Page 11

The woman held up her palm, flashing a grin that was one rotten stump away from being toothless.

“Five tokens,” he translated, with a light elbow to my ribs like we were in on some big secret. He murmured something along the lines of “deal of the century,” but I was too entranced by the shadows behind her to catch it. Seeming to stem from her spine, they fluttered and furled, casting wraithlike shapes that didn’t match any of our surroundings. A violent tickle erupted on my back, as if buried under my scars, deep beneath my skin.

“Come on Riv, indulge me.” Javi broke my trance, and as I batted a hand at my back, the sensation ceased.

I turned to him. “Seriously, Jav, its Grad Night, and this is what you want to do?”

He knew what he was doing batting those unfairly long lashes, and it worked like a charm on me. Pretending to consider his plea, I shot another glance at the open-aired booth.

The shadows fell still and nondescript. Huh. Must have been a trick of the light.

“Alright, fine.” I let him think I was giving in, but to be honest, I was now a little curious myself.

Madame Myrian nodded and pointed to an empty chair. Javi obeyed, making a dramatic show of stepping forward as he entered her circle of fate.

Tarot cards twisted and bridged atop a sheer black tablecloth with a gilded zodiac wheel, their silvery white edges glistening like tiny mirrors in the setting sun. Suits dropped one by one into a cross-like sequence, a mosaic of swords and wands and every color of the rainbow. Myrian translated their secrets, or I supposed she meant to, but her words were unintelligible against the latest dispatch of screams from Logger’s Revenge.

Javi leaned in closer until his body stretched halfway across the table.

Not feeling the same urge to close the gap, I inspected the spread from the side, pausing on a pair of cards with images reminiscent of Adam and Eve and the Grim Reaper.

These were just symbolic representations, of course, but my pulse quickened about what kind of conclusions would be drawn from their meanings. Not wanting, or qualified, to read too far into it, I swiveled around to people-watch instead.

Or…I would have if anyone was there.

Tucked between the industrial-strength power cords and desolate employee breakroom, we’d separated from the herd. It hadn’t fazed me at sunset, but the string lights over the midway didn’t shine where we were, and darkness started to seep into every crevice.

Already around us the lines were thinning, and the remaining few stragglers boarded the Cave Train or spent the last of their tokens at the mini arcade or sprinted towards the primary entrance of the park—a sign the beach concert was beginning soon, if it hadn’t already.

The fleeing footsteps reverberated over my body like I was being trampled beneath them. Each resounding thud had me clutching my hair a little harder as the noises around me grew sharper and the scents and stains and shades of color of the Boardwalk started melding together. I meandered away from the reading, with a weight in my stomach that threatened to take the rest of me down.

Even though there was no one else around, it didn’t feel like I was alone.

The second voice sizzled with the cornbread’s oily batter wafting from the row of carnival-themed cafes. “Watcher, go back to the cards,” she urged. “Tell us what you see.”

I clutched my stomach. Breathe breathe breathe—for a second, the air got caught in my windpipe, when a game stall’s overhead door slammed shut.

The first voice rang out in the clang of the metal, her shrill tones mocking me. “Or just keep standing there. We’ve obviously got all the time in the world…”

“Is this you helping? Because it’s definitely not working.” The second voice tried to reason against the Down the Clown’s insufferable laugh track, but the screechy combo just brought goosebumps to my flesh.

My breathing came in short bursts. I wanted, no needed, them to stop. I clamped down on my tongue—if I opened my mouth, words might not be the only thing that’d come spewing out.

“What? It’s not like she’s in a rush to figure anything out.” The first feigned offense, her voice softening as the metal door stilled.

“But we are,” the third belted out in sync with the riders braving the Fireball’s pendulum swing.

“She doesn’t understand our world. Maybe she can find meaning through her own.” The second voice refuted the others, still paired with the creepy clown game’s recorded instructions. For the love of God, could she pick another sound!?

“How long must we wait for her to come around? It’s been ten years and she has shown no interest in the truth.” The third voice chipped at my brain, using the sharp clicks from an air hockey puck. “We need to accept that no matter how hard we try to steer her, she will never be her mother.”

Her words stung me like a thousand angry bees. Not just because they were lined with venom, but because in my core I knew they were every part true. “You think I don’t know that? You’re preaching to the choir,” I finally whispered back.

The second voice cut back in. “Watcher?—”

Watcher. Their little pet name they’d never cared to explain. Hm, was it because when my mom saved me from the rip current all I could do was watch, helpless, while she got caught in it?

My nails dug into my palms. “Don’t fucking call me that!” I didn’t bother to conceal my voice.