Crash Into Me | ✓

twelve

It turned out convincing Nikki to come to the carnival instead of going to Shem Creek was easier than I anticipated, although having an opportunity to stick her nose into whatever was going on with Brooklyn and I probably helped her decision. That, and the promise of funnel cake with extra powdered sugar.

Ella and Nikki had clicked in seconds, as soon as Cardi B came on the radio in Ella's tiny white Honda coupe, and the two made bad attempts to rap "Bodak Yellow." Brooklyn and I sat squished in the back seat, our knees and shoulders rubbing up against each other with every dip and turn Ella took, far too close to be comfortable. He didn't smell like citrus today, but something sweeter, like vanilla and sandalwood but still blended with the tangy, burnt scent of his cigarettes.

The carnival was already crowded even though night was just starting to creep into the sky. The setup took over the entire parking lot of the old Convention Center that bumped up against the harbor, with everything from a Ferris wheel and the Gravatron ride to cotton candy and popcorn machines spanning every free corner of the parking lot.

A soft breeze blew in from the harbor, and without the heat of the sun, it was goosebump inducing. Neon lights from the rides dotted the pavement as we walked along the side of the carnival where all the games were set up underneath faded white tents. Nikki and Ella walked a few paces behind Brooklyn and I, and every so often I could hear hushed whispers and silly giggling.

"I'm sorry, y'all have something to say?" Brooklyn called over his shoulder.

"I'm just trying to get some funnel cake!" Nikki shot back, which got Ella to laugh.

Brooklyn stopped abruptly and grabbed my arm, pointing at one of the football toss games.

"I'm doing that," Brooklyn said.

Ella scoffed. "You know there's other ways to stroke your ego," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Lighten up, El," Brooklyn replied, and before Ella could respond, he pulled me in the direction of the booth.

It seemed to be a typical football toss carnival game: two rubber-lined hoops hung suspended over a cheap replica of a football field. Then a third hoop hung behind them, half the size of the other two, slowly swinging back and forth. All carnival and boardwalk games were the same, designed to sucker people in by making it seem easy enough at first, giving unsuspecting patrons a false sense of confidence. But the last shot was always impossible to make, so people would throw more money down on the table and try again, always hitting the first two and never making that final shot. Eventually they'd walk away defeated, with no stuffed teddy bears and an empty wallet.

The kid running the booth couldn't have been older than 17. His shaggy blonde hair flopped into his face, which was turned downwards, engrossed in his phone. He looked up at us with a deadpan expression.

"If you can hit all three shots, its free," he said with a shrug.

Brooklyn smirked and elbowed me. "What do you want?" he asked, gesturing up to the array of large stuffed dogs that sat on a shelf behind the kid's head.

I raised an eyebrow. "You haven't even thrown a ball yet. Besides, you weren't even a quarterback."

Ella groaned. "This is so stupid," she said with an exasperated sigh.

"Shut it, El!" Brooklyn snapped.

He picked up the first ball and without hesitation placed his hand right where it needed to be, thumb on the bottom seam and his fingers in between every other white lace at the top. In one fluid, effortless motion he drew his arm back and threw the ball in a perfect spiral, hitting the first hoop without even touching the rubber rim. He was good, and I should have anticipated that.