out a whoop. I did it!
The buzzer rings, startling me.
“And we have a winner!” the virtual announcer says. “The lucky number two!”
Wait, what?
Someone won already? Didn’t we just start? I peer up at the horses. The one with the red number-two jersey is waiting patiently at the finish line, while my slow horse is still way back at the beginning, having moved only one pace thanks to my one sunken ball.
Wow. I really suck at this game.
I’m about to try my luck again when a shadow falls over me and I turn to see Tristan standing there. I jump from my stool and throw my arms around him. “Hi! You’re here! Isn’t this amazing?”
He shrugs and I carefully disentangle myself from him. When I pull back I see he’s frowning and his whole body language is off.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I just passed the stage.”
I glance in the direction he’s pointing. There’s a giant makeshift theater on the far side of the fairgrounds. It’s empty and dark. “So?”
“So?” he repeats, agitated. “There’s no one playing on it! I’ve been trying to get Whack-a-Mole a gig at this carnival for weeks and they kept telling me it was full.”
I can feel my perfect fantasy evening slipping away. I have to get Tristan out of his funk. He can’t be like this all night. We have prizes to win and junk food to eat and Ferris wheels to ride.
“Maybe it was a last-minute cancellation,” I speculate.
“It was,” he grumbles.
Tristan is rarely in a bad mood. He’s just not the type.
“So, there you go!” I say brightly.
But this only seems to have the opposite effect on him. His head drops and he stares at the ground. “I wish we knew about the cancellation. We could have performed tonight. We could have rocked this place. All these people would have heard our music. It’s such a waste.”
Panic flares in my chest. He’s getting more and more upset about this. I need to shut it down.
I rub his arm. “I have something that might cheer you up.”
He peers at me through his lashes and I nearly swoon. “What’s that?”
I go through my mental list of the activities that made up Jason and Annabelle’s enchanted evening. “How about the bumper cars?”
Jason and Annabelle waited in line for ten minutes for those bumper cars. Then they hopped in the same car and he drove while she called out directions and pointed out targets, squealing in delight and grasping his leg every time they collided with someone. By the end, they were both laughing so hard, they couldn’t even get out of the car. A carnival attendant had to walk over and tell them to leave.
The bumper cars are sure to cheer up Tristan. It’s rear-ending people on purpose. What better way to work out your aggression?
“I’ll let you drive,” I add, sweetening the offer.
He presses his lips together, like he’s contemplating the idea, but then he shakes his head. “Actually, I don’t think I’m going to stay.”
My heart fills with lead and sinks into the pit of my stomach.
“What? But you just got here.” I don’t mean to sound so whiny, but I do.
“I know,” he says and, for the first time, I notice that he won’t meet my eye. “I think I should meet up with the band and strategize. We haven’t had a gig in a few weeks and we need to do something about that.”
I nod sympathetically. “Of course. I’ll come with you. I have some great ideas about—”
Tristan puts his hands on both of my shoulders, like he’s trying to keep me from blowing away. Yet he still won’t look at me. “No. You should stay here. I actually just came by to talk to you about something. I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”
I try to swallow but my mouth is suddenly dry. “Okay.”
“Ellie,” he begins, his voice cracked and uncertain. He clears his throat. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“What? The carnival?”
“No.” He bites his lip. “I mean, us.”
My breath instantly grows shallow. Someone has locked my lungs in a too-small cage and thrown away the key. I watch, stunned and transfixed, as Tristan presses his thumb against each of his fingernails, like he’s checking to make sure they’re all there. It’s one of his little nervous tics. Something he does before he goes on stage. It used to be so endearing. Now it feels like a sign of the apocalypse.
He closes his eyes.