Then the Kois left. It was only Benji and Rebecca now, as it always was. Rebecca made her rounds through the house, shutting off the bright lights. The red tint vanished, replaced by the usual gray fog of normality. “Did something happen between you two? You can tell me the truth.”
“I don’t know anything about Nina,” he said, and that was all it took for Rebecca to believe him. She poured herself a glass of water. “Why were you home so late again?”
There it was, the lecture he was waiting for.
“I was with Sam and Chloe.”
She wrapped her hands around the cold glass. “You need to tell me these things ahead of time. How do I know if something happened to you?” She took a sip of water. “I want you heading straight home as soon as that bell rings, alright?”
“You know, I could get home faster if I had a bike.”
“You could get hurt.”
“Everyone at school has one except me.”
“You don’t get it, Benji.” Rebecca smiled gently. “What do you wanna eat? Are you cold? I’ll make some—”
“I’ll have cereal.”
“The sugar content is—”
“Look, the festival’s tomorrow.” Benji stood on his toes and selected his favorite bowl from the cabinet. “If you’re gonna make me go, just give me a break tonight.” He was about to slam it onto the countertop, but stopped himself. His fingers loosening, he set the bowl delicately onto the granite.
“You should be proud to go. It’s in honor of Scott this year.”
“Yeah, another reminder that he’s gone.” Benji retrieved a box of chocolate flakes from the cabinet. “Sounds fun.”
“That’s not what it’s—”
“You know you can say it.” Benji faced her. “Hiding pictures in the back cabinet doesn’t magically make me think he never existed.”
“I want what’s best for you.”
“And that’s why I could never join the soccer team? Because you want what’s best for me?”
“Soccer is dangerous. You could get hurt.”
“No, Mom. I know he loved soccer.” The picture flashed through his mind. His father standing in front of Wishville Elementary’s field with a goofy grin and a soccer ball under his arm. He saw it a million times. Not when Rebecca was home, of course. It was in a chipped frame, tossed in a cabinet beneath their living room radio.
“Benji, you’re all I have left of him.”
“Well I’m not Dad!” He grabbed the cereal box, pausing as his fingers wrapped around the edge. “I’m just . . . me.”
Rebecca sipped her water, watching him through the bottom of the glass. She gulped and set the cup on the counter. “I think we both need some rest. It’s been a long day.” She gave Benji a soft tap on the shoulder before entering the hall. “You’ll have fun tomorrow. Promise.”
Benji shut his eyes, hoping to cleanse the stress from his mind. He’d deal with the festival tomorrow, but for now, all that mattered was the bowl of cereal. Chocolate flakes had been his favorite for as long as he could remember. When Rebecca allowed him to eat these empty calories, he always made it count. There was a specific way he prepared it. A recipe he’d been perfecting for years.
First, the flakes. He’d fill them nearly to the brim, then seep the milk halfway. The milk was the secret. Too little and the flakes were too dry. Too much and it become soggy too fast.
After his perfect bowl was poured, he stuck a spoon inside and headed to his room, shutting off the last kitchen light.
As Benji sat at his desk that night, eating his dinner, he couldn’t help but think of Nina.
He set his spoon in the bowl and leaned back, gazing at the ceiling. “Sorry for what?”
Eventually, the question vanished from Benji’s mind, and he resumed his meal in silence.
CHAPTER 3
festival
About a month ago, Mayor Perkins had knocked on their door, requesting to speak with Rebecca. He wore a charming smile as he entered their home, announcing that this year’s end-of-spring festival would be dedicated to Scott Marino. Each year it was dedicated to someone new, usually a person who contributed to the town. Last year’s was for a man named Greg Shirley, whom most people had never heard of, but apparently led the project of building the town square generations ago.
“If it weren’t for Scott’s ten-day experiment, we wouldn’t know the truth about how dangerous it is to leave,” the mayor said.
Hearing about this special dedication had only encouraged Benji to follow through with his plan. He had decided to leave town before the festival, on May 4th, but now it was May 6th, and he was still here. He had grown so used to the idea of being gone by the festival that the thought of attending after his failed escape made him nauseous. He did everything to resist. Faked being sick. Claimed he had homework. Pretended he was too exhausted in the morning in hopes that Rebecca would let him sleep in. Unfortunately, Benji had no skills in lying, and Rebecca dragged him into the crowded town square without hesitation.
It was the heart of Wishville. A giant block of concrete with a fountain in the middle and a wooden platform at the end, all backed by a wall of redwood trees protecting them from the icy ocean. The entirety of the courtyard was sandwiched between two rows of brick buildings. Clumps of restaurants, book stores, and tiny boutiques. They were spaced only a couple of feet apart, making the area interesting for a game of tag. As long as one could fit between buildings without getting stuck.
Seaside Cafe was busier than usual. Many had decided to get a hot cup of coffee before the festival began. Next to the cafe was Ms. Camille’s flower shop, deserted, with a closed sign hung on the window. She would never choose work over such a special occasion. And across from the cafe was Chowdies. Slightly less populated, but perhaps some people were more in the mood for Wishville’s famous clam chowder than a warm drink.
Musicians stood on the raised platform in the courtyard, legs spread wide and chins held high. The employees at Chowdies filled the room, excited for their double payday. Attending the festival wasn’t mandatory, but everyone went by choice. That is, everyone except the man on Eudora Hill. Oliver Stricket, they called him. His lack of presence went largely unnoticed, perhaps even appreciated by the few who thought of him.
This year’s festival was the same as Benji had always remembered it. Parents raided the discounted shops. Kids played tag, zipping between brick buildings and hiding behind strangers’ backs. One boy even managed to get onto the roof of Chowdies, which was a mystery for everyone. “We love the festival!” he shouted into the air, and his friends at the bottom giggled until their parents came to the scene and ordered him down immediately.
The musicians were playing some kind of ugly noise undeserving of being called a song. The lead singer hollered weird notes into the microphone, while the others strummed guitars or banged on the drums in a failed attempt at syncopation. Benji covered his ears. “We really have to be here?” The only thing he liked about the town festival was that the smell of hot dogs overpowered the stench of clams and salty wind.
Rebecca waved at everyone as they passed by. Even complimented one lady’s dress. Benji tried to slip away, but she grabbed his arm. “Stay close, okay? Stick with Sam and Chloe, but don’t let them drag you anywhere. And if the mayor talks to you, don’t say anything reckless. The last thing you want is—”
“Yeah Mom, I got it.” He ripped himself from her grip. “Where’s James?”
“The Kois aren’t coming this year.”
“What?” Benji stopped. “Why not?”
“Nina hasn’t been feeling well lately. She was transferred to the hospital this morning.”
“Hospital? It’s that serious?”
Rebecca spotted a friendly face in the crowd and finally left Benji on his own.
He assumed Sam was probably off with Chloe somewhere, so he h
eaded to the edge of the square, avoiding as many people as possible. Instead, he found Chloe. She was wearing a dress with a fuzzy jacket and had a mitt in her left hand. Across from her was their classmate, Jett Griffin, the last person Benji wanted to see at the festival. He was wearing his baseball uniform, most likely as a way to show off, except his cleats were subbed with sandals. A strange look for a strange kid.
“Benji! Sam was looking for you earlier.” Chloe raised her hand, and the ball went straight into it.
“Damn, you’re not too shabby, Mortimer.” Jett crossed his arms with a crooked smirk.
Benji tuned him out. “Where is she?”
“No clue, but if I had to guess, probably as far away from Audrey as possible.” Chloe chuckled. “Where’s James?”
He looked away. “He’s not coming.”
Jett shouted through cupped hands. “You gonna throw in the next few years?”
Chloe peeled her arm back, preparing to throw, but her focus was still glued to Benji. “Why not?”
“Nina’s in the hospital.”
Chloe threw the ball. In only a blink, Benji flinched from the shattering of glass and pottery against the concrete walkway. “The hospital? It’s that serious?” She saw the broken window and froze.
Jett lowered his empty mitt from the air, realizing he had missed the ball. He peeked through the gash in Ms. Camille’s flower shop and saw it lying on the floor, surrounded by dirt and toppled orchids. He ran a hand through his raven black hair and muttered a few words under his breath.
Benji paused at Chloe’s side, watching the scene. He had to work his hardest to keep from laughing at Jett’s frustration. He knew he should probably be concerned over the incident, but he couldn’t help it. Jett was always the cause of broken windows. A couple of years ago he had swung a baseball bat so hard it flew out of his hand and shattered the hallway window at school. The next day he was sweeping the classroom as punishment when he accidentally waved the metal dustpan right into the sky. And that was only the beginning of his career.
Benji leaned over Chloe’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “Why were you passing with Jett?”
“Come on, he’s really not a bad guy.” Her eyes traced the damage, and the crowd’s murmurs increased as news of the broken window spread. “It was my fault, not his. I was shocked, and my throw paid for it. Just kill me now and end my suffering.”
As much as Benji had tried to convince Chloe that Jett was an awful person, she never believed him. Of course she didn’t. Jett had a soft spot for everyone on the baseball and softball teams. What seemed like a threat to Benji could be perceived as a silly joke to Chloe.
It was only a matter of time before Ms. Camille came running through the square. Her curly white hair bounced around her hips, her heels clicking with obnoxious snaps. When her eyes met the flower shop, there wasn’t a dash of surprise in them. She crossed her arms and stared at Jett, waiting for an explanation.
“It wasn’t me this time.” He held his hands in the air. “I swear, it was Marino over there.”
Ms. Camille looked at Benji, and at that point, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He burst into laughter, and had to take a few steps away. It was normal for Ms. Camille to wear more makeup than even the youthful women in town, but today it was especially heavy. She always took measures to act younger than her age, spreading rumors over which men in town were buying flowers, theorizing all kinds of complex love stories to fill the void of her unmarried soul. Benji wasn’t sure what was more comical—the fact that she considered he might be capable of throwing a baseball into her window, or that a bit of lipstick was smeared on her teeth.
“Sorry.” Chloe combed her hair with her fingers. “It was me.”
Ms. Camille studied her three suspects, weighing the evidence. “I don’t care which one of you threw it. Be lucky the festival put me in a good mood.” She reached into her purse and tossed Jett a ring of keys. “There’s a dustpan in the back closet. Sweep this up, will you?” She slipped back into the crowd, leaving Jett with a red face.
“What are you laughing at, Marino?”
Benji managed to suppress most of his hysteria. “Don’t you have some glass to sweep?”
“She should’ve given the keys to you. I’m not the one who distracted Chloe.”
“And I’m not the one who missed the ball.”
Jett stepped toward him, yanking his mitt off his hand. “You’ve sure got a big mouth for the height of a fifth grader.”
“Do you guys really have to argue?” Chloe tossed Jett his second mitt, stopping him in his tracks. “It was my fault, okay? Let it go.”
She wasn’t taking either of their sides, and for Jett, that was win. He shot Benji a crooked smile.
“Greetings!” Mayor Perkins’ booming voice blasted through the square.
“Look.” Chloe hopped a few times, pointing to the stage. “He’s starting his speech.” She flew into the busy crowd and disappeared. Soon everyone from school was licking ice cream and crowding below the mayor’s stage. Adults came next. Nearly two thousand people crammed into the courtyard, fighting for a decent spot in the crowd. While Jett struggled opening the door to the flower shop, Benji avoided the rush. He planted himself along the outskirts of the crowd, peeking through gaps between towering adults.
“Today is a special day because it marks the ten-year anniversary of Wishville’s safety.” The crowd cheered, and Benji grew smaller. “One decade ago this town made a group decision to stay safe together, united. Since then we have not lost a soul to the border.”
More cheering. Benji watched the glowing faces in disgust.
“Exactly ten years and ten days ago, I lost my best friend to that very border.” His voice sent chills through Benji’s arms. Everyone listened carefully, and the silence among the masses was perhaps the most frightening part. “Wishville is a family. We stick together. We protect each other.” He smiled and made eye contact with as many people as possible. “Because a decade has passed, we are dedicating this year’s festival to Scott Marino. He will forever be remembered as the last to leave. Without him, Wishville might have never changed. Without him, our town would not be united.”
Benji’s stomach churned.
“This will be a great year.” The mayor gestured to the crowd. “My daughter, Samantha, is now in the eighth grade. We also have an amazing high school graduating class who will grow to do great things for Wishville. My three sons look up to them, and it will only be a matter of time before they too stand on that stage.”
Benji couldn’t take any more of it. He slipped out of the crowd and left the square.
* * *
Standing on the rocky sand, he watched the waves spring about in front of him. Each breath smelled like Wishville, and he was sick of it. He was sick of being stuck. He was sick of the festival. He was sick of thinking about his father. He tossed himself onto the sand and groaned at the sky. I’m sick of gray. A seagull zipped above him. I’m sick of seagulls.
Sam loomed over him before tossing a can onto his stomach. “What’s with the gloom?”
Benji flinched from the impact of the can. The condensation dripped over his lap as he sat, proving it was pulled right out of a cooler. “Why are you here?”
Sam sat next to him. “I wanna hear his speech as much as you do.” Her hair bubbled in the wind, frizzy as always. He could tell by her face that she was equally frustrated. “He thinks he’s so great, and everyone believes it.”
It was another one of her rants about Mayor Perkins being her father. If anything, she should consider it a privilege. He was the most likable man in town.
Not wanting to make her frustration any worse by commenting, Benji wiped his hands on his sweater and opened the soda. “Thanks.” He took a tiny sip before his reflexes yanked it away from him. Cherry. He winced. She knew he hated that flavor.
“Aw, leave me alone. It’s all they had.” She leaned back, propping herself up by extending her arms behind her. They smelled the salt in the air, the soft support of sand beneath them. A seagull landed, pecking at a package of peanuts that the wind had blown to the shore. “You haven’t been thinking about leaving again, have you?”
“I always am.” He watched the seagull carefully. It pecked until there were no more specks of peanuts on the sand, flapped its wings, and kicked off the ground into the sky. Benji could only see a hovering speck before he lost sight of it. “Can I ask you something?”
Sam opened her own soda, also cherry. “You can try.”
“Is James okay?” Benji drew shapes in the sand with his fingers. “Nina was taken to the hospital this morning. Sounds like she’ll be there awhile, but he hasn’t even mentioned her lately.”
“So that’s why he wasn’t at Blueberry.” She frowned. “What’s with the weird face?”
“Well . . . something weird happened last night.”
She sipped her soda. “Are you gonna tell me or what?”
“When I got home from Blueberry last night, James and Nina were there. She kept apologizing to me, and I have no idea why.”
“The Koi’s are weird. I gave up trying to understand them years ago.” She tapped her fingers against the can in sync with the latest song she’d been practicing. “She’s probably being overdramatic about something stupid.”
The two sat in silence for a while, an unnatural occurrence for Sam. They sipped their sodas and winced at the taste of artificial cherry. Benji could hear the musicians starting their ugly music back at the square, marking the end of the mayor’s speech. He was trying to decipher the lyrics when Sam spoke again. “You wanna talk about it?”
“About what?”
“Your dad.” Another sip. “Leaving Wishville. All that.”
Benji stood, kicked off his shoes, and removed his socks.
“Benji, it’s dangerous.”
Ignoring her, he ran to the shore and traced his toes along the freezing waterline. The damp sand and wind brushing against his face sent goosebumps to his arms. He took another step.
Leaving Wishville Page 3
