The In Between

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 

Justin

She starts laughing as soon as we’re out the door. “You got here just in time. You saved me from ‘the talk.’ Your mom is planning our imaginary wedding and my mom just wants to make sure I don’t end up on Teen Mom.”

“I’ve missed you,” I blurt when I breathe in her grapefruity shampoo.

“In the twenty hours since you last saw me?”

I answer her with a kiss before getting in the car.

* * *

The county fair comes to Heron for three days every summer and sets up on the old Bearville grounds five miles out of town. Everyone goes: hordes of over-excited children, pregnant moms-to-be ambling through the midway on swollen feet, families steering strollers through crowds, couples holding hands and feeding each other pastel wisps of cotton candy, and older kids who are too cool for the whole thing but go anyway because as long as they pretend not to take it seriously, it’s okay.

The parking lot is already packed when we get to the grounds. The smell of barbecue, hot dogs, popcorn, and burnt sugar fills the humid air, mixing with the sounds of gongs coming from the games, hokey music from the small carousel, and the distinct hum of people trying to be everywhere at once. There’s a slight chill in the air that everyone ignores, in denial about summer coming to an end.

“It’s so sad. I can’t even find someone he’s survived by. He was right there at school and none us knew him. Cardiac arrest, yesterday.” Tara’s in the middle of her final assignment for the Herald.

“Who was it, again?” I ask, squeezing Tara’s hand as we weave through the crowd.

“Mike Jacobs, the janitor. You know the old one that was always hunched over? I was hoping he had a torrid affair with one of the lunch ladies, but no-go. I can’t even find a good quote. The principal just said something about how he’d never seen the floors cleaner.”

“You can get a quote from me. He let me in when I needed to get a book for my take home History test. He saved my life.”

She lights up. “That’s it, he must have saved our lives like a gazillion times with barely a ‘thank you.’ I can say…” she puts on her best reporter voice, “The student body of Heron High would like to thank Mr. Jacobs for opening doors and saving lifes for over thirty years.” She kisses me. “Thank you, you’re brilliant.”

“Where should we start?” I ask.

“Anywhere but the Teen Tent.”

I laugh. The Teen Tent is an adult’s idea of what teens would like: there’s a disco ball and really bad canned music circa 1998. It’s always empty, except for a few curious ten and eleven year olds, and even they seem to get bored within minutes. The actual real, live teens, on the other hand, are way too busy trying to sneak into the Beer Garden. There’s always a rush on fake ID’s before the fair opens.

Like she read my mind, Tara says, “I don’t have a fake ID.” She sounds apologetic. She’s worried that I want be in that tent with Luke and Pete and Amanda, beer in hand.

 I see Luke’s blonde head above the others. He’s standing next to some cheerleader whose name I don’t remember. He’s holding a plastic cup and looking a little bored. I see Amanda and Ben and Sally and Pete jumping up and down, half dancing, half drunk.

I look back at Tara. I grab her hand.

“I want to win you something,” I say, pulling her along to the Duck Hunt booth, where three rows of mechanized ducks parade past the line-up of people trying with varying degrees of concentration to shoot them down with BB guns. It takes me three tries to win her a brown and white stuffed teddy bear with a red felt bow tie, and another two to win something for Tara’s little sister.

We walk by the Go Fish and Buckeye Toss games, past the petting table of fat white bunnies and a gleaming new red tractor on display to the line-up of food stalls. We pass on the deep fried burgers in doughnut buns, both choosing modestly: corndogs and frozen lemonades. We take them over to a bench just as the family sitting there gets up to race over to the music tent, where a country singer I’ve never heard of is about to start performing. 

“Damn,” I mutter reflexively. Amanda’s clearly spotted us, and she’s marching right over.

Tara looks up, her mouth pursed around her straw in the cutest “O.”  

I meet Amanda’s ice-maiden gaze for a second before quickly looking away. She’s flanked on either side by Lauren and Sally, who are looking from me to Amanda and back again, their mouths turned down in matching sarcastic, snarly frowns. They’re like the girl group from hell.

Amanda turns to me, jutting one hip out and cocking her head to the side. “Well, well.  It seems the rumors are true,” she remarks snidely.

“Hey,” I say, suppressing the urge to groan.

Amanda shifts her attention to Tara, looking down at the teddy bear resting on her lap, and shakes her head. She glances back at me. “Look at that!” she practically screeches, snatching the teddy bear from Tara. “How cute.”

“Don’t do this, Amanda,” I warn, putting an arm around Tara’s shoulder protectively.

“Seriously?” Amanda scoffs, waving the teddy bear in front of my face. “Who are you right now? Nicholas Sparks?”

I feel Tara tense in my arms. She’s looking down into her frozen lemonade, perfectly still.

“Amanda,” I say carefully, holding up a hand to surrender. “If you want to talk, we can talk. If you want to make a scene—”

“Screw you, Justin!”

“—you’re only embarrassing yourself.”

She hurls the teddy bear at my face. Tara and I both flinch.

“Get out of here,” I tell her quietly, picking up the teddy bear and placing it back on Tara’s lap.

“C’mon, Amanda,” Lauren interjects. “They’re not worth it. Besides, the guys are waiting for us at the Beer Garden.”

Amanda nods without taking her piercing eyes off of us. “You’re right. They are so not worth it.” She tosses her long blonde hair with an arrogant flip, turns, and struts away.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. 

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. She has no right to behave that way. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“Let’s just forget it, ” Tara asserts.

I wrap my arms around her. “Ok, let’s. Ferris wheel?” 

* * *

The night is dark and starry as the music starts and our gondola begins it’s graceful arc high above the fair grounds. Tara’s fingers are intertwined with mine as we look down at the blur of the crowd, the distant lights from town and the carpet of trees spread out as far as the eye can see. The wheel pauses when we reach the top and I lean over to kiss her as we swing, weightless and free.

The earth below us is far, far away and for those few perfect moments, suspended in the night sky, we are safe and untouchable.