Page 46 of Eye of the Beholder
“I don’t even know which way they went,” I say, my eyes searching the corn corridor. It’s hard to see very far, even in the light of the lanterns hung every few hundred feet, but I can tell there are several options we could take—two in the leftish direction, one straight ahead, and one to the right.
“I think I saw them go this way,” Cohen says, pointing to the option on the right. “That’s all I’ve got.”
It’s better than nothing, I guess, and it’s certainly more than I can contribute. “All right,” I say. “Let’s go. Let’s walk fast; it’s cold.”
“Oh, didn’t anyone tell you?” Cohen says, and I can see him grin. “I’m here to keep you warm. Thus the three-boys-three-girls setup.”
“You’re hilarious,” I say, staring at my feet.
“I try,” he says, still grinning. His voice is pleasant, deep. I don’t know how many people are out in this corn field, but with the silence surrounding us, it feels like we’re the only ones.
“Let’s see,” I say as I eye a fork in the maze we’ve just arrived at. “Which one?”
“Let’s do left,” he says, jerking his chin to the left.
“Sounds good. And what if we get lost out here? Like, forever?”
“Simple,” he says with a shrug. “We live off corn and wait for rain.”
“I like corn,” I say with a smile.
“Frozen or canned?” he says, looking sideways at me. He stretches one hand out, letting it whisper through the stalks of corn as we walk.
“Cob,” I say. “But frozen after that. Canned anything is just…not good.”
“Agreed,” he says. He puts his hand back in his pockets and doesn’t say anything else. Neither do I, and even though I expect it to be uncomfortable, it isn’t.
We go right for the next two turns, and we come across absolutely nobody. When we take our third right turn and still see emptiness in front of us, I turn to Cohen.
“We’re lost,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. “We really are.” The light we’re passing throws the planes of his face into sharp relief—his crooked nose, his strong chin—and glints off his glasses. He doesn’t look or sound worried, but that’s fine; I can worry enough for the both of us.
“Jack and Virginia are probably off somewhere doing who-knows-what. How am I supposed to get to know him if that’s the case?” I say. “How am I supposed to get him to even look at me?”
“He’s been looking plenty,” Cohen says, glancing at me. “But all right. Calm down.”
I shoot him a glare that’s only part joking. “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to tell a girl to calm down?”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that,” he says, smiling slightly.
I nod. “It’s true. We don’t like it.”
“Duly noted,” he says, still smiling. “I just wasn’t aware it was such a universal thing.”
“It might not be, but I wouldn’t test that if I were you.” I stop in my tracks, eyeing Cohen and then eyeing the corn stalks all around us. An idea is forming in my mind. I half like it and half want to run away from it.
But we’re lost, and as ridiculous as it is to say, I did not come to this corn maze just to get lost. Plus the walls are sort of starting to feel like they’re closing in—like I’m going to be stuck here forever.
“Okay,” I say. “I have an idea.”
“That feels ominous,” Cohen says.
“It is,” I say. “Do you think you could carry me on your shoulders?”
He raises his eyebrows and turns toward me. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. So I can see where we are. I figure I’ll at least be able to see the lights of the parking lot.”
