Poppy's POV
The queue at the entrance of the carnival was so long it took twenty minutes of Summer tugging at my arm impatiently to finally get in. And it felt like heaven. Now that I think about it, this is what I want heaven to be like. Bright lights, beautiful things, happy people, pointless banter, carnival dates... There is something about the air of festivity and the happy noise all around that just drowns out the sadness inside of you and makes you feel new again... I don't think anyone could ever feel sad with so much happiness and positivity surrounding them. For me, this was the only place I welcomed the memories of Chase, without feeling raw and bloody, broken. Yes, it did hurt but the pain didn't overpower me. I felt my throat tighten as Summer and I passed along the booths that had become all too familiar, but not once did the smile leave my face. Too many fond memories were attached to this place to ruin them with tears.
The Carnival came from the mainland every beginning of September. With the summer ebbing away, it was the perfect time for everyone to enjoy the last days of freedom with good memories before getting back to the way of work and school.
I thought back to that summer 6 years ago when I first came to the island. I was 16 then and Chase 19. We met on the twenty third of July. It had been my second week on the island and I was bored out of my mind. Everything was so much different from the mainland, so much tinier and I knew all the nooks and corners of the island by the end of the first week. By the second week, I swore I could get about with my eyes closed and begged my dad to let me go back home. Dad refused, because that's what dads do, so I spent the afternoon sulking at my favourite spot on the entire island, Saint Peter's Pier. That was where we met, Chase and I.
We got off to a wrong start would be putting it mildly. To think that it all started over a ball. I was sitting at the pier, along the edge, feet dangling in the warm water when I felt a knock on my head, sending me into the water. When I came back for air, sputtering and coughing, four figures were kneeling along the edge, watching me as I struggled to breathe. Then one of them, Chase as I got to know later, spotted the ball drifting away.
"Oh my God, the ball's going. Catch it, catch it, catch it.'
I was struggling to climb back onto the pier, but he completely ignored me and kept urging me to catch the ball. At sixteen, I wasn't exactly the calmest person you'd find. In fact, I think I perfected the art of being a rebellious teenager over these years. Now, with a bunch of guys more interested in a ball than saving someone's life (Okay, I do know how to swim, but what if I didn't?) and an island that I'd been growing sick of, I was infuriated. So I swam the close distance to the ball and caught it in my hands. Pointedly looking at Chase, I lifted my arm behing my head, then mustering all the power I had, I threw the ball in the opposite direction. I turned around slightly and smiled at how far away I actually managed to throw it.
They all looked at me incredulously until Chase decided to speak. "What did you do that for?" his voice boomed.
"That will teach you to be more concerned about balls than about people," I snapped.
"What?! You weren't exactly drowning there."
Chase went on to angrily ramble on about features of the ball that made absolutely no sense and how that one was a collector's edition of whatever brand that I did not care about. When he finished his rant, he glared at me, waiting for my comeback.
"Help me out of the water," I said, looking back at him with the same glare and scowl on my face.
"No."
"Fine." I tried to climb back onto the pier, but my short legs weren't exactly helping. No matter how hard I tried swinging my legs over, I ended up falling back into the water.
