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“It was nice chatting with you!” Nick says.
I deflate. I had been enjoying the time with Blake, and now he’s leaving. It feels like we haven’t been spending enough time together. He helps me get my mind off …Damon. I take a sip of my cider and compartmentalize the past month’s events. “Catch up soon?”
Blake quirks his mouth in a half-smile. “I promise we’ll make up for lost time.” He looks at Nick. “It was nice getting to know you better. We should grab lunch or something one of these days. Jen, you’re invited to come, too.”
“Sounds great,” she agrees.
He gives us a brief salute and heads off with Van Gogh. My shoulders slump as I eat my fries. Jen takes notice, her forehead wrinkled in concern.
“I know,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “We should go do something fun until the costume contest. Any ideas?”
Nick looks around. “I know! I heard they have a corn maze here. How about that?”
“I’m not in the mood to get lost,” I say.
Jen taps her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe take a ride on the Ferris wheel?”
“Let’s do it!” Nick says, pumping his fist in the air.
I laugh at his enthusiasm and eat whatever else I can before ditching the remnants of my dinner in a trash can. Bellies full, we head for the Ferris wheel, joining the queue. Soon, we’re ushered into a gondola. As the wheel ascends, a symphony of laughter and cheers echoes up from the chaotic fairgrounds.
A pang of loneliness hits as Jen and Nick cuddle across from me. But when the wheel grinds to a halt at the top, my heart stops as I take in the breathtaking vista. Sprawled beneath us, miles unfurl like a miniature universe. It’s as if we’re suspended in our own bubble, gazing down on a tiny, twinkling world far below.
Up here, I feel a sense of peacefulness.
Gazing up at the night sky, I see stars twinkling like diamond chips scattered across an infinite blanket of darkness. I can’t help but feel that everything will be alright if I can stay here forever. But the Ferris wheel moves once more, gradually starting its descent.
Eventually, we reach the bottom again, with Nick and Jen holding hands as we exit the gondola.
“This was a great idea,” I say, my smile genuine.
Jen cocks her head, feigning sheepishness. “You looked like you needed something to lift your spirits. The Ferris wheel always puts me in a good mood, so I figured …”
“I really appreciate it,” I say honestly.
Nick glimpses his watch. “Shit. I think they’re getting ready for the contest,” he says, pointing across the grounds. “We gotta go.” He pulls away from Jen and pecks her cheek, causing her to blush. “You gonna be in the crowd cheering us on?”
She beams, her hands on her hips. “Of course!”
The two of them quickly make their way towards the stage, with me trailing behind. As I watch the pair race off together, I can’t help but smile—and feel a bit of envy, too. I wish Blake were here with me. But honestly, I can’t betooenvious. Nick and Jen make a cute couple. It warms my heart to see them together.
Once the two of them part ways, Nick and I go check in with the organizers. We’re both given an entry number. I pin mine—thirty-five—on my shirt and head backstage. Nick is already there, stretching and pacing. As I look around, I can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by the creativity of the competition.
Nick notices my pinched expression and comes over. “Don’t worry. We got this!” he says, slapping me on the back. “And Jen will be cheering us on, too.”
I straighten my back and stand taller, loosening my shoulders. “You’re right. We’ll show them a thing or two,” I say, more confidently than I feel.
After some delay, the competition finally begins. The announcer outlines the rules, lists the categories, and introduces the judges, who will consider both the crowd’s vote through a ballot box and the scores they themselves will determine.
Forever seems to pass when my number is finally called. Nick gives me a fist bump for good luck before I step out onto the stage. The crowd cheers and catcalls. I try not to look awkward under their scrutiny, the brightness of the spotlight rendering me half-blind.
“Here’s number thirty-five. Straight from the sixties, a glamorous, murderous femme fatale with a penchant for close shaves!”
Posing with one hand on my hip and the fake straight razor in the other, I display my costume to everyone. As I prepare to leave the stage, I squint and search the crowd for any sign of Blake or Jen, but it’s difficult to see anything clearly. A woman dressed as Cleopatra snaps photos of us eagerly.
Carefully descending the stairs to avoid tripping, I join the other contestants gathered at the bottom. Nick’s number is called by the announcer, and he confidently steps onto the stage, taking a bow as the audience erupts into thunderous applause.
Then I see a figure in the shadows, just at the edge of my vision. I move around the other contestants to get a closer look. The figure is gone—but something rests on the ground in their place. I pick up the necklace, the crystals on it smeared with blood. Ice fills my veins.
