“Get over here, kid. You too good to answer me when I talk to you?”
I finally turned around. It was a game operator doing the talking, and he was just as scary as I thought he’d be. Fat. Greasy. Bearded. His hands hidden beneath a striped apron. I drew myself up as tall as I could. Made a mean face.
He roared. A phlegmy sound. “Damn, kid. Who shit on your parade?”
I cracked a smile.
“That’s better. Now get over here,” he repeated. “Easy win.”
“N-no, thanks.”
He hawked, then spit. “I’ll make you a deal. How ’bout that? Five balls, five dollars. Best price of the night. Guaranteed winner.” He gave a tip of his head to the row of hanging SpongeBob dolls. It looked like some reenactment of a mass lynching.
I swallowed. I didn’t want to play. At all. But it’d be rude to ignore his offer, wouldn’t it? I walked over and pulled a twenty out of my pocket. My legs weakened when his callused fingers touched mine. The twenty disappeared beneath the apron. A ten came back in its place. I stared. Took the bill without comment.
The guy stepped back and gestured to the row of basketballs. “It’s all yours, kid. Show me what you got.”
The first ball nearly slipped from my grasp, my hands were so slick with sweat. The shot bounced off the rim and rolled toward a hay bale. The carny yawned and pulled out a cigarette. Lit up and turned his attention to his phone.
Pull it together, Drew. You don’t lose. Ever.
I shuddered back in time. Not to the moment when Soren Nichols raised his arms in victory, but to the exact moment when I hit him. I hadn’t forgotten the feel of bone breaking beneath skin. The thrill. I took a deep breath and held the second ball between both hands. Went through the same routine I used before I made my serve in tennis. I squared my feet and visualized the ball leaving my hands and swishing straight through the net. Then I let my mind whisper one word: Perfect.
I bent my legs and took the shot without a doubt in my mind. Pure beauty. The ball went right in. I tossed my head and looked at the carny.
“Hey,” I said. “I won.”
Twin streams of smoke puffed from his nostrils like dragon’s breath. He didn’t take his eyes off the phone. “Didn’t see it,” he said. “I gotta see the shot for it to count.”
“No way. That … that went in!”
He gave a disinterested shrug. “Try again.”
My voice lowered. “I want my money back.”
“And I want your mom to keep me warm at night. Fuck off, kid. Your whining’s starting to piss me off.”
I whirled back around, snatched up the third ball, wheeled, and pitched it as hard as I could. Another perfect shot. It slammed off the back of his head. The phone clattered to the ground.
He moved with superhuman speed, sidewinding toward me with his ugly face twisted in rage. Even with my knees knocking, I stayed right where I was. I wouldn’t run. I just wouldn’t. Not even when I saw his right hand come out from beneath the apron with something bright and glinting. A knife, my mind whispered. He’s got a knife.
I still didn’t run.
Get over here, kid.
I clenched my fists.
I want your mom to keep me warm at night.
I took a step toward him.
“Drew! Dreeeeeeeeeew!” Phoebe’s annoying squawk cut the standoff. She swooped down on me, grabbing my hand and tugging. A crowd of kids swarmed behind her. She glanced at the carny, who’d frozen in his tracks, then she looked away. She didn’t give him a moment’s thought. I stared at his hands. There was no knife. I blinked and shook my head, confused.
I let Phoebe pull me along. I didn’t look back.
“I’ve been searching all over for you!” she cried. “The pig races start in like five minutes!”
“I couldn’t find you, either,” I said.
She flipped her braids over her shoulder. “That’s because you’re over here playing games. God, you’re so clueless. It’s like you’re blond or something. Come on, we have to push if we want to get right up front.”
Push? That’s when I saw the thick mass of people clumping to get into the arena, cattle-drive crazy. Painted pictures of the racers stampeded above their heads. Pork ’n’ Rec. Hogwarts X-press. Jessica Squeal. Snoop Hoggy Hog.
I stopped short. Nerves caught up with me. My stomach tossed and rolled like a bottle in the surf.
Phoebe spun around. Gave me a what now? look.
“I don’t want to go in,” I said.
She groaned. “Are. You. Kidding. Me. I’ve been waiting all night to see this.”
“Well, you go on, then. I said I don’t want to!”
“Fine! You’re beyond stupid. I hope you know that.” She jabbed me in the chest with her finger. “Find me later. I’m not waiting for you.”
I turned and walked off.
My mind crackled. My skin felt electric.
Sssnap!