The Writers' Avenue Issue 3: YOLO

You

Lauren Simpson x Piper Shumski

You're tired and you didn't want to go out tonight. Usually you would desire being at the fair, going on every ride and stuffing your face with sickly sweet treats - cotton candy above all else. But tonight the lights of the stands seem to be too bright as it pounds on your head. Your hand lingers in your pocket, the thumb running over the screen, leaving smudges and prints. 

You continue to wait for the buzz of a message. Crowds surge around you, busy as bees; a blur of tickets, pocket books, and anticipation for the fair. They all laugh and shout and brush against you and irritate you overall. After deciding you can't take much more shoving and hushed excuse me's you enter the fair, still awaiting a text.

You walk slowly, admiring the stuffed animals on display in the booths. The summer air is still warm even though the sky is darkening with nightfall.

Finally, you feel the vibration indicating a text. You check your phone, the brightness temporarily blinding you only to find out that your friend can't come tonight. You hear your own breath whistle out in a sigh. You've already paid to get in; you didn't want to be here in the first place but now you feel obligated to not waste the night. You promise yourself two rides, a cotton candy, then you will go home and rest. 

With a plan secure in your mind you start your search for a ride. Any ride. The Ferris wheel crosses your mind, right next to the entrance. You don't want to ride the spinning art alone, though it is your favorite ride. You start to make your way towards the swings that spin like tops when the syrupy scent of cotton candy catches your attention.

You look up quickly, searching for the source of the smell. You follow the scent down a row of booths: fried dough, popcorn, corn dogs, ice cream; on the end, tufts of pink and blue cover a cart. Children around you laugh while snatching the pink clouds from the air, sticking them in their mouths. As you approach the cotton candy cart, you saw her.

In your head you see two parallel moments, both starring the same girl. Where you know there is now a pale ponytail, you see two long braids, trailing behind her as she runs through a sea of tall grass. Where you know there is an exhausted expression, you see bright eyes. Spheres of chocolate Hershey, the kind that gets gooey in your fingers. A confident toothy smile in place of a frown. This new girl looks up to the next customer with expectant eyes. The years shrunk her and stretched her vertically, erased her smile and gave her vague disinterest. It hasn't stolen away her confidence though; you can see it in a raised eyebrow. Then you realize why she looks so anticipative. She's waiting for you. For her next customer. You're her next customer.

"Do you remember me?" You ask quietly. She blinks at you in surprise.

"From what?" She asks. Her voice isn't the same but familiar none the less. Her name stuck in your throat, behind the curtains in the back of your mind but it just won't surface.

"Summer '05?" You cocked your head, unkept hair falling in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't. Can I get you something?" She gestures the cotton candy before her. You nod then ask for her name. She gives out a breathy laugh. "I thought we were supposed to know each other?"

You smile, her sarcastic laugh is like a breath of summer; you see her younger, up in a tree calling you a chicken for not joining her.

"I'm not good with names." You confess. She pushes a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear, when she sees you noticing her expression turning hard.

"Here you go." She says, thrusting the cotton candy towards you then ringing you up on the cash register.

"So, are you going to answer?"