“Now you’re just being cruel.”
“I like pushing your buttons.”
“You’d enjoy it more if you undid them first.”
Save me. “I think you should go and help Daniel.”
“With what?”
“Anything.”
Noah stood. There was a mischievous smile on his lips as he left.
I stared at the bottle of Tylenol for another few minutes and tried to envision it moving, but it went nowhere and I gave myself a headache. I popped it open and took two, then trudged into the kitchen and plopped down at the table across from my mother, who was sitting with her laptop. I rested my head on my arms and sighed dramatically.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Why are boys so annoying?”
She chuckled. “You know what my mother used to say?”
I shook my head, still in position.
“Boys are stupid and girls are trouble.”
Truer words were never spoken.
38
DELIGHTED SCREAMS PIERCED THE AIR AS carnival rides swirled and blinked and swung over my head. I walked with my older brother through the crowd of people; it had been years since we were last at a fair, and the second we arrived, our dad dragged our mom onto the Ferris wheel and Joseph absconded with my boyfriend to conquer some ride, leaving me and Daniel alone.
I was flooded with sounds and scents; artificial butter and giggles. Frying dough and swelling shrieks. It felt good to be out like this. Normal.
“Just you and me, sister,” Daniel said as we milled around between booths. “Whatever shall we do?”
A little kid walked by carrying enough balloons to make me wonder how many it would take for her to lift off. I smiled at her, but the second she met my eyes, she darted away. My smile fell.
We passed beneath a row of hanging stuffed animals. “I could win you a teddy bear,” I said to him. My feet crunched over discarded popcorn and I dodged a giant puddle left by an earlier drizzle.
He shook his head. “The games are rigged.”
Noah and Joseph reappeared from the multitudes, then. My little brother looked pale and shaken. Noah’s blue-gray eyes were lit with amusement.
“How was the ride?” I asked.
Joseph lifted his chin and shrugged. “It was okay.”
“He was very brave,” Noah said. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The four of us meandered until Joseph stopped us and pointed up. A huge menacing clown face towered over the entrance to a garishly painted building.
“Hall of Mirrors! Yes!”
No.
Daniel must have noticed my unease because he put his arm around Joseph’s shoulder. “I got this,” he said to Noah and me. “You guys have fun.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Joseph called back, and the crowd swallowed them up.
A slightly wicked smile appeared on Noah’s lips. My favorite. “It seems we’re on our own,” he said.
It did. “It does.”
“What shall we do with this newfound freedom?”
The twinkling lights accented the angles of his high cheekbones. Noah’s chestnut hair was a tousled, gorgeous mess.
I’m sure we can think of something, I thought. I was about to say so when I heard a voice behind us.
“Would the young lovers like their fortunes told?”
We turned to find a woman wearing the traditional costume: long and flowy printed skirt, check. Peasant blouse, check. Wavy black hair spilling out of a head wrap, check. Too much makeup, check. Regulation gold hoop earrings, check.
“I think we’ll pass,” I said to Noah. No need to tempt fate. “Unless you want to?”
He shook his head. “Thanks anyway,” he told her as we headed away.
“You must not go out there,” she called out after me.
I felt a rush of familiarity as her words tickled the back of my mind.
“What did you just say?” I’d heard those words before.
The fortune-teller peered at me with guarded eyes, her expression mysterious. “Come with me and I will explain.”
Noah sighed. “Look—”
“It’s okay,” I said, glancing up at him. “I want to go.”
Noah raised an eyebrow, his expression darkly amused. “As you wish,” he said to me, and we began to walk.
We followed the woman as she wove a path through the people to a small striped tent. She held the flap open; there were twinkle lights and crystals, flocked tablecloths and hanging tapestries. They adorned the little space without irony. Noah and I stepped in.
The fortune-teller shook her head at Noah. “You may wait outside,” she said to him. “My daughter will show you where. Miranda!” she called.
A sullen-looking girl with a pink streak in her hair appeared from behind a beaded curtain.
“Please offer this young man some tea. Show him where to sit.”
The girl, who was about thirteen or fourteen, seemed like she was about to roll her eyes until she noticed Noah; the long line of him leaning carelessly against the frame, the slight sarcastic smile on his perfect mouth. Her demeanor changed instantly and she drew herself up.
“Come on,” she said to him, and tipped her head toward the curtain.