Punk 57 (6 page)

A few months ago, a jogger named Anastasia Grayson, who was only a year younger than us, was found dead on the side of this very road. She had a heart attack, although I’m not sure why. Like Ten said, it’s unusual for someone so young to die like that.

I’d written to Misha about it, to see if he knew her, since they lived in the same town, but it was in one of the many letters he never responded to.

Taking a right onto Badger Road, Lyla digs in her console and pulls out a tube of lip gloss. I roll down the window, taking in the crisp, cool sea air.

The Atlantic Ocean sits just over the hills, but I can already smell the salt in the air. Living several miles inland, I barely even notice it, but coming to the beach—or the Cove, the old theme park
near
the beach where we’re going—feels like another world. The wind washes over me, and I can almost feel the sand under my feet.

I wish we were still going to the beach.

“J.D.’s already here,” Lyla points out, pulling into an old, nearly deserted, parking lot. Her headlights fall on a dark blue GMC Denali sitting haphazardly in no designated space. I guess the paint marking where to park wore off long ago.

Waist-high weeds sway in the breeze from where they sprout up through the cracks in the pavement, and only the moon casts enough light to reveal what lies beyond the broken-down ticket booths and entrances. Looming still and dark, towers and buildings sit in the distance, and I spot several massive structures, one in the shape of a circle—most likely a Ferris wheel.

As I turn my head in a one-eighty, I see other similar constructions scattered about, taking in the bones of old roller coasters that sit quiet and haunting.

Lyla turns off the engine and grabs her phone and keys as we all exit the car. I try to peer through the gates and around the dilapidated ticket booths to see what lies beyond in the vast amusement park, but all I can make out are dark doorways, dozens of corners, and sidewalks that go on and on. The wind that courses through the broken windows sounds like whispers.

Too many nooks and crannies. Too many hiding places.

I pull up the sleeves of my hoodie, all of a sudden not feeling so cold. Why the hell are we here?

Looking to my right, I notice a black Ford Raptor sitting under a cover of trees on the edge of the parking lot, and the windows are blacked out. Is someone inside?

A shiver runs up my spine, and I rub my arms.

Maybe one of Trey’s or J.D.’s friends brought their own car tonight.

“Hoo, hoo, hoo,” a voice calls out, imitating an owl. I tear my eyes away from the Raptor, and we all look up in the direction of the noise.

“Oh, my God!” Lyla bursts out, laughing. “You guys are crazy!”

I shake my head as Ten and Lyla hoot and holler, running toward the Ferris wheel just inside the gate. Scaling the grungy yellow poles about fifty feet above us, between the cars of the old ride, is Lyla’s boyfriend, J.D., and his buddy, Bryce.

“Come on,” Lyla says, climbing over the guard rail toward the Ferris wheel. “Let’s go see.”

“See what?” I ask. “Rides that don’t run?”

She races off, ignoring me, and Ten laughs.

“Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me away from the ride.

I follow him as we head deeper into the park, both of us wandering down the wide lanes that were once packed with crowds of people. I look left and right, equal parts fascinated and creeped out.

Doors hang off hinges, creaking in the breeze, and moonlight glimmers off the glass lying on the ground beneath broken windows. The wind blows through the elephant and hot air balloon cars on the kids’ rides, and everything is hollow and dark. We walk past the carousel, and I see rain puddles sitting on the platform and dirt coating the chipped paint of the horses.

I remember riding that when I was little. It’s one of the only memories I have of my father before he split.

The yelling and squealing of our friends fade away as we keep walking farther into the park, our pace slowing as I take in how much still remains.

This place used to be full of laughter and screams of delight, and now it’s abandoned and left to decay alone, all of the joy it once contained forgotten.

A few short years. That’s all it’s been since Adventure Cove closed its gates.

But regardless, deserted and neglected, it’s still here. I inhale a deep breath, taking in the smell of old wood, moisture, and salt.
Deserted and neglected, I’m still here, I’m still here, I’ll always be here…

I laugh to myself.
There’s a song lyric for you, Misha.

I stroll behind Ten, thinking of all the musings I’ve mailed my pen pal over the years that he’s turned into songs. If he ever makes it big, he owes me royalties.

“Kind of sad,” Ten says, wandering past gaming booths and letting his hand graze the wooden frames. “I remember coming here. Still feels like it’s alive, doesn’t it?”

The night wind sweeps down the empty lanes between the booths and food stands, sending my fly-aways floating around me. The air wraps around my legs and blows against my sweatshirt, plastering it to my body like a skin as chills start to spread up my neck.

All of a sudden I feel surrounded.

Like I’m inside the still funnel of a violent tornado.

Like I’m being watched.

I cross my arms over my chest as I hurry up next to Ten. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to cover my jitters with annoyance.

He pulls at the shutter of one of the wooden gaming booths, and although it gives a little, it won’t lift completely due to the padlock keeping it shut. “Getting you a teddy bear,” he answers as if I should’ve known that.

“You really think they still have prizes in there after all these years?”

“Well, it’s locked, isn’t it?”

I chuckle and continue to watch as he grabs the side with both hands and heaves backward.

“J.D., stop it!” Lyla’s voice rings out in the distance, and I look up to see their dark forms still climbing the Ferris wheel.

“Aha!” Someone else laughs.

Ten gives up on the yanking and starts inspecting the lock, as if he can just pull it open, when I drop my gaze and notice the grungy and shredded red and white plastic table skirt underneath the shutter on the bottom half of the booth.

I lightly kick my foot out, seeing the plastic give way as it flaps back and forth, indicating Ten’s way in.

He stops, forgetting the shutter, and scowls at the skirt. “I knew that.”

“Then go get me a teddy bear,” I demand, giving him a small smile.

And he dips down on his hands and knees, mumbling as he crawls through the table skirt. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Use your phone for light!” I shout as he disappears inside.

“Duh.”

I laugh at his muffled attitude. Out of everyone I call a friend at school, Ten is the closest to the real deal. Not as close as Misha, but close. I don’t have to fake it much around him.

The only thing that holds me back from getting too attached to him is his friendship with Lyla. If I left the security of my fragile little circle, would he come with me?

I honestly don’t know.

“No teddy bears!” he calls. “But they have inflatables!”

Like beach balls?

“Are they still inflatable?” I joke.

But he doesn’t answer.

I lean in close to the shutter, training my ears. “Ten?”

I hear nothing.

The hair on my arms stand on end, and I straighten, calling again, this time louder. “Ten? Are you okay?”

But then something wraps around my waist, and I jump, sucking in a breath as a voice growls deep in my ear, “Welcome to the Carnival, little girl.”

My heart pounds in my ears, and I yank away, whipping around to find Trey holding a flashlight under his chin. The glow illuminates his face, emphasizing his devilish grin.

Jerk.

He smiles from ear to ear, his light-brown hair and cocoa eyes shining. Dropping the flashlight, he rushes up to me, and I barely have enough time to catch a breath before he dips down, lifts me off my feet, and tosses me over his shoulder.

“Trey!” I growl, his shoulder bone digging into my stomach. “Knock it off!”

He laughs, slapping me on the ass, and I cringe, feeling his hand graze down my thigh.

“Now, dumbass!” I shout, slapping him on the back.

He continues to chuckle as he sets me back on my feet, keeping his arm around my waist.

“Mmmm, come here,” he says as he backs me into the wall of the booth. “So you gotta taunt me, huh?” His knuckles brush the front of my bare thigh. “You wear that little cheerleading skirt at school, where I can’t touch you, and now when I can, you wear shorts.”

“What?” I play with him. “My legs look different in a skirt?”

“No, they look great either way.” He leans in, the beer on his breath making me wince a little. “I just can’t stick my hand up a pair of shorts.”

And then he tries to as if proving a point.

I knock his hands away. “Yeah, the thing is...” I say. “A
boy
whines. A man doesn’t let anything get in his way. Shorts or no shorts.”

His eyes fall down my body and raise again, boring into mine. “I want to take you out.”

“Yeah, I know what you want.”

Trey’s been flirting for a while, and I know exactly what’s on his mind, and it isn’t dinner and a movie. If I give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. I may not need a ring on my finger to have fun with someone, but I also don’t want to be a notch on his belt.

So I don’t give in to him. But I don’t reject him, either. I know what happened to the last girl who did that.

“You want it, too,” he shoots back, his wide shoulders and hard chest crowding me in. “I’m the shit, baby, and I always get what I want. It’s only a matter of time.”

I stare right through his ego, seeing a guy who toots his own horn, because he’s either afraid others won’t do it for him or he needs to remind himself how awesome he is. Trey Burrowes is a house of bricks balancing on a toothpick.

Something brushes my calf, and I look down just in time to see Ten crawling out from under the gaming booth. I move out of the way and push Trey back, noticing that Ten holds something in his hand.

“I got a sword,” he says, waving the plastic inflatable in front of us.

Trey snickers. “Yeah, me, too.”

And I swallow the bad taste in my mouth at his crude joke.

He turns away, growing quiet, his attention immediately drawn up to the Ferris wheel.

So easily distracted. So easily bored.

“Tell you what,” I say, speaking to Trey as I stroll over and hook an arm through Ten’s. “I’ll let you take Ten home.”

Trey jerks his head over his shoulder, looking at me like I’m crazy.

“And then you can take me home,” I finish, seeing his eyebrow arch in interest.

School ends in six weeks. I can fake this a while longer. I don’t want to go out with him, but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to a nasty rumor that’s not true plastered all over Facebook, either. Trey Burrowes can be nice, but he can be a real asshole, too.

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he turns back around.

“All you have to do is catch me,” I tell him, grabbing Ten’s hand. “So count to twenty.”

“Make it five,” Ten jokes, backing away with me. “He doesn’t know how to count to twenty.”

My stomach shakes with a laugh, but I hold it back.

Trey smirks, staring at me like I’m a meal he wants and nothing is going to stop him. And then he opens his mouth, slowly stepping toward us. “One…”

And at that warning, Ten and I spin around and dash for the back of the park.

We both laugh as we race down paths thick with wet leaves and fallen branches, and whip around broken booths. We pass the Orbiter, Log Flume, and Tornado, which I remember used to play a lot of Def Leppard.

The Zipper still stands, dark and rusted, and we weave through the old swings, the cold chains brushing against my arms. They squeak, probably giving away our position as I charge after Ten.

“In here!” he shouts.

I suck in a breath and follow as he dives into a small building that looks like it was meant for employees. Stepping into the darkness, I pull the door closed behind me and wince at the musty air that hits my nose.

Ten takes his phone out, lighting the room with his flashlight, and I do the same. The floor is littered with debris, and I hear a drip coming from somewhere.

But we don’t pause to explore. Ten heads for what looks like a stairwell, rounding the railing and taking a step down.

That’s weird. The stairs lead below, underground.

“Down there?” I breathe out, peering over the steel-green bars and seeing only pitch-black darkness below. Fear creeps in, sending chills down my spine.

“Come on.” Ten begins down the steps. “It’s only a service tunnel. A lot of theme parks have them.”