Chapter Twenty-Four
Good or bad, everyone will have something to say about your relationship. Your head will certainly have an opinion of its own. Armed with boxing gloves, it’ll be ready to knock your heart out in one punch. Your heart can’t possibly know what it’s talking about, because it lacks the computing power to fully understand the consequences of love. Conversely, the brain thinks too much, and it can never calculate an arbitrary equation as complex as love. The arithmetic simply isn’t there.
So, yeah, there’s a war brewing deep in my bones. They’re going to fight to the death, but something tells me I’m the only one who’s going to lose anything. I’m going to lose my future or I’m going to lose Blue. I’ve already lost too much and I’m going to war to keep them both, armed with nothing but desperation.
I should go with him. I should stay here. Every second I allow my brain to think, I change my mind. It’s exhausting. I crank up the music as I drive home, hoping the blaring bass will drown out any more decision-making my brain attempts.
I think of the people I’m leaving behind and have to remind myself that I won’t be gone forever. Just long enough for Blue to figure out what he’s going to do. And this could be a good thing for me too, getting away from all the pain and bullshit of the past month. I’ve never been one to run away from my problems, but that’s probably because I’ve never really had actual problems before. I’m new to this adult thing and I don’t think I’m cut out for it.
I pull into my driveway and put the car into park. I still have time to change my mind. I get out of the car and gently close the door. My mom will be home in less than an hour.
It’s funny how one thing changes a million other things. I stare at the pictures of my friends and family taped to the corners of my mirror–I’m old-fashioned that way. Born in the wrong decade, I tell you. But that’s not the point. The point is that my bedroom feels distant, strange, and unfamiliar, like it’s not even my room anymore.
I felt the same way as I ascended the steps. I was walking on foreign carpets. I’m not sure if this is something everyone goes through when they leave home, or if it’s a special feeling reserved for those of us fortunate enough to experience a crazy carnival ride at such a young age. I’m part of a special club now.
The duffel bag on my bed is almost full, stuffed to the top with randomly selected clothing. I’ve barely made a dent in my closet, but it’s not like I’m moving out. I’m running away. It’s a far cry from the days I used to daydream of leaving for college. My family and friends would be here to send me off in a U-Haul packed with everything in this room and my mom’s sofa because it’s the most comfortable damn thing I’ve ever had the privilege to sleep on.
I grab a blank sheet of paper that sits alone in my printer. I’m not sure what to say even as I begin to scribble a note—it’s been a while since I’ve written anything by hand, and it shows. I leave the completed note on my bed, held down by a snow-globe with a picture of me and Summer in it.
I zip up my bag and take one long glance at my room before I gently shut the door. It’s really goodbye and it’s not until I’m well out the front door that I process the letter I just wrote for my mother. It was meant as a goodbye-for-now letter but reads much more like fiction. In the future, when all the dust has settled, maybe I’ll try my hand at being a writer.
Mom,
I wish things could have been different. I wish I could be the perfect daughter. I wish a lot of things these days, but most of all, I wish I had the courage to tell you goodbye.
But I know that you love me unconditionally, and because of that love, you would have convinced me to stay. And you would be right, but that’s not what I need right now.
But I love you too. And I’ll be home. Someday.
Love, Charlie
I throw my bag into the backseat of the car, and then take another longing glance at the house I grew up in—the house that built me, if you will. The foundation is cracking, and I hope there’s still a house standing whenever I decide to come back.
Tyson sits in the passenger seat. He’s quiet, but so am I. He hasn’t said much since I told him I was leaving town. I think he’s mulling it over in his head, either trying to process it or come up with a reasonable plea to make me stay.
“I like Blue,” he says, breaking the silence. “I mean, you have to take the good with the bad.”
I turn to him, knowing full well that I should keep my eyes on the road. “Is it too much bad, though?”
“Not if you love him.” He shrugs. “I guess.”
His words soak in and I nod in agreement.
“Road, Charlie!” he yells and points ahead.
I’m straddling the lanes like a cowgirl. I jerk the wheel to the right to correct myself. “It’s not like I’m not coming back,” I say. “I am. Someday.”
His turn to look at me. This is definitely a safer way to communicate, even if I can feel his judgment, although not vocalized, poking and prodding against the side of my face.
“What’s the plan again?” he asks.
“I’m meeting Blue at the carnival, and then I need you to take my car back home.”
“Right.” There’s a smirk on his face.
“Tyson…”
“What? I just wanna take it for a short drive.”
Tyson is that unfortunate kid in every town who has those parents who believe their kids must work for their first car. He’s been working since he was seventeen, but he spends way too much of his pay on all the stupid things we all spend our own cash on. It’s a rough life.
“Just make sure it’s in my mom’s driveway before noon tomorrow.”
He flashes a wide grin. “Sure thing.”
We pull into the packed field of the carnival. I drive up and down the aisles of the lot searching for Blue’s Jeep. It takes a good few minutes before I see it parked underneath a large tree. I pull in beside it.
Tyson jumps out of the car, opens the door to the backseat, and grabs my bags. A perfect gentleman. He tosses them into the back of the Jeep.
I make my way around the car to find him swaying on his feet, both hands deep in his pockets. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
“I don’t believe in mistakes.”
I nod in newfound agreement. “I wish I could say goodbye to everyone.”
“I’ll give them the message.”
“How angry do you think they’re going to be?”
“Pretty pissed.” He smiles and caresses the thick air with his hand. “But I’ll smooth it over.”
“I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be, so I should—”
His arms circle around me, hugging me tight. “Just promise you’ll call whenever you get where you’re going,” he says quietly against my ear.
I pull back, brushing the length of his arms. “I promise.”
We give each other knowing looks, the kind that says a less formal, final version of goodbye. With a nod of my head, I turn and begin my journey toward my new life.
“I get it,” he says.
I turn around, waiting for the rest of his sentence.
“I know why you’re leaving. I’d do the same thing.”
I just smile.
“Plus, he’s kind of hot…”
I rush toward him, embracing him. If I hold him any tighter, his head would probably pop off. “You were always the best of us.”
“I know.” He grins. “You should go find Blue.”
There are tears in my eyes when I walk away. I don’t bother wiping them because it’s a relief.
From within, I feel the humanity surging through me, but I know it’s fleeting. It’ll flicker out soon, and I won’t know when it’ll hit me again.
As I approach the gate, I take one last glance at Tyson, leaning against the trunk of my car.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It’s the last day of the carnival and things are in full swing. The crowds have ballooned since the last time I was he
re—the night Dylan died.
Traditionally, fireworks burst across the sky during the last four hours. Tonight is no exception. It’s still early, so there are longer spans between the bangs and the booms. Streams of rockets are launched into the sky, painting willow trees against the backdrop of illuminated clouds.
I tried to call Blue as I hopped the gate, but his phone went straight to voicemail. He has a knack for not charging his phone, which is really unfortunate on a night like this. I have no idea how I’m going to find him, but I guess the best place to start would be the offices toward the back.
The crowd is thick as I push my way through the throngs of carnival-goers. To the left of me is an impossibly long line for the Zipper. But I see a shortcut, so I ditch through the crowds, pass the loading gate, and escape onto the midway that circles around the entirety of the grounds.
I brush my hand through my hair and press forward. I’m in the center of Game Street. Booths line both sides of the midway, thousands of dollars being stolen by unethical carnies scamming for their overlords. There’s a girl sitting on a stool preparing to launch darts against under-inflated balloons. The prize for success? A bear that retails for fourteen dollars at a chain department store near you.
I make a left at the end of Game Street and approach the campers that double as offices. One of them is Blue’s dad’s. Maybe I’ll finally get to meet him.
I’m not really thinking as I climb the steps and open the squeaky door without so much as a knock. I lean my head into the camper, and it’s empty of human life but full of empty beer bottles that sit on a desk covered in envelopes.
I crane my head to look over my shoulder, making sure nobody sees me as I shut the door and step toward the desk. I have a sudden urge to be nosy. We’ll just say that it’s natural curiosity, and I’m trying to make a little sense of the situation I’ve found myself in.
I shuffle through a stack of envelopes and one in particular catches my eye. In thick red markings, Blue’s name is scribbled across an empty envelope. I wonder if he’s been here already.
Fireworks crackle from outside, followed by a sonic-boom-like explosion.
“Hello.”
My body jumps and I spin around to face the intruder. I recognize him as Cookie, Blue’s friend.
“I didn’t even hear you come in,” I say with an innocent smile. “The door’s usually kind of squeaky.”
“You just have to know how to open it,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
I’ll skip the snooping part and go straight for the semi-truth. “I’m looking for Blue. Have you seen him?”
He shakes his head. “Not today.”
I’m going to be here all night.
“Do you maybe wanna step outside before Big Daddy comes home?”
“Big Daddy?” I ask, though I didn’t mean to say it out loud. I walk past him and push the door open. He follows me out and gently shuts the door behind him.
“See?” he says, referencing the silence of the door as it closed. “You just gotta know how to do it.”
I smirk. He scans the area then looks at me. “Do you want me to wait with you?”
“I should probably find him.” I shrug. “Do you really think he’ll come here?”
“If I know him as well as I think I do, then yes.”
Hmm.
“I know him very well. He’ll show.”
“All right.” I sit down on the steps of the camper. Cookie joins me. Previously, we had only met for a total of sixty seconds, so we’re still in that awkward stage of being complete strangers. But I know him a little more than he knows me. I know his deepest, darkest secret. It’s silent as we both stare ahead, waiting for the same man but for different reasons.
He rubs his palms against his jeans.
Do I tell him the truth? That I know everything? That Rake is in town?
Cookie digs into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a balled-up bag of what I presume is Molly. I don’t say anything as he spills the contents of the bag out onto a debit card, then begins to separate the powder into lines. He’s quick and efficient. And I’m wanting and craving. My eyes are glued to the drug, like it’s the perfect medication to calm my derailing nerves.
It’s here, in this moment, when I’m thinking about what it is that I want to do–Molly–that the toll begins to really hit me. All the fear, which is the reason I’m running, and all the doubt, the reason that I’m sitting here instead of being out there in the crowds, searching for him. Everything that made some sort of fucked-up sense just a few hours ago is unraveling. All these little threads of—
“Want some?”
“Huh?”
He pushes the debit card toward my lap. My common sense tells me I need to have a clear head but my fingers are soldiers for the part of my mind that’s screaming Fuck that. He hands me a rolled-up twenty and I press it against my nose. The Molly burns against the fibers of my nose and shoots down my throat. I pinch my nose with one hand and pass the card back with the other. Swiftly, he snorts up the last line.
“I guess this makes us friends.” He nudges me playfully.
“Is that all it takes?”
“I guess I’m just a people person.”
“Right,” I say. “Irresistible.”
“Why you looking for him, anyway?”
“We’re running.”
“Shocking.” He chuckles. “That boy can’t stay put anywhere for too long.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think he planned on a psychotic drug dealer tracking him down.”
His eyes turn to steel. “What are you talking about?”
I shouldn’t have said that. “It’s nothing.” I swallow a chunk of air. My heart beats through my jeans. I become aware of every breath, of every sight and sound. “I have to go.” My feet shake, almost like Jell-O, as I stand up quickly.
“I thought you were waiting for Blue.”
“I have to find him.”
“Maybe you should sit down.” He rises and moves to the front of me, grabbing my arms. I can feel my eyes sinking toward the ground. I push him off me and flee.
My feet are heavy and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to walk. This Molly is different from the time before. It’s stronger–much more dangerous. My face is flushed, my cheeks clammy. I rub my palm against my forehead, wiping off a layer of sweat. It’s a chore to keep my eyes open. It seems all I want to do is close them and sway to the beat of carnival music. And that’s what I do. Dancing lights flash against my eyelids, putting on a show in the dark. My head sways to the side.
I open my eyes and shake it off. There are two cops leaning against the back of a concession stand. I can feel their eyes burning holes through me. I turn around with a new resolve to find Blue before the police find me. Everything is heightened—smells, sights, and sounds—like the sound of feet plodding against the ground. I pick up the pace and push myself into a thick crowd clustered together outside a shelter house where a local–and rather shitty–amateur band plays.
Screaming rockets shoot into the sky and explode into golden glitter. I can feel every particle disintegrate. I begin to move again and as I exit the concert crowd, I run into the back of a sharp-dressed man. He turns around, and he’s all too familiar. “Hey, Jimmy Clay,” I say, my disdain beaming through clenched lips.
“Do I know you?”
“Not exactly.” I turn around, leaving him behind.
Ding! Ding! Ding! I fumble to the side, tripping over the carefully placed feet of a clown doing clown things in front of a crowd of children. The clown stares at me as I recover. The parents of the children do the same. Everybody knows I’m fucked up.
Ding! Ding! Ding! A man pulls a hammer up over his shoulder, boasting in sheer pride at the strength of his swing.
“Douchebag,” I whisper under my breath.
Or so I thought.
He turns and stares me down. Everybody is staring at me. I cut through the grass and stumble through the line for the tea c
ups and right into the short line for the Ferris wheel. Of course it’s a short line. The majority of people, even in this town, are smart enough to avoid this terrifying death trap.
It wasn’t intentional, my landing here, but I figure it’s my best chance to find Blue in this suffocating mess. My eyes are racing as I wait for the line to move. When it finally does, I’m about ten feet too slow and have to jog to the gate before it shuts.
A cute carnie—yes, there’s more than one—ushers me into my seat. My heart is pounding before the ride even begins. I expect that once it starts, it’ll beat right out of my chest. It won’t be the way I had always imagined dying on this ride, but it’s death, just the same.
Instead of intense terror, I feel peace. The way the cool wind blows softly against my skin comforts me. Up here, the paranoia that the entire world is watching me fades away. Instead, I watch them. Thousands of ants all biting on the same spilled bag of cotton candy. I feel for them, all searching for something they’ll never find.
I need to find Blue.
An eruption of red, white, and blue fireworks glows against my face. Always patriotic and almost never the Fourth of July. As the ride cycles closer to the ground, my eyes are drawn to him like magnets that are drawn together in science class.
I’ve found Blue. He’s walking toward the field, probably going to his Jeep. He’s ready to leave without me.
“Blue!” I scream, but I’m overpowered by another burst of neon explosions in the sky. He turns his head toward the fireworks and watches them fall back to earth as he continues to walk. I scream for him again, but he turns his head back around.
The six-shot revolver of death comes to a sudden halt. I’m close to the bottom, but not close enough to jump.
“Hey,” I yell to the carnie, waving my hands at him.
He looks up to me and tips his hat backward so he can make eye contact. “Need off?”
I nod my head. He smiles at the carnie who operates the ride, and the ride starts up again. I don’t have the three minutes this ride will steal from me if I’m forced to go again. I resolve to jump out, but wait until I’m closer to the ground. When that time comes, I stand up and steady myself against the bars, ready to jump. The seat wavers back and forth, and even though I’m only about ten feet from the ground, I can feel the tidal waves in my stomach.
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7) Page 79