“Do you think I’m an idiot? What if Juliet is here and sees us together? What if anyone from school sees us? They’ll think it’s a date. If this is some sort of tactic to try to claw your way back I—”
He slaps his forehead. “I didn’t think, man, honestly. It looked fun.”
“Take me home, Dyl.”
“What?”
“I … I can’t do this. I want to go home.”
I remember what I said to Trevor, about taking the pain from others, about how it’s braver to take some pain from them, to bear it, than it is to leave them suffering alone. Dyl’s shoulders are slightly hunched and he keeps blinking, like he hopes I won’t notice what he’s doing.
Preventing himself from crying.
Because I’m not the only one who feels things that need to be hidden. He’s the person I’m the most like my real self with, but I still downplay some things, like my feelings for him, when we’re together. Now I know that he’s doing something similar: downplaying how he feels about tomorrow.
I open the car door and step outside. “Screw it.” I slam the door shut. My shoes sink into the damp ground. “Let’s go. I don’t care if they see us.”
“You sure?”
I nod, and he climbs out and locks the door behind him. We start walking through the carnival.
“Don’t stand so close,” I say as I approach a stall. I run my fingers through the fur of a teddy bear that’s on display. “I don’t care if they see us together, but I’m not actively suicidal.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “As you command, Nice guy.”
I hand over a fifty-dollar bill to a bubbly young woman and she hands me six juggling balls and two twenties.
“Get a ball into the container and you win a prize,” she says. “Get more in and you get better prizes! Good luck!”
I hand three of the balls to Dyl, then take aim and throw. The ball hits the middle of the container and bounces out. Damn it!
“Rookie,” says Dyl. He takes aim. His eyes narrow in the way they always do when he cares about something, and he holds the ball beside his head, his biceps flexed. Even through the jacket it looks fantastic. I notice I’m staring at his arm, and blood rushes to my cheeks. I kick the dirty ground as he throws. He gets the ball in.
I throw again. I miss.
He crosses his arms. “Are you pretending to be bad at this? You know, to make me feel good about myself?”
I give him the finger.
He throws and it bounces out. The crack in his perfectness makes me want to laugh, but I keep my lips pressed together.
Now it’s my turn to throw again. Come on, impress him. Show him you’re good at something. I throw the ball. This time I miss completely.
He gets his shot in. Of course he does. He pumps his fist when he makes it.
“Congratulations,” says the girl. “You can take your pick from the back wall.”
Dyl leans back and peers at the wall like a scholar. “Surprise me.”
The girl hands Dyl a pink stuffed dinosaur. He squeezes it and it squeaks. “What I’ve always wanted. Thank you.”
She laughs. “You’re welcome.”
We walk away.
“Do you like my dino?” he asks. “I’m thinking of calling him Mr. Huggles.”
I frown. “Are you serious?”
He lifts an eyebrow, then walks up to a family that’s waiting in line in front of the cotton candy stall, leaving me alone. He waves at them, getting their attention, and then he starts talking to the parents. A small girl, maybe four at the oldest, is hiding behind her father’s legs. Dyl crouches, then offers her Mr. Huggles. She reaches out and snatches it from his grasp, then returns to her safe place. The parents laugh, and then Dyl makes his way back to me with his hands tucked into his pockets.
“That was the furthest thing from Bad I’ve ever seen,” I say. “It was, dare I say it, adorable.”
He shoots me a back-the-eff-off look. So I drop it.
“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel,” he says, pointing at the structure that towers above everything. It’s large and white, and candy-colored lights have been attached to each carriage.
I tilt my head up. It’s really high. What if one of the carriages snaps? We’d die. Is a silly ride worth it?
Dyl is staring at it with wide eyes.
I gulp, and wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. “I don’t like heights, but it’s your call, man.”
“Then let’s go.”
The line takes about twenty minutes; we stand slightly apart just in case someone from school sees us. I already have a lie planned if we run into someone: I’m here with a group, but none of them wanted to go on the Ferris wheel so I’m going alone. Being next to Dyl is a total coincidence, I didn’t even recognize him. It’s not my best lie, but it’s unlikely I’ll have to use it. I already texted Juliet to see where she is, and she’s at home studying. I also checked with Nat and Trev, and they’re both busy. Nat’s at an author signing in DC, Trev is training. Dyl has no other friends, so there’s no danger there, and I’m not sure anyone else knows us enough to know that this pairing is unusual. They might even think we’re just on a date and not care at all. I like the thought of that.
I lean against the cold railing and watch Dyl as he watches the crowd. He looks at everyone, but his more intense focus seems to be drawn toward couples.
We reach the front of the line and he faces me. “You know, the only way you can know in public if someone is a couple is if they hold hands. Like, we’re together, but no one thinks we’re a couple. But if we held hands, they would.”
“I guess. What’s your point?”
“Well, maybe it’s because I’ve never been close enough to someone to hold their hand, but it seems like people only do it to prove to others that they’re in a relationship. They’re like, Screw you, strangers, I found someone and you’re alone, and I want you to know that. You know?”
“Maybe they like each other a lot? Maybe they just want to hold the hand of the person they love and they don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You really are a Nice, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Someone who wasn’t at least partially Nice wouldn’t have said that, Caden. They just wouldn’t have.”
“Next!” calls a man in blue overalls. We pay at the booth, then walk toward the carriage. I climb in first and sit down on the wooden bench. Dyl sits down beside me, closer than he needs to. I guess it’d be pretty hard to explain this away as a coincidence, but oh well, it’s too late now. The small booth rocks forward, then swings back. I grip the railing tight, and my sweaty palms cool against the metal.
Dyl laughs. “You look so scared, man. Have you ever been on one of these?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
Caden, what the hell are you doing? I left for a while and now I’m back and you’re doing this? Why? Don’t you know that this looks a hell of a lot like a date?
So what if it is, Kaylee?
Talk to me like that again and I’ll …