Playing with Fire

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  ***

  Reid was right about the coffee, but Kayla was right about the food, so it’s a toss-up. There is definitely something to be said for the greasy-spoon restaurant with its bright yellow booths and greenish walls. The waitress, whose name tag actually reads “Flo,” is sweet and keeps the coffee coming. I don’t drink coffee often, but it is warm and good, and by the time we leave, I’m feeling a touch jittery.

  The Circle is about a twenty-minute drive away, so it’s dark by the time we arrive. I’m almost afraid we’re lost when, over the horizon, a sparkling, twinkling, well-lit wonderland emerges. We park a few blocks down the boardwalk and hike back to the large roundabout that is known simply as the Circle. There’s a Ferris wheel, some bumper boats, and even go-karts. It’s like a circus that never leaves town. People laugh and music crackles through overhead speakers, not quite drowning out the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

  It’s amazing.

  “So what do you want to do first?” Reid asks, turning to me.

  I stare in wonder at the rides and games, trying to decide. It’s so crowded and so bright that I can’t quite take it all in. “Let’s ride the big wheel. I want to see this from up high,” I suggest.

  He breaks into a pleased grin and leads me to the line.

  “Heights aren’t really my thing,” Kayla says apologetically before tugging Derek by the hand and vanishing into the crowd.

  I wonder if she’s truly afraid of heights, or whether it’s just her not-so-subtle way of giving Reid and me some privacy. I cringe internally. Reid is handsome, sweet, and genuinely fun. So what is my problem? Just go for it, the before voice whispers in my head. I smile, forcing myself to relax.

  “So, I have to ask, your name, Farris, is there a story behind that?” he asks.

  I shake my head, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “No, it’s not Ferris like Ferris wheel. It’s from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. My mom had a thing for the movie.”

  Reid hands our tickets to the burly ride operator and helps me into a seat with his hand at the small of my back. As he closes the metal rail over our laps, I see a familiar face in the crowd. It was the small, blonde girl, Oliver’s sister, sitting on a bench eating an ice cream cone. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn she was looking right at me. I don’t have time to stare at her for long because soon we are being lifted into the sky. I turn my eyes away for just a second, watching the reflection of the lights dancing on the crisp water rolling in and out on the sand beyond, and when I look back, she’s disappeared into the sea of people beneath me. If she is here, does that mean Oliver is here somewhere, too? Is it possible the game is over already?

  “Are you okay? You look distracted,” Reid observes.

  “I thought I saw Oliver’s sister down there. I can’t remember her name.”

  “It’s Georgia. Like the state,” he says with a slight frown.

  “That’s right. Sorry, it was bugging me. I’m kinda bad with names.”

  He’s still frowning. This is gonna kill me, I decide, taking a deep breath.

  “Okay, what’s the deal with you two?” I demand, folding my arms over my chest. “I was gonna stay out of it, but it’s obviously the huge woolly mammoth in the room. So, I think I deserve to know.”

  “Who? Me and Georgia?” he asks, looking stunned.

  “No, you and Oliver. What’s with all the animosity? You two get within three feet of each other and the tension gets thick enough to drown in.”

  Reid leans forward, rocking the small cart. We are almost at the top of the wheel, the salty breeze from the nearby beach dancing in my hair. I wish I’d put it in a ponytail instead of letting it hang free, but the wind feels good, even as it tumbles my hair into gentle knots.

  Finally, Reid turns, looking straight into my eyes as he speaks. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I know you like him, and I didn’t want to come off as a jerk or anything. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but it has to stay between us.”

  His tone is clipped, but his expression is still hesitant, as if he wants to tell me, but also doesn’t want to. Must be serious, I realize, giving Reid a brisk nod.

  He relaxes back into the seat, turning his eyes to the cloudy sky above us and begins. “We used to be best friends when we were little. Oliver’s dad is a Navy doc stationed here, so they don’t move around like the rest of us. We used to make mud pies in his backyard.” He smiles sadly at the memory. “I moved away when I was six, and then after my parents’ tour in California was over, we got stationed back here again.”

  With a deep sigh, he leans forward, clasping his hands over the railing. “I was fourteen by then, and I thought we’d be friends again, just like we were before. It was freshman year and he was the new superjock on the football team. At first, he acted like he didn’t even know me. He was always in some kind of trouble, fighting mostly. He used to pick on me mercilessly for anything he could think of. One day, I caught up with him in the locker room after gym class. He was taking pills out of a prescription bottle with the label torn off. When he saw me, he shoved them into his locker and slammed it shut. When I asked what he was doing, he freaked out. Said it was none of my business and that if I said anything about it, he’d make my life a living hell.”

  Wow. “Did you ever find out what the pills were?”

  He shakes his head. “I figured he was taking something illegal. Steroids or something. Who knows? The crazy thing was, I didn’t even care. I just wanted my friend back.” He pauses, his eyes sweeping the crowd below. “I went to his house that night, to…I dunno. Make up or apologize. Something. Georgia was there. She’s a year older than us, you know, and she’d always been nice to me. Anyway, I told her about the pills and she called me a liar, slapped me in the face and told me to get out before she called the cops. Oliver showed up right about then, and he wailed on me for a while before literally kicking me out the front door. And that was that.”

  I try to process his story. It seems so different from the person I know now, but then, how well do I really know Oliver at all? “Wow.” I’m not sure there’s anything more I can say.

  He shrugs. “Thing is, I swore I’d never say anything. He may be a total dick now, but he wasn’t always.”

  I nod, an unspoken vow of silence. Steroids? Pain killers? Something else? Was he still using or had he gotten clean? The ride is going full swing now, which is still painfully slow. My mind races; I want my body to be moving fast, too. Maybe it will help me process what he’s just told me. I try to shrug it off, for now. No reason to spoil a perfectly good evening by stressing about things I can’t deal with right now anyway.

  I want to thank Reid for trusting me, for telling me the truth, but I don’t. I look at him, my expression soft but serious. “Go-karts next?” I ask.

  He laughs, the tension falling off him like shedding water. “Whatever you want, Farris.”

  We hook back up with Derek and Kayla and ride the go-karts, get some smoothies and walk on the beach, carefully avoiding the nearly invisible fiddler crabs scurrying underfoot in the intermittent moonlight. Reid and I talk about books, bands, and cars. I check my phone only once, for the time, and see a missed call from an unknown number. Clicking it off, I slide it back into my pocket.

  The noise from the Circle fades into the distance as we amble along the water’s edge. The beach is practically empty as we make our way past the shops and bustle of the boardwalk. The full moon sparkles where it reflects atop the quivering water for a few moments before once more being swallowed by the dark sky. Realizing we’ve lost sight of Derek and Kayla, we sit down, taking off our shoes and letting the cold, foamy surf roll up onto our feet.

  “Did you have a good night?” he asks, lifting his face skyward.

  I nod. “I really did. Thanks. And thank you for being honest with me before.”

  He tilts his head. “No one is perfect, you know? We all have our issues. But it really sucks to lose a friend.” He ta
kes a breath, holding it before blowing it out hard. “And when a friend turns on you, it’s the worst thing ever. Because then it’s war, and they know just where to hit you. They know where all your weak spots are.”

  Boy, don’t I know it.

  “Ferris wheel. That’s what they called me. You know, like, everyone gets a ride.” I take a deep breath of my own, doodling in the sand with my finger so I don’t have to meet his gaze when he looks back to me. “It wasn’t true, of course, just another way to make me suffer. There was this party freshman year, it turned into an ugly night, and I had to make a judgment call. Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing,” I admit. “I’ve never told anyone about this—well, except my therapist. But sometimes I wonder, if I could do it again, would I make the same choice? And if I say no, what kind of person does that make me?”

  I feel his hand on mine, stilling it from completing the next circle in the sand. Glancing up, I meet his eyes. “You can’t second-guess yourself. We all have to make decisions, and sometimes they suck and we screw things up six ways to Sunday. But those choices define us, show us who we are. All we can do is our best.”

  In that heartbeat, I feel a spark, a connection I can’t quite explain. Like he understands me. Not just the face I show to everyone else, but the stuff underneath, all the screwed-up stuff, the damaged-beyond-repair stuff, the ugly stuff I can’t bring myself to admit. It’s like he sees it, and there’s no judgment.

  The relief floods me like a tidal wave. I didn’t realize how badly I needed someone to understand, someone to hold my hand and tell me it was ok. I was ok. Staring into his gentle, blue eyes, I imagine, just for a moment, leaning forward and placing a kiss on his velvety lips. I might not have been able to control the urge if not for Kayla and Derek appearing behind us. Hearing them, he turns away, and the spell is broken. I blink, as if coming out of a trace. He squeezes my hand once before standing and dusting the sand off his butt. I follow suit.

  “You guys ready to go?” Derek asks. “Kayla has a midnight curfew.”

  By the time we reach the car, I’m so tired, and I decide to let Reid drive home. Maybe it was the sleepless nights I’ve been having all week, or the sheer emotional exhaustion at finally sharing my secret with someone, but either way, I am spent. Handing over my keys to Reid earns me a look of surprise from Kayla.

  “You okay?” she asks, thrusting a hand to my forehead.

  I nod blearily. “Just tired.”

  We drop Derek and Kayla off at Kayla’s house. Apparently, Derek slept over often, less a romantic situation than an emotional one, if I had to guess. Reid offers to drive me home and walk back to his house, but I refuse. The last thing I want is for him to have to walk home in the dark, autumn chill.

  We pull into his driveway just before midnight, which meant I’d be a solid five minutes late on my own curfew.

  “Well, thanks. I had a really good time tonight,” I say, climbing back into the driver’s seat.

  “Me, too. You wanna hang out tomorrow?” he asks. “Cassy is coming over to watch movies around three.”

  Part of me really wants to say yes. Being with him and the others tonight, I’d felt more normal than I have in a really long time. Still, I know Cassy is looking for a little one-on-one time so I bite my lip. “I can’t. Maybe another time?”

  “Sure. See you later.” His head droops just a little. “And, whatever you have going on with Oliver, just…just be careful. Maybe he’s changed, maybe he’s just an asshole to me, but if he ever did anything to hurt you…” He doesn’t finish the thought.

  I press my lips into a flat line and tilt my head in a silent thank you.

  Patting the hood of the car once, he turns on his heel and walks up his porch steps, flicking the light off behind him as he goes inside.

  In the five minutes it takes me to get home, my brain hits hyperdrive. I believe Reid is telling me the truth about Oliver, about what he saw, but at the same time, I’d been wrong jumping to conclusions before, and I don’t want to do it again. Maybe I can just talk to him about it, find some clever way of bringing it up. Or maybe I’ll just be cautious, keep my eyes open and my guard up. It’s just hard since anytime I get around him, my IQ drops twenty points.

  I sigh, clutching the wheel even after I’ve parked and removed the key from the ignition, and stare into the dark front window of my house. Only a faint flicker of white light tells me Dad is home and awake, no doubt waiting for me.

  So how sick is it that despite all that, despite the fact I’d very nearly thrown myself at Reid not an hour ago, despite my reservations about Oliver’s character, that I’m still looking forward to spending the day with him tomorrow? What does that say about me?

  That night I dreamed.

  Reid and I are on the Ferris wheel, only the park is empty, eerily still against the veil of darkness. There’s a sound, a low, rhythmic heartbeat that seems to make the air around us contract with each beat. We aren’t moving, just sitting at the very top, the metal rail across my lap holding me in place. Reid has his fingers in my hair, his body pressing firmly against mine as our mouths connect. Then there’s a feeling, an odd tugging inside my mind as if someone is watching me, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I pull back and Reid trails kisses down my neck, ignoring me. I search for a face in the darkness. Praying it isn’t Oliver, I squint, scanning the tangle of sidewalks below us. Please, not Oliver, I think. The idea of him seeing me kissing Reid is making me frantic, though I’m not completely sure why.

  Finally, my eyes lock onto the single upturned face. It’s Georgia, Oliver’s sister.

  She’s standing beneath us, pointing at me and shouting, but even though there is no other sound, I can’t hear her. Leaning further away from Reid, I strain to hear, to try to make out the curve of her mouth, hoping to guess at her words, but it’s no use. I turn back to Reid, looking for help, but he’s gone. Now alone in the darkness, I sit, paralyzed with fear as the tiny cart rocks precariously, the unseen press of the heartbeat growing until I can feel it in my bones.

  Georgia is gone now, too, I realize dreamily. Carefully sliding out from under the bar, I climb down the side of the ride, jungle-gym style. It feels like I’m descending forever. My arms ache, sweat rolling down my face and stinging my eyes. How tall is this damn thing? Looking down, I see a new face staring up at me. My mother, her long hair billowing around her face, is looking up at me, disappointment in her eyes. I try to cry out to her. Help me! I shout inside my head, no voice passing my lips. Georgia walks over and my mother puts a hand on her shoulder as she points up at me and says something I can’t hear.

  Tears burn my eyes. I fumble through the bars, nearly losing my grip. Near the bottom of what was now a dangerously high ladder, my foot slips. I start to fall when a hand shoots down from above me and latches onto my arm. When I looked up, it’s Oliver’s smiling face above me. He’s saying something that sounds like “I’ve got you.” Suddenly, Reid is beside him, his hand clamping onto my other arm. A crack of lighting streaks across the sky, blinding me for a heartbeat before the rolling boom of thunder echoes in my ears. Rain begins to pour, cold and stinging my bare flesh. The boys fight to hold me, tugging me back and forth between them. I try to scream, but it’s swallowed by another roll of thunder. My arms wet, the rain rolls off me, and I slip from both their grips. The last thing I remember is falling into an abyss of dark, churning water.

  ***

  The next morning, I wake up to my father’s voice. “Get up, sleepyhead, breakfast!”

  Groaning, I kick my covers off, slip into my fluffy, purple robe, and shuffle to the kitchen, fully prepared to complain about being summoned so early on a Saturday. But as I round the corner, I freeze, taking a good ten seconds to process what I see. My father is fully dressed in his uniform, with a camouflaged apron that reads Grillmaster in white letters tied over it. He’s serving a stack of fresh pancakes to someone seated at our table. Though part of me recognized him even from the bac
k of his head, it’s not until he turns and catches sight of me that the real horror sinks in.

  Oliver.

  With a very girlie yelp, I spin and press my back against the hallway wall. Laughter rolls out from the other room from both of them. Part of me wants to stride back in, chin up, and pretend I don’t care that he just witnessed my bed-head and ratty grey pajama pants. The other part of me really wants to go brush my teeth and put on a bra.

  It wins out.

  “Just a minute!” I yell, making a beeline for the bathroom and slamming the door closed behind me.

  What was Oliver doing here so early, anyway? I wonder, mentally cursing him as I rinse out the last bits of minty toothpaste.

  Pulling my phone from my robe pocket, I see it’s after nine. I overslept, but it feels like I was awake all night, kicking and screaming. My muscles ache and my throat is sore. Furiously, I tug on a pair of denim shorts and a black tank top, run a brush through my knotted hair, and pull it into a high ponytail. I slip into a pair of white low-top Chucks and tuck my wallet into my back pocket. Pausing at my door, I open it just a crack, straining to hear if they are talking. There are voices coming from the kitchen, but they are too muffled to make out.

  Oh, God. What is my father saying to him?

  I was going to put on a little makeup, but my priorities have quickly shifted from getting myself put together to not letting them be alone any longer. I’m practically sprinting back down the hall when Oliver steps out of the kitchen, too late for me to slow down. I hit him at full speed, but he manages to keep his feet, laughing.

  “Ouch! We could use a hitter like you on the line. You ever think of playing football?” he asks, holding me by my arms as he peels me off his chest.

  “I don’t do well with helmet hair,” I quip, recovering myself quickly. I look around him to my dad, who chuckles. “What are you boys talking about?” I say, looking back at Oliver suspiciously.

  His eyes widen, looking at me seriously. “Your dowry. I gotta say, three cows and a goat? I could do better.”