Amy

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After a few days, I picked up the phone to call Oliver for no particular reason. As soon as he picked up, he exploded.

“AMY!”

“Wha!! Um what?”

“Amy, guess what? The county fair’s going to be here in a week! Are you gonna be there?!” I could tell that he was beside himself with excitement.

“…Oh… uh… no. I’ll be staying here for at least two more weeks.”

“Oh.” He deflated in disappointment. “Right, that makes sense.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, that’s ok. So, what have you been up to?”

Our conversation slipped back to its normal pace, and after I hung up, I felt that depressed feeling slip back into my gut.

As time passed, I felt more and more depressed, and became more and more drawn to Jack from the Quartet. He was charming, funny, easygoing, and for whatever reason, seemed to enjoy my presence. I began to hang out with his friends more and more often, which meant I was often intoxicated.

It’s a cruel world we live in. No one even bothered to try and stop me, despite the fact that I’m obviously not of age. Not my clueless mother, not the Ringmaster, not anybody. As hours upon days bore into my mind, I began to have a darker, more pessimistic view of who I was. I felt that I was the only person alive that was remotely affected by my own existence. Jack was more than likely just trying to screw me, my sister was completely fine on her own, and there was just No. Way. In. Hell that Oliver actually cared about me. But I didn’t care. Really, I didn’t give a damn about myself, so why should anyone else? I was beyond useless. I had become a reckless nobody.

It was probably that attitude that led that incident to happen, 1 week before we were scheduled to leave for the next site.

It was probably past midnight when I was with Quag and the others out in the Festival parking lot. We were laughing and being silly until we ran out of beer.

“Well, c’mon, we gotta get some more!” Quack cheered.

“How?” a carnie girl asked.

“There’s a party store a few miles from here! C’mon, we gotta golf cart!”

We clumsily made our way to Quag’s golf cart. He and Quack got in the front two seats while the rest of us piled in the back. He started it up and we were soon out on the street. The bitter wind rushed past us as Quag accelerated faster and faster until we were going over sixty.

I suddenly felt uneasy. With every bump, everyone bounced up and then down in their seats, some barely holding on. I felt a strong impulse to get to Quag and demand he slow down. I leaned forward against the frozen wind and tried to get his attention.

“Quaaag!!” I couldn’t even hear my own voice.

“Whaaaht?!” he shouted as we went around a curve.

At that point, a pair of headlights suddenly appeared around the bend. In a state of panic, Quag yanked the wheel to avoid the approaching vehicle and we were thrown off the road.

Everything went black.

The next thing I remember is pure pain. I didn’t know where it was coming from; I just knew that I was injured. Slowly, as I regained my consciousness, I recalled what had happened, and where I must have been.

My head felt like it was going to rip in two. For a short while, I just lay completely motionless, trying to grasp some sort of reality. I moved one of my hands and felt leaves. I opened my eyes and shut them again, blinded by the light. Eventually, I adjusted enough to be able to see that I was lying in a ditch.

Summoning all my strength, I rolled over onto my back. I gasped when I realized my right leg ached horribly. After a few moments of anguish, I was eventually able to sit up.

The first thing I could comprehend was that I was covered in scratches. My arms and legs were all scraped and bleeding lightly. My shoulder, which I nearly dislocated when we were up in that tree, was even sorer now. As far as I could tell, the worst damage was what felt like a twisted ankle. I lightly pressed the surface of my thigh with my fingers and sensed that it was very swollen. The pain extended from my hip to my ankle. Again I just sat there for a moment, my head throbbing intensely.

I scanned my surroundings. The golf cart lay on its side about 30 feet away from me. People were scattered all over the place. From where I was sitting, I could see a couple carnie girls and Quincy, all unconscious. Panicking for a moment, I started to hyperventilate.

Calm down, Amy. Calm down.

I had to get up. Using a tree for support, I gradually got to my feet. I leaned against the tree and, once again, waited a few moments for the pain to subside. I looked up again.

Jack. I couldn’t see him before, but now that I was standing up, his hair was visible behind the golf cart. I shuffled over and knelt down beside him.

“Jack?” I whispered coarsely. “Jack?”

He didn’t respond. I choked when I noticed a trickle of blood coming from his mouth. Panicking again, I stood up and leaned against the cart.

I didn’t know that to do. I couldn’t help them; I had no idea how to handle medical emergencies...

What should I do? What should I do? Oh, god, oh, god…

Help. I had to go get help. I stood up again and ignored the stabbing in my ankle. I knew the road was just up the hill to my left, and no matter what, I had to get up there.

Getting up there. That was the hardest thing I have ever done. Every step was agony, but I had no choice. But even after I had conquered the slope, I realized with a sense of hopelessness that I still had a long ways to go.

“Hello, welcome to the Maine State Renaissance festival! Would you like to participate-“

“Call an ambulance.”

I had finally reached the admission booths. The girl at the counter stared at me in confusion.

“…What?”

“Call an ambulance. There was an accident.”

“What?! Where?”

“Uh, you know where the main road starts to curve and the ditches get really steep?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s in there.”

“Wouldn’t someone else have called already?”

“No. I was the only one that woke up.”

“Wait, you were in it?!”

“Just call the freaking ambulance!”

She jumped and turned to the phone on the wall. I sunk to the ground. My vision glazed over and I zoned out for some time before a hand was placed on my shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” the girl asked.

“No.”

“Liar. I saw you limping. God, how the hell did you manage to walk from there to here?”

She pulled me up and helped me to a bench. She kept trying to help but I insisted she get back to the phone. Once she obliged, I spaced out again.

It was only once I heard sirens go off in the distance that I allowed myself to rest.