can be anyone. Me. Daphne. The redheaded girl with freckles and pigtails on the Wendy’s sign.
Tristan should really learn to be more precise with his lyrics. If I turned in an English paper with the word “she” written all over it, I would get a big fat C minus with a note from Ms. Ferrel that said “Be more specific.”
Whatever.
Before they even reach the first chorus, I trudge away from the stage, vowing to find something else to do. You know, besides feel sorry for myself.
I sit down at the horse race game again—this time opting for horse number three. Maybe it’ll have some kind of cosmic significance. This is, after all, my third time living this same day. My third time at this carnival. My third time playing this game. I feed my dollar into the slot. Before the game starts, I whip out my phone and snap a selfie with the backdrop of the horses all lined up, ready to race.
I quickly type in a caption.
Having a blast at the carnival! Place your bets on me!
I was aiming for fun, flirty, and of course busy and important, but when I post the picture to Instagram all I see is heartbreak in my eyes. Even with the Cupcake filter, which usually makes me look so chipper.
The buzzer rings and I stuff my phone back into my pocket and try to focus on the game. It comes as no surprise to me, however, when horse number three finishes last.
Take Another Little Piece of My Heart
8:43 p.m.
“Woo! That was amazing! Did you see us up there? Did you see the crowd?” Tristan hasn’t stopped moving for the past five minutes. If he’s not bouncing on his heels, he’s punching the air or doing some new skip/spin move I’ve never seen before.
“I saw it,” I reply serenely. “Everyone was really enjoying themselves.”
Tristan barely seems to hear what I said. “God, I love it up there! The energy! The screams! The music! We were on fire tonight. I don’t think we’ve ever sounded so good. And by the time we got to ‘Mind of the Girl’—BAM! They were all just putty in our hands.”
I flash a tight smile. “Yes. Putty.”
His high is already rubbing off on me, lifting my spirits, chasing away my sour mood. But I’m careful to keep my responses contained, remembering Commandment #2 about looking feminine and refined on a date. Refined ladies don’t jump around and squeal. They sit up straight and cross their legs.
Okay, so we aren’t sitting down right now, but I’ll be sure to cross my legs when we do.
“At least five people came up to me after the show asking us to play at another venue!” he goes on, punching his fist into his palm.
“That’s…”
Refined. Controlled. Feminine.
“… stupendous.”
Stupendous?
Tristan gives me and my word choice a strange look before nodding back at the carnival. “So, what do you want to do?”
“What do you want to do?” I lob the question back at him almost instinctively. I’m getting pretty good at this Creature of Mystery thing.
Although as soon as the question is out of my mouth, all the items on my fantasy carnival date list stream through my mind. Things like bumper cars and the Ferris wheel and the ring toss game.
“Ooh,” Tristan says, pointing to a nearby booth. “What about the ring toss game?”
So much for acting like a lady. The grin that covers my face is anything but refined.
Tristan notices. “I guess that’s a yes?”
I nod.
We walk over to the game, where a carnival employee hands us five tiny rings in exchange for a dollar. I glance up at the prizes hanging from the ceiling of the booth, immediately spotting the one I want. It’s a giant stuffed white poodle, almost identical to the one that Dr. Jason Halloway won for Annabelle six years ago. Next to it is a sign that says 4 RINGS.
He has to land four of the five rings on the bottle necks in order to win it. I bite my lip and watch as Tristan psychs himself up, adjusting his stance.
He lets the first ring fly.
It’s short. It bounces off the table in front of the bottles and falls to the ground. Tristan looks discouraged.
“That’s okay!” I pipe in. “That was a practice round.”
He readies himself again, shifting his weight around until he’s evenly balanced. Then he flings the second ring. It hits one of the bottles and ricochets off to the side.
Disappointment fills me but I try not to