Forget Me

by K. A. Harrington

  “What did you do today?” I asked.

  She let out a dreamy sigh and started rattling off every detail of her afternoon with Reece. I was delighted that she was happy, even though I didn’t fully trust Reece yet. He still hadn’t proved to me that he’d left that whole Too Cool act behind. But as she relayed every “totally cute” thing he said, my mind wandered.

  Why had Flynn been in River’s End? Did he just pick the town randomly? Could it really be a coincidence that a boy who looked just like him lived a couple of towns over?

  I looked back on certain memories differently now, knowing the truth. Like when he told me his name. Had there been any sign it was a lie? Had his eyes flicked around, taking in the surroundings . . . coming up with the last name Parkman because we were standing in a closed amusement park?

  “You’re not listening to me . . . ,” Toni singsonged into the phone.

  “Sorry.” I groaned. “I’m a bad friend right now. I’m not all here.”

  “So where are you?”

  “Thinking about Flynn, the day we met, when the lies began.”

  Silence hung between us for a long moment. Toni said quietly, “You still haven’t been back there. To Fantasy World.”

  “Not past Larry the Lion, no. But I want to. I’ve wanted to take more shots there for a while. I imagine they’ll be the crown jewel of my portfolio of abandoned places.”

  Toni snorted. “Your pictures are creepy and you are some kind of weird, Morgan Tulley. But it’s time.”

  “For what?”

  “For you to return to the place where you met Flynn Parkman. Tomorrow after school. I’ll be your moral support. Bring your camera.”

  • • •

  King’s Fantasy World wasn’t a big amusement park, even when it had been open. It billed itself as “family amusements,” which meant it was for little kids. At around ten years old it became cool to not care about the park anymore, though we all still secretly liked it as we outwardly called it lame. Kids didn’t really stop coming until they were teens. But the park closed when I was twelve, so I never had the chance to fully outgrow it.

  Having something taken away before you’re ready to let go always hurts.

  Now, Larry the Lion bared his plastic teeth at Toni and me, warning us not to go past the fence. As easily as River’s End teens played at the empty Happy Time Mini Golf, we avoided King’s Fantasy World. There were too many darkened corners and hidden dangers.

  Toni gazed up at the fence. “Do we just . . . climb it?”

  I remembered the last time I’d climbed that fence, the day I met Flynn. I’d nearly hanged myself by my camera strap while scrambling over the top. There had to be an easier way.

  “Hold on a sec,” I told her. I followed the fence, letting my fingers trail along the chain-links, until I came to a sharp point.

  “Oww!” I pulled my hand away.

  Toni hurried to my side. “What happened?”

  I squeezed my finger where an angry scratch stung my skin. “The links are cut here,” I said, realizing what I’d found.

  I pulled hard, stretching the edges open as far as they’d go. “Squeeze through,” I told Toni.

  She slipped inside easily, then held the hole open for me. The metal grazed my arm, fraying an inch of my sweatshirt, but I made it.

  We pushed through the high hedges and then stopped for a breath. We were in.

  “It’s like going back in time,” Toni said.

  I let my eyes take everything in. I’d spent so many hours here when it was open, running from ride to ride, following the tinny music, begging my parents for fried dough and cotton candy. But it was different now. Trash was strewn about the grounds. Grass, struggling for life, pushed its way up the cracks in the pavement.

  The kiddie coaster, the park’s only thrill ride, rose between overgrown trees in the distance. I could almost hear the click-clack of the car going up the hill. It seemed so small and unintimidating now. But when I was little, I thought that hill rose halfway to the clouds. I remembered the first time I rode the coaster. It was both exhilarating and completely terrifying at the same time. I thought my little heart was going to burst out of my chest. I screamed through the whole ride. When it ended, my dad turned to me with a worried look on his face and asked, “Are you all right?” Fists in the air, I yelled, “Again!”

  Sure, it had been terrifying, but it was a safe scare. I knew I’d be all right in the end.

  “Come on, let’s walk around,” Toni said now.

  We started moving forward, slowly. My camera felt heavy around my neck and I lifted it, poised and ready. A patch of moss grew in the shaded area beneath a ticket counter. I brought the camera up to my eye. Click. I took a shot of the Ferris wheel looming in the distance. Its bucket cars had been disassembled and sold, so only the spokes and rods were left behind, like a metal skeleton.

  A plastic bag skittered past us, billowing in the wind, and I followed until it came to rest against the old refreshment stand, which was almost completely covered in graffiti. On one panel of rotting wood, giant bubble letters declared that Susan loved Chris. I zoomed in to capture it.

  “Can we see the carousel?” Toni asked.

  “Sure.” I vaguely remembered its location, somewhere near here.

  “It’s behind that kiddie car ride,” Toni said, pointing.

  The kiddie cars followed a thick metal track. The steering wheels were purely ornamental, but we didn’t realize that at the time, being delusional little kids. We thought we were really driving. Now the cars were rusted. One was hanging half off the track. Click.

  “There it is!” Toni cried, and rushed to the carousel.

  I knew why she was so excited. The carousel had been her favorite ride. I remembered there was a pink horse that she always chose. If it was taken, she’d wait for the next ride just so she could sit on that one.

  But as we approached the carousel, I couldn’t tell which one was her pony. The horses were still and quiet, their paint chipped and faded. The mirror panels were so dirty, I couldn’t even see a reflection. Part of me had wished they’d dismantled the ride and sold it off to live in another park somewhere. But it had been left behind to rot, choking in weeds. Click.

  Toni scowled, her excitement gone. “This place is creepy,” she complained. I didn’t exactly disagree.

  I remembered the day I met Flynn, the last day I’d been here. I was breaking the rules, which was unlike me, but I’d figured it was okay since it was “for my art.” We’d all been warned . . . Bad things happen in the park. Avoid it. But I’d figured those marauding bands of druggies and criminals only lived in parents’ overprotective imaginations. This was still River’s End, after all. Not the city. But, just to be safe, that day I’d planned to stay out in the open. I wasn’t going to enter any of the buildings or climb onto any of the old rides. Those first few minutes inside the park . . . it had been so quiet. I’d felt completely alone. And I’d realized that was the real reason people avoided the park. Not because of any imaginary hooligans, but because it was—by nature—so damned creepy. The deeper I’d explored, the more frightened I felt.

  But then I saw Flynn. And he didn’t look the slightest bit nervous. He was leaning against the fun house like he owned it.

  “Where to now?” Toni asked, snapping my brain back into focus. She rubbed her arms through her jacket, though it wasn’t cold out.

  “The fun house,” I said. “I need to see it.”

  We retraced our steps to the graffiti-covered refreshment stand. I knew how to get to the fun house from there. We took a right, past the giant parallel racing slides, where cracks in the plastic carved winding paths that no person would race on again.

  And there it was. Standing just as it had that day months ago.

  The fun house was painted black and purple, and a giant evil clown head
crowned the top of the doorway. Even though it had been cheesy and full of cheap scares, I’d loved it when I was younger. I remembered the tipsy room, the black-light hallways, the mirror maze. Even at the exit, when you thought you were safe, an air blast at your face combined with a loud horn gave you one last fright.

  “It looks the same,” Toni said.

  A slow smile spread across my face. “I wonder what it’s like inside.”

  Toni’s eyes widened. “No way.”

  I nodded. “Way.”

  She shook her head quickly. “I won’t go.”

  I did my best chicken imitation, clucking and waving my elbows.

  She stuck her chin out. “I’m not going to fall for that.”

  Usually I was the one trying to talk her out of doing something crazy, not the other way around. “It was your idea to come here, remember? Plus, what are you scared of?”

  She counted off on her fingers. “Serial-killing vagrants, rat disease, bat infestations, dead things, ghosts.”

  “None of those are in there,” I assured her.

  “How do you know?”

  I started walking, dry grass crunching under my shoes. I called out, “I’m going in with or without you. So you can come with me . . . or stay out here alone.” I stretched the last word out in the creepiest voice I could muster.

  “Fine!” Toni stomped up beside me. “Though I’m only coming so I can protect you from whatever horrible terror awaits you in there, because I’m the bestest best friend ever.”

  I hid my grin. “I appreciate it.”

  I reached the door that had been the entryway. There was no knob, and planks of wood were nailed across it.

  “That’s too bad,” Toni said, already backing away. “Oh well, we tried!”

  I held my hand out. “Slow your roll, chicken. There’s another way.” I pointed to the side of the building, where the exit had been.

  Toni’s mouth dropped open. “No, no, no.” She sounded like a toddler on her way to a tantrum. “That’s where they blow the horn in your face and the air blasts at you.”

  “You really think that’s still working? The electricity was cut to this place years ago.”

  “What if it didn’t run on electricity?”

  “Face your fears!” I yelled and started jogging the length of the building.

  “Don’t leave me here!” Toni said, half laughing, half legitimately scared.

  We turned the corner to where the exit had been, and it was still there. Just a black painted door. No planks, no giant bolts. I reached out for the knob, expecting it to be stiff, but it turned.

  “It’s unlocked,” I whispered. Though I didn’t know why I suddenly felt the need to lower my voice.

  “Fantastic,” Toni snarked back.

  Once the knob turned completely, the door released and slowly opened inward with an eerie creak. Outside light illuminated the first couple of feet of flooring. But then after that—darkness.

  “You are not going in,” Toni said behind me, her voice panicked.

  “I am.” That memory of Flynn leaning up against the building had stirred something inside me. I was determined to have a look.

  “This is how every teen horror flick starts. You’re like the stupid girl you yell at in the movies.”

  “I’m not the stupid girl. There’s nothing in here. It’s daytime. And this isn’t a horror movie.” I tentatively stepped on the square of wood that used to trigger the blast horns. Nothing. That was a relief. The slightest noise would send Toni tearing out of here. She was sticking so closely to my back, I could feel her breathing on my neck.

  “I can’t see anything,” she said, peeking over my shoulder. “Didn’t there used to be a window in here?”

  This had been the final room to the fun house. Lit by black lights, it had painted monsters on the walls, and a window where kids waiting outside could pop their faces up or bang on the glass to scare their friends. I turned to the right, where I remembered it being. A dim yellow glow came from the area.

  “What are you doing?” Toni screeched.

  “I’m finding the window.” I took slow steps over to the yellowish glow, my hands out in front of me. Finally reaching it, I felt something under my fingertips. I ripped at it, and sunlight poured in.

  Toni held her hands up to her eyes and yelled like a vampire being scorched.

  “The window was covered with old newspaper,” I said. “I just tore it down.”

  “Warn my retinas next time!” she yelled.

  She brought her hands down and both of us waited a beat for our eyes to adjust to the light. The monsters were still painted on the walls—a werewolf, a vampire, a ghost baring sharp teeth. Though they were more cheesy than creepy now. But the room was no longer empty as it had been back in the day.

  A thick blue sleeping bag lay unrolled by the far wall. A battery-operated camping lantern lay beside it. A pile of clothes sat folded in the corner, and beside those was a ratty black backpack.

  “Someone’s living here,” Toni whisper-screamed. “You promised! You said no serial-killing vagrants!”

  I knelt by the sleeping bag and ran my fingers over the top of the nylon. It was dusty. No one had slept here in a while. I picked the first item of clothing off the top of the pile and unfolded it. It was a thin, black T-shirt with a swirly blue design in the center.

  I recognized it.

  “This is Flynn’s shirt,” I said.

  Toni paled and her eyes went to the backpack. I grabbed it, yanking the zipper open, and turned it upside down. I wanted all his secrets to spill out onto the floor, but instead it was only toiletries—a comb, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a deodorant stick.

  “He was living here,” Toni said quietly.

  I pushed myself back up to standing and looked at the mess. I couldn’t believe it. He was a runaway, sure, but I just assumed he’d been staying with someone.

  My chest hurt. I would’ve helped him somehow, if he’d told me. Why would he stay here?

  Toni had picked up the backpack and started squeezing it. “There’s something else in here.”

  She held the bag out to me and I unzipped the front pocket. I reached inside and pulled out a small notebook with a pen stuck in the coil. I flipped through and read a few of the scribbled notes inside. They made no sense to me. There were a few mentions of Stell Pharmaceuticals, which was weird. One page just had the sentence Cops on the take.

  “This is really messed up,” Toni said, practically taking the words right out of my mouth.

  I flipped from back to front, skipping all the blank pages, in an effort to find the last thing he wrote. I stopped when I found the final page. This one was different. Instead of a hurried, barely readable script, his handwriting was neater, purposeful. My heart began hammering wildly in my chest as I read the first two words. It was a note, and it was addressed to me.

  Dear Morgan,

  I’m writing this in case something happens. Don’t come looking for me. I want you to move on with your life.

  Forget me.

  I want you to know that you’re the best thing

  The note ended abruptly, as if he had been interrupted.

  But now I knew. He had cared about me. The breakup in the car was just . . . what . . . him thinking he was protecting me? A tear leaked out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t wipe it away. I let it trail down my cheek and drop to the dusty floor. I wished he’d gotten to finish the note. I wished he’d been more honest with me.

  “Whoa,” Toni said, reading the page over my shoulder. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “He was interrupted and didn’t get to finish the note.”

  She knocked on my head. “Hello, Morgan! Wake up and smell the conspiracy.”

  I blinked quickly. “Conspiracy?”

  “A
ll his weird notes. Mentioning the cops. Then writing a good-bye note to you in case something happens. He stumbled onto something. Something big.”

  I looked at Toni through glassy eyes. “What are you saying? Do you think he was murdered?”

  She shrugged. “Think about it.”

  The night Flynn was killed, my instincts had told me he’d been waiting on that road for someone. He kept looking around and acting nervous. My insecurities had immediately jumped to thoughts of another girl. But now I wondered if someone else had told him to meet there. Someone who could have been involved in this. His strange behavior made more sense. Why he’d wanted me away from there. Why he started a fight when I pushed him for answers.

  He was trying to protect me.

  Familiar feelings of guilt gnawed at me. If only I could have kept him in the car. If only . . .

  CHAPTER 16

  I stayed up too late trying to make sense of the chicken scratch in Flynn’s notebook. At best, they were barely readable notes. At worst, they looked like the rantings of a madman. There were dates—none of which meant anything to me—and names I could barely decipher. Even some algebra. One page only said NT=X. I saw the word Stell a couple of times. I assumed he was referring to the company. After a while, many notes included only the initial S. Were those also referring to Stell? Why had he been researching the company? And what was up with Cops on the take? Flynn was insanely private and a liar, yes. But was he a crazy person, too?

  I kept the notebook tucked in my backpack at school Thursday. For some reason I wanted to have it by my side at all times. Like if I kept it at home or in my locker, it would disappear. Maybe just reading Flynn’s thoughts was turning me into a paranoid freakazoid like him.

  We had a quiz in pre calc, but in my other classes, my mind wandered. I revisited the night of the accident again and again. But now the black SUV was increasing its speed and purposefully swerving toward Flynn. My memory was changing to accommodate the new information. I couldn’t even trust my own brain.