“And on the midway there was a handsome young man, probably four years older than me, nineteen years old to my fifteen, and instead of getting caught up in Lucy’s flirtatiousness and carnival games, he was paying attention to me.” I put my head in my hands, with such renewed regret at how – a few different decisions by me that day – they would’ve made all the difference, and Lucy’d still being alive.
“When she’d tired of the shooting gallery and stuffed animal prizes she’d sauntered over to find me to follow her off and get another group of boys’ attention. But I was stubborn that day. Here was a young guy who was interested in me for a change. So, off we went with Allsweld and left the Midway.”
“At first it was a fun tour behind the scenes of the carnival, under tent flaps and places I would have never thought to explore. That was half the fun of it – it had felt a little dangerous.
”And then Lucy and Allsweld had hit on the idea of finding some whiskey, and having a drink before we rode the roller coasters.”
“Another good reason to hate those fucking things.” Bette chimes in.
“I haven’t been to a fair since. So, we go way back to the lot where all the carnival caravans are parked. We weave past the clowns and trick ponies, and into an unlocked trailer on a crowded field of sawdust.”
“Were you feeling left out at this point?” Bette asks.
“I don’t know about that. I was following around my cousin and this guy I kinda liked, and we were going to sneak a drink, and ride his uncle’s roller coaster for free. And bringing it all back now, I wonder now if once we got inside the trailer, if Lucy han’t pick up on things I was too stupid to be aware of . . .and then tried to protect me by acting out?”