Chapter 146
I knew just where I’d be able to find Reagan, Zach, and McKenna—and I had timed it so that when they walked through the entrance to Cars Land, I would be waiting there, peace offering in hand. As I saw them coming, I took a deep breath and told myself that it would be okay.
I’d been through every other permutation of this, after all.
I’d done the wrong thing, taken the easy way out, so many times now.
And I knew that trying to do the right thing—not just feinting at it or doing the bare minimum and expecting that to make a difference—was the only thing that was going to make things better. Or at least be a start.
“And then I want to go on the swings,” I heard Reagan say as I stepped into their path.
“Hi, Reagan,” I said, giving them a wave. “Hey, Zach. Hey, McKenna.”
“Hello!” McKenna said cheerfully, waving back. Then she paused. “Wait, have we met?”
“Cass?” Reagan asked. They looked at Zach, whose eyes were wide. “Cass Issac?”
“It’s me,” I said, taking a small step closer. “I’m really happy to see you here. I just wanted to apologize.”
Reagan frowned and crossed their arms over their chest. “Apologize?”
“I should have never just left like that—and then not stayed in touch with you. It was a really awful thing to do. I know it hurt you, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” They blinked a few times, then looked at Zach, who seemed equally thrown by all this. McKenna, however, was watching with rapt attention, like it was a particularly interesting TV show she’d stumbled upon.
“Ooh, what did you do?” she asked eagerly.
Zach took a breath. “Well…” he started, but I jumped in.
“I was a bad friend,” I said, feeling the truth of my words deep in my gut as I spoke them. I saw Reagan’s face change, taking this in. “And you were a really good friend.” I shook my head. “I know there’s no undoing the way I behaved. But I wanted to let you know how sincerely sorry I am.”
“Well—okay,” Reagan said slowly. “I…Thanks for saying that, Cass.”
“And!” I held up the bag I’d gotten from the Cozy Cone. “I bought you all some churros. I’m really sorry I didn’t bring them to your birthday party. I hope this helps.”
Reagan gave me a small smile as they took the bag from me. “It does.”
“Can you have one with us?” Zach asked, as he eagerly opened the bag. Even from a few feet away, I could smell the heavenly churro aroma wafting out.
I checked the time, then shook my head. “I have to get going.”
“Take one for the road,” Reagan said, holding the bag out to me.
“Really?”
They nodded, and I reached in and grabbed one. It was still warm, and I took a bite of the sweet cinnamon goodness. “Thank you.”
Reagan gave me a nod. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”
I smiled. “I hope so.” They smiled back, and we had a nice moment—until I remembered I had to get all the way over to the Ferris wheel. “Bye!” I called, as I hustled away.
“Who even was that?” I heard McKenna ask before I got out of earshot.
I smiled as I started to run, eating my churro as I went.
I couldn’t help thinking about the look on Reagan’s face when they’d forgiven me—and how good it felt.
Like something heavy had just been lifted off my shoulders.
Something that had been there so long, I’d just gotten used to it—and had forgotten that things could be any other way.
I walked up to the Ferris wheel and took a deep breath before I chose the line for the swinging cars.
I didn’t want to go on this ride again—but I knew, deep in my bones, that I had to.
There was a group of four ahead of me, all wearing purple sweatshirts from a school in La Jolla, and they were tall enough to block me from view.
Of all the stops on my apology tour tonight, this one was the trickiest to time—mostly because I could aim to be in the right place at the right time, but there were still a lot of moving parts, including literal moving parts.
But if I could pull it off—and I was hoping that I could—I knew it would be the perfect way to try to make things up to Greta and Nora.
I also knew that we would be in line for ten minutes, which was just the window I needed.
I took out my notebook, drew in a deep breath, and then started to write.
It wasn’t easy—facing up to how you’ve let people down never is—but as I reached the end of the letter, and the line had moved up to the front, I knew I’d said what I needed to.
I dropped the notebook back in my bag and double-checked the plastic bag from the gift shop, making sure that what I’d bought there was still safe and sound. Then I peered around the La Jolla group, to see Greta and Nora in front of them. Just like I’d planned on.
The cast members were getting people settled in the swinging cars, and I moved forward automatically, keeping my eyes on my old quiz bowl teammates, who were laughing at something on Greta’s phone.
They stepped up to get on their car, and the cast member looked at the La Jolla group behind them. “How many?” she asked.
“Four,” they chorused, which was my moment.
“I’m a single rider!” I said, raising my hand but not stepping out of line or letting myself be seen—not yet.
“Great,” the cast member said with a smile. “Come on up. Any other single riders?”
“Me!” I heard a voice behind me say. I turned around and saw, to my shock, that I recognized him—it was Tristram/Doug.
He wasn’t yet in his Eton Mess outfit, and I realized as I looked at him that I’d never seen him wear anything else.
He was in jeans and a sweatshirt that read CHICAGO!
above the city’s skyline. I blinked at him for a moment, wondering how this was happening—how I could have missed him in my recon.
But in fairness, I hadn’t been spending a lot of time looking behind me.
I had been more focused on figuring out how I could get myself in the right car.
“Excellent!” the cast member said. “Single riders, step on up!”
I looked around her and saw that Greta and Nora were already in the car. I walked forward—at the same time that Tristram/Doug did. We bumped shoulders, and he took a step back.
“Sorry, go ahead,” he said, using his real American accent.
“Thanks, Doug,” I said automatically. His eyes went wide, and I tried to backtrack. “I mean—Tristram?”
“Do we know each other?” He started off sounding American but veered toward what I was pretty sure was supposed to be a British accent at the end, like he wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be.
“Single riders!” the cast member called again, and I hurried forward, feeling like we were holding up the line.
I hadn’t foreseen the Tristram/Doug part of all of this, but I tried to tell myself that it would be okay.
That this development might even help with the last—and most complicated—part of tonight.
The part that I couldn’t even let myself think about, or I’d get too nervous I wasn’t going to pull it off.
I just had to keep doing this in sections. One piece at a time, and not letting myself get overwhelmed by everything that needed to happen in a pretty short period of time. And my focus right now was Greta and Nora.
I got into the car before Tristram/Doug and sat down.
He followed, sitting next to me, and I could see he still looked freaked out—like his cover had just been blown.
“Have we met before?” he asked in a low voice.
He was still alternating accents every few words, which had the effect of making him sound Australian.
“Kind of? It’s—I’ll explain later.”
“Explain what?” he asked, as the cast member stuck their head in the door.
“All set? You know you’re on the swinging cars?”
I nodded, resigned, wishing that someone had pointed this out to me the first time around. “All set,” I echoed.
Greta and Nora looked over at me, and their eyes widened in shock. The ride jolted forward, rising up, and I gave them a smile. “Oh, hey, guys.”