let it show. So what if Tristan can’t win me a stupid stuffed animal? What counts is that he’s here with me. He’s playing the games. We’re spending time together, just as I wanted. It’s more than I can say for the previous two Mondays.
Tristan spends another three dollars on three more games, but he still can’t manage to land one ring on one bottle neck.
“It’s rigged,” he gripes a few minutes later, as he bites into a churro he just bought from a nearby concession stand. “It’s gotta be rigged. I bet the bottle necks are wider than the rings.”
“Totally,” I agree. “That’s the only explanation.”
I try to ignore the tiny voice inside my head reminding me that Dr. Jason Halloway managed to get four rings on four bottles. I saw it with my own eyes. So obviously the game is not rigged.
Stop it, I scold myself. Dr. Jason Halloway doesn’t exist. He’s a figment of your imagination. That guy was probably not even a veterinarian.
Tristan holds the churro up to my mouth. “Want a bite?”
I instantly light up. A shared churro isn’t the same thing as a shared milk shake but it’s the idea that counts, right?
I lean in to take a bite but stop when I hear Dr. Louise Levine’s words in my head.
Never eat in front of him.
It’s part of Commandment #5: Thou shall always be a Creature of Mystery.
But that churro looks really freaking good.
Stupid Commandment #5.
I pull back. “No, thanks. I ate a huge dinner.”
Tristan shrugs and takes another large bite, wiping cinnamon sugar from the corners of his lips.
“What do you want to do next?” I say, looping my arm through his and cozying up to him.
He pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and glances at the screen.
Is he checking the time? Does he have somewhere else to be? Is he going to tell me he has to go meet with the band again?
Commandment #7: Thou shall always end the date … first.
Right. Time to take action. Time to take back my control of this night. Of this relationship.
I peer at his phone screen. “Oh my God, is that the time? I really need to go. I forgot I have this big history quiz to study for.”
He tilts his head. “I thought you had history today?”
“Did I say history?” I fumble. “I meant calculus. I’m always getting those two mixed up.”
Another odd expression. I need to shut this thing down before it gets worse. I unhook my arm from his. “So, yeah, I better get going.”
I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for a great night. See you tomorrow.”
I turn and disappear into the sea of people. My legs want to run. Sprint. Fly. Get me out of here as fast as possible. Before he can say anything. Before he can ruin this day for the third time.
I compromise with a brisk power walk, feeling sweet relief when I finally get to my car.
I made it.
I did it.
I’m leaving the carnival and Tristan and I are still together!
I fish my keys out of my purse, hit the Unlock button, and swing the door open.
That’s when I hear it.
My name.
His voice.
The footsteps.
“Ellie?”
Heart pounding, stomach twisting, I turn. He’s there. Jogging to catch up with me. He slows to a stop a few feet away. “Before you go, I was hoping maybe we could talk.”
Only the Lonely
9:51 p.m.
The stairs in my house have never seemed so insurmountable. I heave my body up each step, feeling like I weigh a thousand pounds. When I passed the guest room a second ago, I could hear my dad snoring softly inside. Apparently his night didn’t get any better either.
I don’t understand.
I did everything right this time. I was the perfect commandment-following girl. I was a Creature of Ultimate Mystery. But in the end, Tristan still wasn’t mystified. He still broke up with me.
He used the same exact words. The same vague, tormented speech.
I don’t think I can do this anymore …
I’m confused, Ellie. I’m so confused. I don’t know what to tell you …
I just know that it’s not working …
“But I don’t understand!” I blubbered through my tears. More and more tears. Always tears. “I was different today. I wasn’t clingy. Yesterday you said it was because I was clingy!”
He seemed genuinely confused by this. I couldn’t blame him. It must have sounded like nonsensical babble.
“Is this about our fight? Is this about the garden gnome I threw at your head?”
He cracked