Page 15 of Atone

End of story.

My reckless little heart needs to kick these flutters to the curb because no good will come from indulging them.

4

BACK ON SOLID GROUND

MILA

“Let’sat least make this challenging.” Remi swipes the target off the stand, setting an apple in its place.

Her blue eyes brighten as she whips her face to me. An orange-red lock of hair falls across her freckled cheek.

“And here I thought you would actually make this difficult.” I smirk, narrowing my gaze as I shift into position.

The apple balances on the beam where the target usually sits, with the large panel of wood behind it.

With a quick flip of the wrist, I toss the dagger from my hand. It lands in the center of the apple, pinning it to the wood panel.

“Too easy.” I take a bow.

“Next time I’ll bring something smaller. Like limes.” Remi grabs the handle of the knife, dislodging the tip from the wood with the apple still impaled by the blade.

I laugh as she carries it over to me, held up at her side. She drops into one of the chairs beside the display, kicking her feet up on another. The carnival doesn’t open for another thirty minutes, so everyone is either putting the final touches on their acts or practicing. Which gives me and Remi a moment of relief before the show starts up.

It wasn’t too long ago we would simply help when needed with setting up and fetching the occasional item. My parents preferred we stayed hidden and not cause trouble. Remi and I would hide in the pop-up camper, and we’d play cards or read each other’s fortunes.

When I turned fifteen and Remi sixteen, since she’s a year older, all that changed. My parents considered us old enough to do more than just help out. They wanted us as part of the show.

If Remi’s parents hadn’t abandoned her at the carnival a few years before, they might have argued against it, but it likely wouldn’t have changed anything. The carnival is a business, not a free ride, as my parents liked to remind me. Everyone is expected to play their part.

Remi sets the apple on the armrest of her chair, pushing the knife to slice it through.

“You aren’t going to try and do better?”

“Why prove what we both already know to be true?” She cuts a slice and hands it to me. “Wouldn’t want to get in your head right before the show.”

I roll my eyes, taking the apple slice. But I don’t argue.

We both know Remi is the better knife thrower. Rumors say she learned how to toss daggers before she learned how to talk. And while I don’t believe that, I don’t question her abilities. She taught me everything I know and gave me my first blade. Since that day, I’ve kept it strapped to my thigh, not wanting to blemish it for a show.

Remi chews a bite of apple, watching the crowd gather in the lot outside the carnival. It’s going to be a busy night.

“What happened to that precollege program you applied for?” She takes another bite. “I haven’t heard you talk about it in weeks.”

“Nothing. I didn’t end up replying to the questionnaire they sent me. Besides, it’s expensive.”

“Isn’t that what you were going to use your grandparents’ inheritance for?” Her eyebrows pinch.

“I considered it.”

“You should do it. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Mila. And you know it will help you get into college.”

It will. Especially considering the half-ass homeschooling my parents offer through the carnival doesn’t cover everything they’re supposed to. I’ve made up the gaps in research and reading. But if I want to get into college, I need something more.

“I don’t know if I want to go to college,” I lie.

“You can’t just stay here.”