The End of FUN (47 page)

“Which direction you coming from?”

“Nevada.”

“Then you're doing it right. Continue west.”

“On which road? How far?”

“Same road. Three point two miles. In three point two miles, you'll come to a sign that says Sugar Pine Point State Park. Turn left there.”

“Hey…so what's the food like here?”

“The food? The food here is outstanding.”

“Really?”

The man wheeled his buffer to the front of the restaurant and unlocked the door. “Why would I lie to you? What motive could I possibly have?”

“You work here.”

“Well, yes. That's true. That
is
true….” He rested his hand on the buffer and sort of spun it around.

“I was thinking of maybe taking a friend out for dinner.”

He gave it some thought. “Well, this is your place. For atmosphere and food, it can't be beat. Best place on the lake. Check out the reviews if you don't believe me. We've got over a hundred YAY!s. I see you're having FUN
®
—give a YAY! for The Pines and we'll give you a free dessert with your meal. Yes, the chef is a tyrant. All he does is work and he has no friends and he abuses the staff in ways that probably violate every labor law there is. But the man can cook—I'll say that much.”

“Who's the chef?”

“Me.”

“Oh.”

“I'm running the buffer because I just fired the afternoon help. He was annoying me again. You know those people? The ones who never have anything real to say, so instead they'll give you complete, real-time synopses of television shows? He's one of those. It's like, if you're so big on it, how about you just let me see the show myself? Then we can have an intelligent discussion, a two-way conversation, instead of this tedious monologue where you get to relive all the fun you had and I'm supposed to just sit here and be your sounding board.”

“You fired a guy for telling you about a TV show?”

“Oh, I'll probably hire him back tomorrow. It's an ongoing thing between us. He's my brother.”

And with that he started the buffer again.

OK, so YAY! for The Pines and their free desserts and helpful instructions, because 3.2 miles down the road, I came to a sign for Sugar Pine Point State Park. I turned left down the road and parked near the edge of the lot. It was a1,000 to park, and the signs said
NO DOGS ON BEACH
, but I let Bones free anyway—she immediately took off after a squirrel—and then I started crutching downhill, toward the water. It was evening, the sun low in the sky. There was an old mansion, some trees, and a pier. At the end of the pier sat a woman in a straw hat reading a book.

“Hey, you've got the entire pier to yourself.”

“Not anymore.”

“Ha. Right.”

She was wearing a swimsuit, her purple swimsuit, face hidden behind the brim of her hat and the pages of her book, which was called
It Does Not Die Under Any Condition
by Cynthia Smith, author of the It Does Not Die series, including
It Does Not Die in Sunlight
and
It Does Not Die Alone
—all available from Scare/Bait Press (YAY!).

A boat roared past, dragging an empty wakeboard. Katie turned the page.

“Good book, huh? What's it about?”

“The undead,” she said.

“What, like zombies?”

“No.”

“Mummies?”

“No.”

“Vampires? Aliens?”

“Aaron—”

I waited, but she didn't go on. Waves from the boat fanned out to the shoreline, knocking against the pilings. Water sloshed around under the pier. The water was impossibly blue—like something out of a tropical postcard.

“Look. I'm not here to bug you. I just wanted to talk. I brought some of your stuff. It's in the car. I couldn't carry it all out here because, well…” I sort of wiggled the crutches, but she didn't look up. “Katie?”

She sighed and closed her book. “OK. Let's talk.”

She set the book aside, but not on the pier. She placed it into the air next to her, and it floated there, three feet above the water, before it swelled up, popped, and disappeared. And as Katie raised the brim of her hat and looked up at me, I zoomed in on her blue eyes. Something was different. The light in them had changed. They were…less blue somehow.

“No. You didn't! You're having—?”

“FUN
®
,” she said. “Birthday present from my sister. She paid for the lenses and a one-year contract.”

“Aw, shit, Katie, you don't want to do that.”

“Why not? You're always talking about how great it is. I finally joined the modern world, right?” She fluttered her eyelids. Her gaze drifted down to my cast/boot thing. “What happened?”

“I fell in the hole.”

“Oh.”

“But I got out, and then I found the treasure, and it was all this money, but not the kind of money that's worth anything, because it was old money. But that's not important. What's important is—” I cleared my throat. I'd gone over this speech in my head about a dozen times on the drive over. “Well…I learned something. Or more like remembered. Just—how holy everything is. Which sounds silly, I know, but I mean that it's real and it's good. And I've been thinking about what you said, about a hole in us that can't be filled. But I think I know what does fill it. Love.”

And she kind of flinched at that word, but I kept going anyway. Man, it felt good to be honest for once.

“And I just want to say again how sorry I am. Because when I said to look in your heart, I meant that. And with Shiloh, I just got distracted. And when we were together, you and me—not
together
together, but just hanging out—I felt something. This, like, electricity that I'd never felt before. Those times we were hanging out, when we were looking for the treasure or whatever, it was
fun
. Not FUN
®
fun, but
real
fun.
Actual
fun. But even
more
than that. And I know I'm young and stupid, but I've been thinking about that electricity, and the only word for it is love. I'm in love with you.”

And I don't know what I expected—but I kind of know what I was hoping for. I was hoping that Katie would hear my words and that the power of my love would move her. I was hoping she'd throw her arms around my neck and my crutches would fall to the pier and we'd stand there, embracing each other, over the blue, blue water with the sun setting behind us. Because she had felt it, too. She had felt the electricity and she couldn't deny it. And later we'd go out for dinner at this really great place I knew, just 3.2 miles down the lake, and collect our free dessert.

But that isn't what happened.

Katie just sat there in silence. Waves sloshed against the pilings. Homie
™
popped up.

“Go away, Homie
™
.”

“Aaron,” she said at last. She said it slowly, carefully, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that whatever she was gonna say next, it wasn't what I'd been hoping for, and I wasn't ready for that. So I cut in.

“Hey, are you hungry? We could talk about it all over a meal. I know this really great place we could get dinner….”

She nodded at the paper bag on the pier. “I just ate.”

“Oh, well, that's OK, too. We don't have to do that. But—OK. Here.” I took the mood ring out of my pocket. “I didn't get to give this to you that night. Happy birthday. Again.”

But as I went to hand the ring to Katie, something happened. I stumbled and it fell from my hands, fell to the pier, and I watched in horror as it rolled bumpily along a couple feet, then slipped soundlessly between two of the boards. And then I was down on my hands and knees, searching for the ring, hoping beyond hope that maybe it had fallen just so. Maybe it had wedged itself between the cracks. But it was just boards and empty space and cold blue water below.

And I was ready to jump in the water and go diving for it, but I wasn't supposed to get my boot wet. I started taking it off. As I was messing with the straps, Katie started talking, and by the time she was done I'd stopped messing with the boot.

“I guess I liked the attention,” she said. “It was fun—I'm not saying it wasn't. And yes, when I was out here with my papa and sister and I lost the ring, it did make me sad, because I
do
like you, but—”

“Why does there always have to be a
but
? If you don't have any feelings for me, why'd you cry when I told you about Shiloh?”

She was kind of glaring at me now. “Because I do have feelings! And I'm sure she did, too! And just because something can't work doesn't mean I'm not sad about it.”

“Who says it can't work? You sure had your dad convinced it was working.”

“Right. Maybe I let him believe what he wanted. I shouldn't have done that. I'm always making things so complicated. It's the stupid Space Amazon. I'm sorry.”

“And I am, too! So let's forget the Space Amazon. Let's just go with—”

“Aaron. It wouldn't work.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason.”

“Because I keep telling you. Because you're still a kid. Because I'm a teacher. Because I'm moving.”

“Moving?”

“The leper mite fiasco was the final sign. It's time to get out of Antello. I've been sending out applications. I've got an interview next Wednesday.”

“Where?”

“Here. Tahoe.”

“Well, that's not so far. I could drive out on the weekends and—”

“Aaron,” she said quietly.
“Please.”

And even with the lenses over her eyes, I could still read the blue. I could see what they were saying.
Please don't make me break your heart
.

Well, but she already kind of was.