Of the Trees(9)

“No, sorry,” she stammered, stepping back.

He stepped with her.

She jumped again when a car horn blared and turned to see her father still parked there, his outline peering at her through the dark. A chuckle echoed from the shadows, and Cassie shivered, even in the unseasonable warmth.

“Got to go, sorry,” she said. The man stared, his head tilting slightly as he regarded her. He didn’t speak, and yet Cassie got the strange impression he was trying to communicate with her anyway.

“I don’t smoke,” she added, feeling like he was looking for more. He still didn’t react, just stared until she turned. She knew her father would still be watching her, so she walked toward the carnival, keeping the stranger to her back.

Cassie cried out as her foot caught and she stumbled, just managing to get her balance before she fell face first onto the gravel parking lot. She righted herself with a huff, anger sparking at the breath of laughter she heard from behind her, from the man that watched as she tripped over air.

Cassie moved quickly, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She let out a breath of relief when she got to the main entrance and was shuffled through. Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to her screen.



Patrick: In ok?



She typed back a quick reply to her father and waited a moment. He answered quickly.



Patrick: Make Ryan walk you to the car. Stay away from weirdos.



She tucked her phone away, craning her neck to look for the organ.





“You are so late,” Laney said, her voice raised over the calliope music. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and looked up at Cassie. They were standing in front of an old music player, one of those large organs built into a box with wood paneling. It was still on the back of a trailer, and it towered over both of them. Lights flashed, and an animatronic monkey slammed cymbals together while puppets with chipped paint sung in robotic voices.

“I know, the Sheridans got home late.”

“Serves you right,” Laney quipped before muttering under her breath, “Babysitting.”

“We had to meet in front of this thing?” Cassie asked, her face scrunched against the loud music. Laney grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the organ and further into the carnival.

“I knew you couldn’t miss it,” Laney said, shrugging. “Jon and Ryan are by the food.”

Cassie let her friend lead her through an aisle of loud and flashing games. The vendors slouched by the booths, not at all like in the movies. In the movies, they’d cat call and try to tempt you into playing for flashy prizes, but that’s not how this carnival worked. It was like that every year, though. Men, and some women, unshaven and looking like they hadn’t showered in a few days, came with trucks and trailers loaded down with shaky rides and booths with half the light bulbs broken. They spread out over the two-acre lot, cramming the booths on top of each other, spacing out the rides, and creating an aroma of fried food that wafted over the small town. Everyone came. It was tradition.

When she was little, Cassie always came with her parents. Her dad would sit on the rickety rides, whooping and hollering with her, while her mom watched from below. Cassie always thought her mom looked nervous, and now that she was older, she could understand why. Most of the rides looked like a strong breeze could tip them.

Cassie and Laney didn’t race from ride to ride anymore. They also didn’t normally bother with the games either—no one needed a moth-eaten, over-sized, stuffed Scooby Doo to carry around for the rest of the night. Still, she wouldn’t miss carnival night.

“Do you see Jessica Evans over there?” Cassie said, her voice lowered as she leaned into her friend. Laney craned her neck over the crowd. She was shorter than Cassie and had to stretch to her toes to see their classmate. Jessica was chatting up one of the vendors. He looked like he could be in his forties, his stomach hung unpleasantly over his belt, and his face was pockmarked with years of building acne scars. His tank top was unnecessarily tight, and yellow stains saturated the ribbed, cotton fabric.

“Eugh! I would have pegged her as a girl with better taste,” Laney said, grinning at Cassie. “Maybe she’s trying to buy drugs or something.”

“Right,” Cassie said through a laugh, knowing that Jessica, a teammate of hers from the softball team, did not use drugs. “How would she even know he sold them?”

“Maybe he smells like pot,” Laney answered, shrugging.

“From the look of him, he smells like he hasn’t bathed in weeks,” Cassie said, staring at the man. Jessica didn’t look like she was trying to buy drugs. She looked honestly fascinated, which was weird, for her. She was flippant, at times, blunt even. But she wasn’t one to go seeking out men twice her age. Cassie looked at the people milling around Jessica, reactively seeking out her best friend, Rebecca Murphy. The two were usually inseparable.

“Do you see Murph?” Cassie asked, scanning for the one person she knew would be watching out for Jessica. Laney shook her head.

“Aren’t they away this weekend? Wasn’t she out on Friday?”

Cassie nodded, remembering. Rebecca and her younger brother Jordan were absent from school on Friday. Cassie remembered her other softball teammate saying something about a trip out of town this weekend. She was pulled from her musing by the sudden aroma of fried potatoes becoming suddenly more concentrated as a greasy container was waved under her nose.