Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight

by Ann Mauren

  “And what about Trevor?”

  I was skeptical. There was no way she would choose me over him.

  I’d finally called her bluff. She looked away, avoiding my eyes.

  “I don’t know about that part, yet, El. He keeps avoiding the subject of college, so I guess we’ll see. Don’t you dodge me too. I need a straight answer, all right?”

  The look in her eyes was pleading.

  I nodded.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said as I scanned the list. “Maybe you’re right. I would love to be on my own…with you.”

  With you running my life instead of Monica.

  I laughed at the reversal that would represent.

  “That’ll be a valuable education in itself, won’t it? I wonder if that would count as a minor,” I mused out loud.

  She smiled hugely at my response, like she’d won or something.

  “So what did you bring me?” I asked, looking toward the brown grocery bag that came upstairs with us instead of into the kitchen.

  “Your favorites: Pop Secret with extra butter, Nestle Toll House chocolate chip cookie dough, and for breakfast, Peanut Butter Captain Crunch.”

  “I love you,” I said with deep feeling.

  “I know. And just think how good it’ll be this fall,” she said, trying to tempt my junk food loving inner child.

  “Yeah, I’ll miss all my classes while I sleep off the mother of all sugar comas, thanks to you,” I said.

  I scooped up one of her feet and started rubbing her toes with both hands, pulling and twisting them one by one.

  “Sam?” I was nervous about asking this next question.

  “Yeah?” she had lain back to enjoy an impromptu massage.

  “Do you think you and Trevor will ever get married?”

  I kept rubbing even though she didn’t answer me for a while.

  “Absolutely.”

  There wasn’t a hint of doubt in her tone. I looked up in surprise as my hands dropped her foot on the bed.

  “Are you two engaged?” I was instantly unsettled.

  She picked up on my turmoil and propped herself up with an arm, turning toward me.

  “Does that make you nervous?”

  “You’re engaged!?” I blurted out, definitely panicked.

  “I didn’t say that. But what if we were?”

  She was enjoying herself too much. I picked her foot back up and tickled it in retribution. She jerked it away and yelped in playful alarm at the same time.

  “Don’t do that to me! I need lots of notice before you two leave me. I’m serious,” I warned.

  She laughed and scooted to the end of the bed, taking my hands in hers.

  “Do you think that when I’m married to Trevor we won’t be friends anymore?”

  I shook my head.

  “No. We’ll always be friends, I know. But things will be different. I mean…I’ll be totally happy for you and everything. Trevor’s awesome. But you two will need time to be…you two…not…we three.”

  I sighed and smiled at her, trying to be reassuring.

  “When I’m on my own more, I know I’ll start wishing I had what you have. You’re so happy and in love. I want that too. It’s hard for me sometimes.” I laughed and continued, “You scared me just now. I thought I had lots of time to get used to the idea of Mrs. Samantha Redmond.”

  She laughed too and squeezed my hands.

  “Okay. Here’s the deal. He asked me if I would marry him…someday…and I said yes, someday. There’s no ring, no date, nothing official. I’m going to go to school, he’s going to work and save up some money. Then, in a couple of years we’ll tie the knot. Does that meet with your approval?”

  I reached over and hugged her tight.

  “Oh Sam! That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you. I knew this was going to happen. The first day he came…I knew it then.”

  She reached up and smoothed a tear off my cheek. I was surprised at myself.

  “These are tears of joy, right?” she asked, unconvinced.

  I tried to wipe my face with my forearm and nod in the affirmative at the same time.

  “Don’t be sad, El,” she said, hugging me back. “Right now there’s a boy out there wishing for you just like you’re wishing for him. You’re both on paths that will cross someday, just like mine did with Trevor’s.”

  My path crossed with one boy’s all the time already. But it was probably too much to hope for some kind of destiny with him.

  She patted my shoulders and then reached up to push my hair behind my ears.

  “So here’s the plan: Keep rolling. That day will be here before you know it, and when it finally happens, all this fun we’ve had on the way there will be just like hors d'oeuvres before the main course, or like fun stop offs on the road trip of destiny. You’ll see. There’s plenty of happy to be had right now, all along the way. Speaking of which, do you want popcorn or cookies?”

  She reached over and picked up the grocery bag.

  “Popcorn. Is there any Cherry Coke in there to go with it?” I asked, jokingly.

  To my delight, she pulled out a couple of the small size twelve ounce bottles. They were still pleasingly cold.

  “Here’s to destiny,” she said.

  Then she opened her bottle and took a sip. I took a sip of mine too, and smiling big I added, “And sugar comas.”

  Chapter 15 – King's Island

  It was the third Friday in April. My mom was very pleased with the arrangements I’d made to spend the weekend with Sam. Sometimes it was difficult to gauge who was happier that I had a best friend now, my mom or me. When I’d first introduced Ms. Sun to my parents, I’d been careful to do so only after it was well established that my new friend was the highlight of my life. That way when they met her, out of pity for me and a desire to keep me happy, no matter what the cost, they would smile and be pleasant to my horrifying Goth girlfriend, instead of diving in front of me like secret service agents when they saw her for the first time.

  But just like with any truly good person, the shell seems to become less and less important as the inner core becomes more and more apparent. Sam was extremely mature and easy going and engaged my mom’s affections instantly. Her being good to me was truly all that was necessary, though…and she excelled at that.

  I suppose Mom thought that we were just going to hang out at Sam’s after school and then have a sleepover. She didn’t ask for specifics and I didn’t offer them. The real plan was to cut school and head to Mason, Ohio, a northern suburb of Cincinnati, and the home of King’s Island amusement park.

  I had been extremely skittish about cutting class and leaving the state overnight, but it was in the name of fun and Sam was counting on me. Her insistence that I always be present when Trevor was around had never diminished, and with a hotel reservation mixed into the plans, she’d made it clear that my presence was mission critical. She didn’t use the term, but eventually it dawned on me that I was their chaperone.

  Goths needed chaperones?

  Mine did, apparently. Maybe it was the ‘sophistication’ I added to the trio. Probably it was that they needed a normal looking person to represent them in front of the authorities. Whatever the draw, I was, as always, flattered and grateful to be included.

  A day at King’s Island was the opposite of my idea of a good time, but I simply couldn’t say no to them. Though, I had made it clear that I would only ride one roller coaster one time. And that if I even sensed the mental vibration of coercion to do any more than that I would hide from them the rest of the day until the fireworks at ten o’clock.

  Leaving the house at our normal time for school put us at the park at exactly the time when the gates were opening. I had debated about how I could let my security people know my plans, but short of writing a leave-behind confession in a diary, there didn’t seem to be a way to tip them off appropriately. Instead I decided to let them earn their keep and scramble, the way they would if I didn’t know about them. So wh
en our car took the ramp toward I-71 north, instead of staying straight on our way to school, I knew that several people were on their way to having a bad day…or maybe just an interesting one...hopefully. Unfortunately, nobody would have time to pack clean underwear or a toothbrush.

  They had those things in Ohio, right?

  Because it was a weekday, the crowd was sparse, though some people had come to celebrate their Spring Break. Neither Sam nor Trevor had ever been there before and they were both very excited about the opportunity to ride everything with absolutely no waiting. Though I felt sick with dread, I dutifully marched them straight into Rivertown, the neighborhood of the park that was the residence of ‘The Beast.’ It was a fitting introduction to their experience at King’s Island.

  For a person who hated roller coasters so much, I still proved to be an excellent source of historical and technical information about the world’s most famous roller coaster. I explained interesting details like the fact that it’s the longest roller coaster in the USA and the longest wooden roller coaster in the world, sprawling over thirty-five acres, and producing a ride that tops out at nearly seventy miles an hour, but still takes over four minutes to complete. Some forty million riders had experienced The Beast since it first opened in April of 1979. As of this morning it would be forty million and three.

  Though they thought I was humoring them, which certainly worked to my advantage, I had other reasons for riding The Beast. It was a connection to the past, and to my father and grandfather, who had indoctrinated me with all the technical data related to this attraction. Both of them were G force junkies, and this ride provided three G’s on the big one hundred forty-one foot drop of the first hill. I always rode with my eyes closed and this day was no exception. In fact it was a helpful way to facilitate the fantasy that I was riding with my dad by my side, instead of Trevor. It was bittersweet. The last time I’d ridden it on a cool spring day like this, my pilot dad was holding my hand, hooting and hollering like a kid. The discomfort was worth the memory, though, and surprisingly, I didn’t cry—because of the discomfort or the memory.

  Once my duty was fulfilled, I took up residence at a table in the sun near the food court area of Rivertown. They hurried off to experience the Diamondback roller coaster and its seventy-four degree two hundred fifteen foot drop.

  No thank you.

  I’d been itching for a chance to read my latest paperback purchase, the third book in a best-selling series—a story about a teenager like me and her dark and mysterious love interest, an older man who also happened to be a vampire. Apart from the supernatural, there were some seriously relatable factors at play here.

  Sam had recommended the story when we first met, back in the fall. It wasn’t normally my kind of story, and I wasn’t inclined to read anything remotely romantic at that time, but she assured me that I would love it—which of course I did—until I got to the second book in the saga. The story took an unexpected turn down heartbreak highway and I could barely get through it. In fact, when I realized that the hero was planning on leaving the heroine for her own safety, I wanted to jump into the story and warn her, suggesting that she take off on him instead, and see how he liked being left high and dry. I even designed an exit strategy for her, because after researching it I learned that Forks, Washington actually does have a Mailboxes Etc. in town.

  When I had angrily confronted Sam about the upset the turn in the plot had caused me, she said, “Ellery, the sad part of the story is important. It makes the happy parts…happier.”

  “Well, can I skip it or will I miss too much?” I countered still very miffed.

  “Yeah, you’ll just miss whatever you skip.”

  Her logical assessment along with my own burning curiosity helped me muscle through the unpleasant parts of the second installment. The story was very well written, but the stunningly accurate descriptions of the feelings that go with losing a loved one and losing the future you’d planned to have with them were nearly too much for me.

  Ultimately, Sam was right, and by the end of the story, things had gotten back on track, more or less. I was eager to see where things would lead in the third book of the saga, blocking out all sensation of where I was to escape into a much more interesting and enjoyable fictional landscape.

  The scopophobic sensation, however, could not be blocked. I fought it for a while, but then I had to look up. Even a normal person would do that periodically, I told myself, if for no other reason than to look around for her friends. So I allowed myself brief glances at regular intervals. I smiled internally with slightly pernicious satisfaction over the fact that the security team would have to work extremely hard to stay out of site today, since practically no one was here besides the Goths and the attraction operators, and the cashier at the Steak Fry and Funnel Cake shack.

  The Goths were aglow with excitement and pleasure from all the death defying amusement they’d been hopping around to, unimpeded by others getting in the way trying to do the same. This really was the right time to come. Besides there being no line at any ride, it was also quiet and nice for reading. The fact that I’d paid forty-eight dollars to do so was just part of the ‘stupid tax’ for which my abnormalities and insecurities and preferences made me constantly liable.

  I had explained to Sam in the car on our way north about the concept of ‘framily’. In life, you can’t choose your family. And sometimes certain family members aren’t necessarily your friends. But you can choose your friends, and when you love them as much as family, that makes them framily.

  It was my sad and pathetic little way of explaining how much I loved them. They liked it, though, and agreed about all of it—especially the part about the family not always being friends, an obvious side effect of life as a Goth…or maybe the cause?

  Throughout the day I would take breaks from my book to join them on Ellery-approved, and therefore totally lame rides and attractions like Scooby-Doo and the Haunted Castle, the Grand Carousel and the king of lame rides, the King’s Island and Miami Valley Railroad. There was lots of vindictive pleasure to be had in making everyone ride in a circle at five miles an hour around the park on an old fashioned train ride. But they did it anyway, because despite all that was backwards and unlikely and lame about me, I was still, after all, framily.

  Chapter 16 – Great Wolf

  We didn’t stay at King’s Island until it closed at ten o’clock. Thank goodness for that. There are only so many times you can ride roller coasters with no waiting, over and over again, until you get bored with it…even if you are mentally unbalanced enough to enjoy riding them in the first place.

  We finally pulled away from King’s Island around four o’clock and pulled in right next door to our hotel, Great Wolf Lodge. Once inside our room that had three queen size beds, one of which was positioned in a cool upstairs loft, with its own bathroom up there, we took turns cleaning up.

  Sam went first in our shared bathroom and Trevor used his own private facilities in the loft area. I was surprised when he came down looking completely normal. I’d seen him this way only very rarely…just a few times during the winter. It was a little unsettling because it wasn’t what I was used to, though he was so incredibly handsome I felt sure I could get used to it pretty quickly.

  Why couldn’t they both just be gorgeous all the time? But then again, how would I feel about myself if they were? Makeup notwithstanding, I would always be the odd one out, but it would still be worth it. They both had their reasons for going Goth, though, and I loved them no matter how scary or gorgeous they chose to be.

  I was sitting on my bed digging in my wallet and dumped out a handful of change. I had noticed a pop machine in the hallway on our way in, and I wanted to get a bottle of Cherry Coke that I could stash in the refrigerator for later. As I carefully picked through the coins, I separated out the quarters I would need for my drink from the special quarters (state quarters) I hadn’t had the chance to review and isolate since I’d received them in change earlier in
the day. I’d been distracted at the time thinking I’d seen Ash, but it was a false and disappointing alarm.

  It happened after lunch, during a Goth free period, after I’d just bought a cherry Icee at the concession stand. I felt the eyes on me and glanced up in a different direction so that I could get a quick peripheral view. It was a young man with medium length curly black hair and light coffee colored skin sitting at one of the tables on the far side of the food court, facing me. My heart skipped a beat as I raced in my mind to explain why Ash would show himself so plainly, looking directly at me, after months of careful, but not always successful concealment.

  I couldn’t come up with an answer that made any sense, but I was thrilled any way and turned my gaze directly at him, only to be deeply disappointed by the face of a stranger. This face wasn’t handsome at all. It featured a disproportionately large nose, beady dark eyes and a scruffy goatee. It was a huge let down, like black licorice instead of dark chocolate. Plus, moving the encounter even deeper into dissatisfaction was the dawning realization that he was leering at me, intentionally moving his eyes up and down my body until they rested back on my face. Then he took long drag on a cigarette and stood up like he was coming over.

  The warning bells in my mind were ringing furiously as I scurried away in a panic to the Ladies’ Room, as if that would actually deter a bad guy. I hung out for a while inside the handicapped stall with my feet up, all alone, listening intently. No one ever came in, either to use the facilities or to accost me, and after a good five minutes of cowering, I summoned the courage to step out into the sun again. I’d given myself a pep talk about not being paranoid and trusting the security people to do their job, and how cool it would be to see someone like that guy get his butt kicked, possibly by Ash! That last line of reasoning had me rushing out the door actually hoping it wasn’t too late to run into creepy goatee guy. But alas, I never saw that character again, though I was on high alert the rest of the day.