"You just need a break," Connor says as he had his hands on the wheel, "You know, just a day to pretend that none of the crap any of us have gone through ever happened."
I adjusted in my seat and felt for the handle on the inside of my door, simply so I would have a safety backup when he'd swerve out of control.
"And how would we do that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him in curiosity.
"I say we go to the carnival."
I nodded slowly, "Will you go on the Ferris Wheel?"
"Oh hell no."
"Well then I'm not going." I pretended to pout sarcastically and tried unbearably hard not to laugh.
He takes a long moment. Possibly even a few minutes, and let's out a long sigh/grunting sound, "Fine... I'll think about it."
I sat back in my seat, satisfied with my own persuasiveness.
****
As soon we showed up to the sunny and fried-scented carnival, all we could do was look at it.
"Where do we start?" Connor asks, bumping me with his elbow.
I shrugged and excitedly peered at all the spinning, colorful rides around me.
Something about the unlimited amount of time to do whatever we wanted was thrilling to a person like me.
That's when I caught my eye on the first one I wanted to try and grabbed his wrist.
He glares, knowing what I was about to do... so I did it anyways.
I took off running in which he would need to catch up.
"Skylar, I could've just ran the way with you. You don't have to drag me."
As we slowed to a stop at the line of the "scary" house/maze, I caught my breath and turned to face him, "What's the fun in that?"
He smiles at me, his dimples and white teeth bright and welcoming as the short, mustached carnival worker stamped our hands and allowed us past him.
I ducked underneath a curtain of black trash bags that was supposedly the entrance, and turned to wait for Connor.
He walked in, mimicking my every move as I examined the area.
It was suddenly dark.
Flickering strobe lights on my right, and a cardboard cut-out of a lit zombie on my left.
I wanted to laugh. It didn't scare me.
I stepped out of the way of it and squeezed into the narrow hallway that were to take us to the next area...
It was uncomfortably thin... if either of us were even a few inches wider, we wouldn't be able to make through it.
"I realize the struggle to be fat." I commented and glanced back at the flickering figure of Connor.
He didn't respond. I just imagined that he'd smiled at it, at least.
Half-way down the unnecessarily long hallway, Connor starts breathing heavily.
The heat of the room and intense, continuous strobes, must've begun to freak him out.
"Skylar..." He says, beginning to panic.
I forgot.
He was claustrophobic.
It took effort and a lot of breath-holding, but I got myself to turn around and face him.
I walked backwards and saw his concerned, pale face in the momentary supplies of light.
I saw his hands against the wall while he panicking started to climax.
"We need to turn around."
I understood his uncomfortableness. I was just used to tight-spaces.
YOU ARE READING
Imperfect | est. 2015
Teen Fiction"but that's the fun part," she says, "you can't tell a soul."
