my friends go to your house with me. And I,” she tapped her chest, “crawled in through the window to look for a book that could help me reverse the curse your mom put on Tia Dillo.” She pointed at Jeff whose eyes were swollen with terror. “He’s eleven years old. He didn’t know anything about it. He was at home asleep for God’s sake.”
“Don’t fucking lie, Cel. We know you took Frito, and I don’t care if this shithead was there or not. He’s with you now, and someone’s got to pay.”
Cricket Hunters Page 11