“I see hundreds of thousands of people every year. I can read people. I know when I’m being bullshitted.”
“So, why don’t you tell me why I’m here?” Her expression is smug as she waits for my response.
“I’m guessing it’s because Mommy and Daddy keep you on a short leash. Is this your act of rebellion? Go hang out with the evil, dirty carnies to piss them off real good?”
Evan swallows hard at my words, and I know I’ve touched on a nerve. “Mommy and Daddy cut the leash two years ago.” She looks down at the can of beer, rolling it between her palms. Blue eyes lift to mine. “I needed to get away. Again.” Evan laughs to herself.
“What’s so funny?” Eros asks as he pulls out a Swisher and empties the contents onto the ground. Evan watches him curiously as he digs a baggie of bud out of his pocket. With the wrap lying on his lap, he sprinkles the weed inside before rolling it back up.
“The first time I met you guys, I’d run off after a fight with my parents. It all feels so stupid now.”
The sadness in her voice is making me uncomfortable. Eros and I share a look, and he flicks his chin toward her, his eyes widening as if to say do something. Against my better judgment, I stand, extending my hand. Evan stares at it like I’m offering her a pile of shit in my palm. “What?” she asks, suspicion in her tone.
“For how many times you’ve wound up at the carnival, have you ever actually experienced it?”
“No,” she admits, frowning.
“Then let’s go.” Evan slips her slender hand into mine, and I pull her to her feet, seeing a flash of her underwear in the process that makes my dick jerk in my pants. I drop Evan’s hand, clearing my throat.
“What’s first?” she asks.
“Have you ever had deep fried Oreos?” Eros asks, wiggling his eyebrows. He makes quick work of licking and sealing the blunt.
“That sounds revolting,” she says, scrunching up her nose in disgust.
“Them are fightin’ words. Don’t knock it till you try it.” Eros fishes a lighter from his pocket and sparks up the blunt, inhaling deeply. “Want some?” He offers, his voice strained from holding the smoke in his lungs.
“Hell no.”
“All right, all right. A simple no thank you would suffice.” Eros chuckles.
“Drugs are for people who are too weak to deal with their shit.”
“Jesus. It’s weed, Evan,” I point out, trying not to laugh. This chick is so uptight.
Evan’s body freezes up and something flashes in her eyes, but she conceals it before I can even begin to figure out what it was about. I pluck the blunt from Eros’ fingers and hold it up for her to see before I put it out on the bottom of my shoe, ignoring his protests. “Happy?”
“I don’t care what you guys do,” she insists. “I’m just telling you what I think.”
“Give me some credit. I could have been smoking meth. One of the ride jocks offered me Molly, too,” Eros says, pinching the blunt from my fingers and stashing it behind his ear for later.
“Why not do all three? Dream big,” Evan says.
“And risk messing up this pretty face? Never.” Once again, Eros has Evan cracking a smile.
“So, where do we start?” she asks, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
“You tell me. Whatever your spoiled, little heart desires.”
“I’ve always wanted to try cotton candy,” she admits. Eros and I share a look, his shocked expression mirroring what I’m thinking.
“What kind of bullshit childhood did you have?” Eros asks, clearly disgusted.
Evan shrugs. “A very boring one.”
“I can see that.”
We make our way back toward the midway, straight for the Sugar Shack. Evan’s eyes are everywhere, taking in the different booths and tents, like she doesn’t know what to look at first.
“Liz,” Eros says, leaning against the ordering counter. The chick from earlier has her elbows propped against the counter, smacking her gum. Her dark hair is a little too greasy, and her lipstick a little too red, but she’s pretty in a rough way. Especially in comparison to some of the other lot lizards.
“I told you. It’s Destiny.” Her gaze floats past Eros, landing on Evan. “What are you looking at?”
Evan looks taken aback for a minute, and I almost feel bad for her. Carny chicks are rough as hell. Most of these people have had to fight all their lives. Fight to eat. Fight to work. Fight to live. There aren’t very many of them. They’re treated like queens by the men around here, so they think they can get away with running their mouths, knowing they’ll be protected when the shit hits the fan. But Evan squares her shoulders and stares right back.
“I’m not sure yet.” She cocks her head to the side, assessing. “Still trying to figure it out.”
“Oh, you think you’re funny, bitch?” Destiny pushes open the side door to the food truck, but Eros is there to act as a barricade. I stand in front of Evan, just in case, but she doesn’t so much as flinch. Her arms are crossed, eyes challenging. I got to hand it to her. She’s scrappy, and I didn’t see it coming.
Eros leans down to say something into Destiny’s ear, and the fight all but leaves her as she sags against him. I look over my shoulder at Evan who’s watching the scene with her nose scrunched up, like she smells dog shit.
I chuckle, reaching into the window and plucking one of the bags of cotton candy hanging from a line on the ceiling of the food truck, then I grab Evan’s hand, leading her away. “Let’s go.”
She stares down at our linked hands with a crease between those blue eyes, and I drop hers like it’s burned me. It’s the second time I’ve willingly reached for her tonight.
Untying the bag of cotton candy, I hold it out in offering. Evan pinches a piece off, bringing the fluffy pink sugar to her lips of the same color. I watch intently as she closes those lips around her finger, sucking off the sticky remnants. When she’s done, I find her watching me with an arched eyebrow.
I clear my throat. “You look like you enjoyed that.”
“As much as you enjoyed watching me enjoy it?”
“Not even close.”
Evan laughs—the first real laugh I’ve heard from her—and snatches the bag from my hand. “Give me that.” She looks over her shoulder at the Sugar Shack just in time to see the door slam shut. “Is he going to be okay?”
“My guess is he’s more than okay right about now.” The Sugar Shack starts rocking, solidifying that assumption.
“Classy.”
“Yeah, that’s what we’re known for…here at the carnival,” I joke. Anyone associated with the carnival automatically has a bad reputation. We’re known for being dirty and conniving and untrustworthy. Even worse, some of the stereotypes are true. We don’t steal children in the night, and we’re literate—most of us, anyway. But drugs, deception, drama…it’s all par for the course. Most bunkhouses have showers these days, so cleanliness isn’t an issue anymore, though some of the older generation seems to be too set in their ways to change now.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m fucking with you, Evan. Relax.” I wasn’t trying to make her feel bad. It’s good to know she might have a soul somewhere in there, though.
She nods, and we wander as she eats the cotton candy. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, showing this chick around like she’s my date, but here I am doing just that. The ride jocks and the jointees eye us with varying expressions of curiosity and, for some of the chicks, jealousy. But Evan is completely oblivious to the fact that she’s about to be the latest gossip in this whole damn camp.
“Oh!” Evan stops short, shoving the bag of cotton candy into my chest. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she says excitedly.
“Don’t waste your money,” I say, trying to pull her away. “You know it’s all hocus pocus.”
“Well, duh. That’s part of the fun.”
“Suit yourself.”
“You’re not going to come with me?�
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“Not a chance.”
Evan hesitates, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “Wait for me?”
“I’ll be here.”
I watch as she pushes back the flap of the tent and ducks inside, a weird sense of foreboding trickling down my spine that I can’t explain. Minutes pass, seeming like hours, as I pace back and forth in front of the fortune teller’s tent. When my curiosity gets the best of me, I slip inside, remaining undetected, knowing how the tent is set up. A row of hanging beads acts as a partition, and I can just barely make out the back of Evan’s coiled blonde ponytail as she rests her palms in Valeen’s weathered hands as they sit across from each other on the floor.
Valeen’s eyes are closed, and she starts mumbling something too quiet for me to make out. I inch forward, catching the tail end.
“…cursed to repeat the mistakes of the past.”
Evan cries out in pain, trying to pull her hands out of Valeen’s that are now squeezing. Valeen’s eyes pop open, and she looks disoriented for a moment as she releases Evan’s hands. Evan puts her palms on the ground behind her and scurries back a few feet. “What the hell!”
“Did I hurt you, dear?”
Evan cradles her hands to her chest, rubbing them. “I’m fine.”
“You can come in now, grandson.”
I sigh. I knew better than to think I could be here undetected. Pushing the beads aside, I walk through. Evan’s eyes widen when she sees me.
“Valeen.” I make my way through the tent, stepping over the piles of pillows, bending over to place a kiss on the top of her head. “Having fun?”
“I’ve had a little too much fun,” she says dismissively, but I know something has her feeling unsettled. “Help me to bed.”
Wrapping an arm around her, I help her to her feet. She seems uncomfortable. Like she’s hiding something. My grandmother isn’t a psychic, not in the way most people think of the word anyway. She’s intuitive. An empath, maybe. But the crystal ball, the candles, the tarot cards, the gaudy jewelry… It’s an act. An illusion. She tells customers what she thinks they want to hear. She capitalizes on their subconscious vulnerabilities. And for just fifty dollars more, she can clear you of your curse, bad spirits, negative energy, et cetera, et cetera. It’s all bullshit.
“Wait here,” I tell Evan who nods, looking spooked and confused. I’ll be surprised if she sticks around after this.
“Are you wearing your protection?” Valeen asks as I walk her toward the trailer she shares with my mother. I bring her hand to my chest to feel the cross underneath my shirt. She gave it to me when I was a kid, insisting I wear it, especially when I’m doing a show. She tried getting Eros to wear one, too, but he refuses. He wants nothing to do with God or religion. He’s convinced if he walks into a church, he’ll burst into flames. I’m not a religious man, but if it affords Valeen some semblance of peace, I’ll give that to her. The old woman’s had enough loss and tragedy to last five lifetimes.
“Good boy.” She pats my chest. “You’ll need it.”
An uneasy feeling rolls through me, but I know better than to question her. This woman is a vault. Any time I’ve pushed in the past, she’d simply respond with, “All will reveal itself when the time is right,” so I’ve quit asking. Plus, I can pretty much guarantee I won’t like the answer. I know I’m destined to die young. I’d rather be surprised about everything else.
I help Valeen up the steps and into her trailer. She hobbles over to the small card table and sits in one of the metal folding chairs where she’ll play her handheld poker games and smoke cigarettes for the rest of the night, or at least until my mother gets back from wherever she is.
“Sebastian,” she calls my name as I’m walking away. I look over my shoulder to meet her eyes. “Remember who you are and who you belong to.”
“Always.” It’s not like I can forget. She’s said the same thing, every single night, for as long as I can remember. I let the door spring closed behind me. Now, it’s time to see if Evan decided to run away or not.
I CAN’T GET THE FORTUNE teller’s words out of my head. At first, she asked my full name before she hit me with the standard, generic lines about my future career and finding the love of my life, but once we touched hands, she looked…frightened. Something shifted in that moment. Like it was no longer for show. Or maybe that was part of her whole act. Genius, really. Then, she started mumbling stuff that made absolutely no sense to me.
And Sebastian is her grandson? Why was he trying to talk me out of going inside? Maybe he knows the old lady is off her rocker. So many questions run through my mind. I’m completely distracted, so when a hand lands on my shoulder, I practically jump out of my skin.
“Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Evan, right?”
It’s Sebastian’s friend, Elliot. “Yeah,” I say, trying to force a smile when my heart is beating a mile a minute.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m just waiting on Sebastian.” I hook my thumb behind me. “He’s helping his grandmother.”
“Ah,” he says knowingly. “Want to go play some games while you wait?”
I hesitate, unsure of how Sebastian feels about Elliot, but it’s not like we’re dating. We hardly even like each other. There’s no reason I shouldn’t take Elliot up on his offer.
“Come on,” he coaxes. “If Sebastian’s with Valeen, he’ll be a while. She’s a talker.”
“Okay,” I relent.
Elliot grins a boyish smile. “Let’s go win you a purple inflatable alien or some shit.”
“Just what I’ve always wanted.”
Elliot leads the way to a booth with hundreds of colorful balloons pinned to the wall, inflatable prizes dangling from above. He asks for three darts and hands the guy in charge a five-dollar bill. “The secret is to aim for the full ones,” he whispers, leaning in close as he places the darts in my palm. “The deflated ones are impossible to pop. Bounce right off.”
“Don’t go giving away trade secrets to townies now,” the guy behind the booth says with a wink tossed in my direction as if to let me know he’s mostly kidding. I think.
“Sorry, Pete. Can you blame me? Pretty girls give me loose lips.”
I laugh off the corny compliment.
“Yeah, well. Loose lips sink ships,” Pete mutters.
“My lips are sealed.” I pick out the biggest balloon in sight and aim right for it. It hits the less-full balloon beneath it and bounces off, hitting the ground. I try twice more, missing both times. “Dammit.”
Elliot slaps another five onto the counter to try his luck, and to my surprise, he pops three balloons in a row.
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Pete proclaims. “Three-shot prizes are to the right of this line,” he explains, pointing at three columns of prizes separated by size.
“What do you say? Alien, unicorn, mermaid, or guitar?” Elliot asks, pointing them out one by one.
“Easy. Mermaid.”
“One mermaid for the lady, please.”
Pete unhooks an inflatable blonde mermaid with questionable taste in makeup before handing it to Elliot. Elliot turns toward me, mermaid held out in offering. “Here you go.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was shyness I detect in both his voice and mannerisms.
“Well, isn’t this romantic?”
My spine straightens, as if I’ve just been caught doing something wrong, as I turn toward Sebastian, but Elliot seems unfazed.
“Hey, man. I was just keeping her company until you were done.”
“I’m sure that’s all you were doing.”
“Don’t be an ass. He was just being nice.”
“Your services are no longer needed.”
Elliot nods, like he expected nothing else from Sebastian. “See you later, Evan.”
“Thanks for hanging out with me,” I say as my guilty conscience creeps in. Elliot smiles before turning to leave. “Why are you so mean to him?” I ask, not
bothering to tamp down the anger in my voice.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, watching Elliot’s retreating back. “Stay out of it.”
Okay, so apparently, Asshole Sebastian is back. “Gladly.” I turn to leave, but Sebastian hooks his hand around my waist, roughly pulling me into him. I drop the inflatable mermaid, my chest pressed up against his torso. I don’t speak. I don’t breathe. I don’t even think my heart is beating.
“Don’t go.” His voice is full of gravel and reluctance.
“Why should I stay?”
“Because I don’t feel like waiting another year to see you again.”
I swallow hard, dropping my forehead to his chest to hide my face. I hate showing any emotion. Any vulnerability. But Sebastian catches me off guard, not giving me a chance to school my reaction. I’d be less surprised if he told me the Earth was flat.
“There you guys are,” Eros says with the other elusive half of their group. Sebastian drops his hand, and we both break apart. “Jailbait, you remember Tres and Lathan. Guys, you remember our favorite rich girl.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, not so much anymore. Hey.” I lift my hand in greeting, and they both lift their chins in acknowledgment.
“Your parents cut you off?” Eros asks, one eyebrow lifted in question.
“Nah. My dad got hurt a couple years ago. Hasn’t been able to work since.” It’s the closest to the truth I’m willing to admit to a handful of strangers.
“Don’t worry. We’ll show you how the other side lives.”
One by one, I watch the carnival rides shut down as the hordes of people make their way to the exit.
“I don’t think I’m ready for another urban exploration adventure.”
Eros laughs. “Beers by the bunkhouse?”
Sebastian steps on the forgotten mermaid, the air leaving it in a sad hiss, as we make our way back toward the bunkhouse.
Two hours of sitting around the fire pit and three beers later, I can barely keep my eyes open.
“I should get home,” I say, stretching my arms out in front of me. Not that my parents will even notice I’m gone. Mom is still working the night shift, and my dad probably doesn’t even know what year it is. I grab my phone out of my purse, starting to dial the cab company.
Rewrite the Stars Page 7