He just grins back at me. “You say that like it’s supposed to be a bad thing.”
A warning siren goes off in my head at the sound of Jase’s name being called, and we both sit up to see a group of people our age making their way over to us. I don’t recognize any of them, but by the way they’re dressed in regular, department store clothes, I can assume they’re not associated with the Untouchables.
Jase and I stand, brushing the sand off ourselves as he fills me in. The two girls, Rebecca and Amy, and three guys, Billy, Travis, and Tyler, met Jase during a party down in Allendale at the beginning of the summer. He introduces me to them, and I’m a little nervous at first, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Will someone point out the obvious? Am I going to be the butt of the joke? Or are they all secretly thinking it and just too polite to say anything? A.k.a.“Did he lose a bet or something? Why the hell would someone like Jase Rivers be hanging out with this geek?”
I expect everyone to treat me the way Vanessa’s friends do, like I’m not even here. Blythe made sure to tell them about my social anxiety, so they either act like I’m contagious or think that by ignoring me, I’ll feel better not being put on the spot. But really, it just sucks. You can’t work at overcoming something if no one lets you try, and being treated like a leper twists the knife in deeper.
It feels like playing mental double-dutch, trying to find the right moment to jump into their conversation and say something. When I dare to, I’m still anticipating everybody to eyeball Jase with a shared look that screams,“Why did you bring her?”
But no one does. Amy even asks Jase if she can “steal [his] girlfriend for a minute” before pulling me away over to Rebecca. The sheer insanity that she’d actually mistaken me for that has me so bowled over that I can’t operate my mouth well enough to correct her.
I may as well be having an out-of-body experience, because the two girls start gossiping with me like I’m one of their friends from school. Assuming I’mwithJase and therefore have been attending parties with him, they want to know if I’ve heard of someone named Asher. Apparently, Amy made out with this mystery guy last week, but he dipped out of the party early and she never got his last name or number. Perhaps things really are that different down at Camden High, because they seem nice. And not a fake nice, like Sienna, where the act only lasts as long until you prove to be no use to her.
Even after I tell them I’m not familiar with someone named Asher, they don’t blow me off or walk away. They invite Jase and me to join their group as they venture through the festival.
Since everyone has just eaten and doesn’t want to barf, we make the wise decision not to go on any rides apart from the Ferris wheel, opting for the funhouse and then a variety of booths. We play Milk Cans, Balloon Darts, Pick-A-Duck, the ring toss, and countless shooting contests. Even with my arcade prowess, the chance of winning most of the carnival games is virtually impossible given they’re rigged, but that doesn’t make it any less fun.
Though Jase has never participated in the school’s baseball program, he’s eager to play a round when we eventually pass the pitching booth. It’s set up so that the player has to throw the ball into a small target area where the cartoon depiction shows the catcher’s mitt. The circular hole cut out of the display barely looks big enough to fit the ball, but it doesn’t deter him.
He gets three chances to make it, and on the second try, the baseball sails clean through. The crowds around us cheer and applaud as the booth worker motions to his choice of prizes.
“What do you think?” he ponders, stroking his chin in mock deliberation. “Giant stuffed gorilla or giant stuffed unicorn?”
I laugh. “I’d say, ‘giant red flag,’ because that’s exactly what it’ll be when you stroll back into the country club later with a three-foot-tall stuffed animal.”
He just shoots me a grin before leaning over the counter to say something to the worker that I can’t hear over the music and crowd. The employee looks confused but nevertheless nods, heading to the collection of smaller stuffed animals to grab a ten-inch tall penguin sporting an Uncle Sam red, white, and blue hat.
Sure enough, the moment he hands it over to Jase, Jase hands it to me, cuing a chorus of “Awww”s from Amy and Rebecca.
Since I’ll have the same problem at the country club later, just on a smaller scale, I’m about to object, but Jase presses his finger over my lips.
“Relax, Birdie,” he assures, slinging his backpack over to his shoulder to show me how much room is available inside it. “I can smuggle in little Sammy here just fine, and I’ll give him back to you tomorrow.”
He slings his arm around my shoulder, turning me in the direction of the beach. I hug the penguin in front of me, smiling like an idiot as we make our way back to the shore. With the sun having finally set, everyone’s been evacuated from the sand. I’ve never been toanybeach after dark, so I didn’t realize it’s illegal here. Given the amount of liquor served inside the festival, along with the many beer stands, a number of the adults are clearly tipsy. Also, there are still a lot of little kids here, so not wanting anyone wandering around near the water in the dark is understandable.
That doesn’t mean we’re not allowed on the pier. It’s elevated above the beach and juts out across the water. A lot of people already occupy it, so we can only get as far as the space above the sands.
Between the breeze blowing off the shore and the lack of sunlight, a chill nips my skin. Within seconds of goosebumps forming, I feel warm cotton draping over my shoulders and look down to find Jase’s zip-up sweatshirt he had apparently packed. It’s no secret I get cold easily, and I expect to hear a variation of what everyone apart from my sister always says.“You need to put some meat on those bones to help insulate yourself.”
But Jase just wraps his arms around me, using his body to shield mine as people push their way through the crowds. We move over to the side until we’re against the railing, and Travis returns a few minutes later, discreetly handing each of us a bottle of some malt liquor beer I’ve never heard of. Given that most of the people around us appear to be teenagers themselves (and also in possession of alcohol), we don’t really have to hide. Still, everyone’s downing the beverage more quickly than we should, just happy in our teenage rebellion of getting our hands on any liquor. I don’t expect it to taste good, but the natural juices in it make the drink surprisingly sweet. There’s also a trash can nearby, so I’m able to discard the bottle the second I’m done.
With each of us only getting one drink, nobody’s at risk of getting shitfaced. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel any effects. Warmth pools in my stomach, and my muscles ease under Jase’s hold as everybody sways to the music. I haven’t felt anxious for hours, believing to already be calm, so I’m surprised how much more relaxed I am now. I can’t fight my smile, especially when the fireworks begin. There’s a sandbar not too far off the shore, and someone has set up an entire show from there, letting the blaze of lights shoot up into the night sky and reflect over the water.
Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” plays behind us, and Jase sings the Weird Al parody lyrics into my ear, only making my smile grow so wide that it threatens to split my face.
It doesn’t escape me, how surreal this is.
This is whatnormalfeels like. I’m a normal teenager, doing normal teenage things, and I’m not falling apart like everybody said I would. This is what it feels like to have friends, and to laugh, and to not be on guard all the time.
And it’s a moment I want to live in forever.
Five minutes into the display, the rev of what sounds like half a dozen weed whackers comes from our left down on the beach. I try to make out the source in the darkness, hearing it only grow louder as it draws closer. The noise becomes more distinct, as do the silhouettes accompanying it.
Four dirt bikes race along the length of the beach, all with passengers on the backs. And when I say race, I mean it. They tear across the shoreline, only gaining momentum. Jase explains it’s necessary, since the slower you go on this terrain, the more you tend to sink into the sand. For how fast they’re going, it looks like it would be scary as hell, especially seeing two of the bikes briefly fishtail. That doesn’t deter anyone on board though. Those not driving throw their heads back once they hit a straight, flat stretch of the beach, holding their arms out on either side as they howl up at the night sky.
“What do you say?” Jase whispers to me, his arms still wrapped around my middle as he holds me from behind. “Want to try it? They say it feels like you’re flying, especially when you’re on the back.”
I can imagine why.
