Forget Me (11 page)

B
ack when both my parents worked down the street at Stell, we had family dinner at home five nights a week. Now, that was a rare occasion. Dad usually ate on the train on the way home from the city. Mom shoved a sandwich into her mouth while driving from one job to the next. And I helped myself to whatever I could scrounge in the cabinet. I'd been planning on heating up a can of SpaghettiOs for myself when Evan dropped me off, but my parents were actually both home.

I walked through the front door, expecting the inquisition.
Where were you? Your car was in the driveway. Who were you with?
But as I slid off my shoes and padded toward the kitchen, I heard it again. That insistent whispering.

They thought I was upstairs in my room.

They hadn't even come up to say hi to me.

They were so lost in their own world that they didn't hear my footsteps, didn't notice me until I entered the kitchen.

Dad's eyes widened and he gave a slight shake of his head, a silent message to Mom that it was time to stop talking about
it.
Whatever
it
was.

I stood in front of the refrigerator, where a crayon drawing I'd made of our family hung beneath a happy-face magnet. I'd made the picture when I was eight, but Mom refused to take it down.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“Just trying to figure out what to make for dinner,” Mom said cheerily. But it was fake. Oh so fake.

“Were you fighting?” I posed the question to my dad since Mom was already halfway down Cover-Up Road.

“Of course not,” he said, joining her.

Mom made for the fridge, but I didn't budge. “Can you move, honey? I want to see what we have for food.”

“Why are you both home?” I asked. “Isn't it early?”

“It's a wonderful coincidence that we both got out early,” Mom said. “It's not often we get to have family dinners anymore.”

“Yes,” Dad piped up. “Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Wonderful. We'd moved on to clichés. Whatever was going on, they weren't about to let me in. Not tonight anyway. I moved aside to let Mom open the fridge. She smiled with her mouth closed.

Mom quickly made spaghetti and we sat around the table, eating and talking about things that didn't matter.
The weather should be warming up soon. That tree in the backyard is dead; it'll probably have to come down. How is the yearbook photography coming, Morgan?

I thought about telling them everything. That I had found a boy who looked just like Flynn. That Flynn had lied. That I'd been looking into his past, trying to figure out the truth. But the words stuck in my throat. I didn't want to worry them, to add to their stress. And—I'm not proud of this—a small part of me didn't want to share with them because I was angry that they were keeping secrets from me.

By the time I got up to my room, I had three missed calls from Toni. I crawled on top of my covers, called her back, and filled her in on everything Evan and I had found out.

“Whew.” She let out a long breath. “So how are you holding up?”

“I'm fine.”

“Hi, Morgan? This is me, Toni, your best friend. The one you actually tell the truth to.”

I let out a small laugh.

“So how about you tell me how you're
really
doing?”

I shrugged, though she couldn't see it. “Flynn was already dead, so it's not like I'm grieving all over again.”

“But?” she prodded.

“But it hurts that he lied to me about everything. And I don't know why. I don't understand it.” I think that was the worst part of it. That I didn't know
why.

And meanwhile, something was going on with my parents. Something they didn't want to burden me with. I wondered if one of them was losing their job again. If we were at risk of losing the house. My mind sprinted to all the worst-case scenarios. But I couldn't share those worries with Toni, because she was
living
the family drama that I only feared.

“What did you do today?” I asked.

She let out a dreamy sigh and started rattling off every detail of her afternoon with Reece. I was delighted that she was happy, even though I didn't fully trust Reece yet. He still hadn't proved to me that he'd left that whole Too Cool act behind. But as she relayed every “totally cute” thing he said, my mind wandered.

Why had Flynn been in River's End? Did he just pick the town randomly? Could it really be a coincidence that a boy who looked just like him lived a couple of towns over?

I looked back on certain memories differently now, knowing the truth. Like when he told me his name. Had there been any sign it was a lie? Had his eyes flicked around, taking in the surroundings . . . coming up with the last name Parkman because we were standing in a closed amusement park?

“You're not listening to me . . . ,” Toni singsonged into the phone.

“Sorry.” I groaned. “I'm a bad friend right now. I'm not all here.”

“So where are you?”

“Thinking about Flynn, the day we met, when the lies began.”

Silence hung between us for a long moment. Toni said quietly, “You still haven't been back there. To Fantasy World.”

“Not past Larry the Lion, no. But I want to. I've wanted to take more shots there for a while. I imagine they'll be the crown jewel of my portfolio of abandoned places.”

Toni snorted. “Your pictures are creepy and you are some kind of weird, Morgan Tulley. But it's time.”

“For what?”

“For you to return to the place where you met Flynn Parkman. Tomorrow after school. I'll be your moral support. Bring your camera.”

• • •

King's Fantasy World wasn't a big amusement park, even when it had been open. It billed itself as “family amusements,” which meant it was for little kids. At around ten years old it became cool to not care about the park anymore, though we all still secretly liked it as we outwardly called it lame. Kids didn't really stop coming until they were teens. But the park closed when I was twelve, so I never had the chance to fully outgrow it.

Having something taken away before you're ready to let go always hurts.

Now, Larry the Lion bared his plastic teeth at Toni and me, warning us not to go past the fence. As easily as River's End teens played at the empty Happy Time Mini Golf, we avoided King's Fantasy World. There were too many darkened corners and hidden dangers.

Toni gazed up at the fence. “Do we just . . . climb it?”

I remembered the last time I'd climbed that fence, the day I met Flynn. I'd nearly hanged myself by my camera strap while scrambling over the top. There had to be an easier way.

“Hold on a sec,” I told her. I followed the fence, letting my fingers trail along the chain-links, until I came to a sharp point.

“Oww!” I pulled my hand away.

Toni hurried to my side. “What happened?”

I squeezed my finger where an angry scratch stung my skin. “The links are cut here,” I said, realizing what I'd found.

I pulled hard, stretching the edges open as far as they'd go. “Squeeze through,” I told Toni.

She slipped inside easily, then held the hole open for me. The metal grazed my arm, fraying an inch of my sweatshirt, but I made it.

We pushed through the high hedges and then stopped for a breath. We were in.

“It's like going back in time,” Toni said.

I let my eyes take everything in. I'd spent so many hours here when it was open, running from ride to ride, following the tinny music, begging my parents for fried dough and cotton candy. But it was different now. Trash was strewn about the grounds. Grass, struggling for life, pushed its way up the cracks in the pavement.

The kiddie coaster, the park's only thrill ride, rose between overgrown trees in the distance. I could almost hear the click-clack of the car going up the hill. It seemed so small and unintimidating now. But when I was little, I thought that hill rose halfway to the clouds. I remembered the first time I rode the coaster. It was both exhilarating and completely terrifying at the same time. I thought my little heart was going to burst out of my chest. I screamed through the whole ride. When it ended, my dad turned to me with a worried look on his face and asked, “Are you all right?” Fists in the air, I yelled, “Again!”

Sure, it had been terrifying, but it was a safe scare. I knew I'd be all right in the end.

“Come on, let's walk around,” Toni said now.

We started moving forward, slowly. My camera felt heavy around my neck and I lifted it, poised and ready. A patch of moss grew in the shaded area beneath a ticket counter. I brought the camera up to my eye.
Click.
I took a shot of the Ferris wheel looming in the distance. Its bucket cars had been disassembled and sold, so only the spokes and rods were left behind, like a metal skeleton.

A plastic bag skittered past us, billowing in the wind, and I followed until it came to rest against the old refreshment stand, which was almost completely covered in graffiti. On one panel of rotting wood, giant bubble letters declared that Susan loved Chris. I zoomed in to capture it.

“Can we see the carousel?” Toni asked.

“Sure.” I vaguely remembered its location, somewhere near here.

“It's behind that kiddie car ride,” Toni said, pointing.

The kiddie cars followed a thick metal track. The steering wheels were purely ornamental, but we didn't realize that at the time, being delusional little kids. We thought we were really driving. Now the cars were rusted. One was hanging half off the track.
Click.

“There it is!” Toni cried, and rushed to the carousel.

I knew why she was so excited. The carousel had been her favorite ride. I remembered there was a pink horse that she always chose. If it was taken, she'd wait for the next ride just so she could sit on that one.

But as we approached the carousel, I couldn't tell which one was her pony. The horses were still and quiet, their paint chipped and faded. The mirror panels were so dirty, I couldn't even see a reflection. Part of me had wished they'd dismantled the ride and sold it off to live in another park somewhere. But it had been left behind to rot, choking in weeds.
Click.

Toni scowled, her excitement gone. “This place is creepy,” she complained. I didn't exactly disagree.

I remembered the day I met Flynn, the last day I'd been here. I was breaking the rules, which was unlike me, but I'd figured it was okay since it was “for my art.” We'd all been warned . . .
Bad things happen in the park. Avoid it.
But I'd figured those marauding bands of druggies and criminals only lived in parents' overprotective imaginations. This was still River's End, after all. Not the city. But, just to be safe, that day I'd planned to stay out in the open. I wasn't going to enter any of the buildings or climb onto any of the old rides. Those first few minutes inside the park . . . it had been so quiet. I'd felt completely alone. And I'd realized that was the real reason people avoided the park. Not because of any imaginary hooligans, but because it was—by nature—so damned creepy. The deeper I'd explored, the more frightened I felt.

But then I saw Flynn. And he didn't look the slightest bit nervous. He was leaning against the fun house like he owned it.

“Where to now?” Toni asked, snapping my brain back into focus. She rubbed her arms through her jacket, though it wasn't cold out.

“The fun house,” I said. “I need to see it.”

We retraced our steps to the graffiti-covered refreshment stand. I knew how to get to the fun house from there. We took a right, past the giant parallel racing slides, where cracks in the plastic carved winding paths that no person would race on again.

And there it was. Standing just as it had that day months ago.

The fun house was painted black and purple, and a giant evil clown head crowned the top of the doorway. Even though it had been cheesy and full of cheap scares, I'd loved it when I was younger. I remembered the tipsy room, the black-light hallways, the mirror maze. Even at the exit, when you thought you were safe, an air blast at your face combined with a loud horn gave you one last fright.

“It looks the same,” Toni said.

A slow smile spread across my face. “I wonder what it's like inside.”

Toni's eyes widened. “No way.”

I nodded. “Way.”

She shook her head quickly. “I won't go.”

I did my best chicken imitation, clucking and waving my elbows.

She stuck her chin out. “I'm not going to fall for that.”

Usually I was the one trying to talk her out of doing something crazy, not the other way around. “It was your idea to come here, remember? Plus, what are you scared of?”

She counted off on her fingers. “Serial-killing vagrants, rat disease, bat infestations, dead things, ghosts.”

“None of those are in there,” I assured her.

“How do you know?”

I started walking, dry grass crunching under my shoes. I called out, “I'm going in with or without you. So you can come with me . . . or stay out here
alone.
” I stretched the last word out in the creepiest voice I could muster.

“Fine!” Toni stomped up beside me. “Though I'm only coming so I can protect you from whatever horrible terror awaits you in there, because I'm the bestest best friend ever.”

I hid my grin. “I appreciate it.”

I reached the door that had been the entryway. There was no knob, and planks of wood were nailed across it.

“That's too bad,” Toni said, already backing away. “Oh well, we tried!”

I held my hand out. “Slow your roll, chicken. There's another way.” I pointed to the side of the building, where the exit had been.

Toni's mouth dropped open. “No, no, no.” She sounded like a toddler on her way to a tantrum. “That's where they blow the horn in your face and the air blasts at you.”