15. Knox
Knox
Idon’t wake until Ella gently shakes my back.
“Hey, someone’s at the door for you.”
“Tell them to fuck off,” I say, my face buried in my pillow.
“It’s Sawyer.”
Blinking, I sit up slowly, stifling a groan from the pain. “What time is it?”
“Around noon. I didn’t want to bother you while you were resting.”
With the door open, I can hear my parents talking to someone on speaker downstairs. Whoever it is sounds serious. Then it all hits me at once. The accident. Owen. All the shit that needs to get done today.
I wish I could pull the blanket over my head and stay here all day. But Sawyer needs me.
“Alright,” I finally groan. “I’ll be right down.”
She nods and leaves me to brush my teeth and throw on some clothes. A solid night’s sleep helped but my body still feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder. I doubt it’ll feel better anytime soon. But I hurry downstairs, ignoring the soreness. Sawyer’s here and I need to see why.
My parents barely look at me as I pass them in the great room and I’m grateful. Whatever they’re doing, whoever’s on the phone, isn’t nearly as important as Sawyer.
Ella points to the front door. “She’s outside. I tried to invite her in but I don’t think she felt comfortable.”
I peek through the window and spot Helen’s Toyota idling at the end of the driveway, far enough away that she’d barely be spotted on our security cameras.
And there’s Sawyer, standing on the porch in Owen’s college sweatshirt.
It’s like someone punched me straight in the fractured ribs.
Her light hair is pulled up and she looks about as well as I expected.
Visible bruises, puffy eyes, dark circles.
Even so, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I open the door and shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“Thorne, everything okay?”
“I need the locker code.” She doesn’t greet me, doesn’t smile, doesn’t even acknowledge that she knows me better than just about any person out there.
It takes me a second to process what she’s asking. Velocity—the locker with our stuff.
“0724.”
She blinks when realization hits her. It’s her birthday. My code for everything.
“Right,” she hesitates. “Thanks.”
She turns to leave and I’m already moving before I think about it. “Wait.” I step onto the porch. “I can go get them. The phones. I’ll drive to Wonder World, bring yours back to you. You don’t have to—”
“No.”
“Sawyer—”
“I said no.” She wraps her arms around herself, that hoodie swallowing her frame. “I need to go myself.”
Her brows are furrowed and lips set in a straight line. There’s no talking her out of this.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“Knox. You don’t—”
“You’re not going there alone.”
We stare at each other, neither backing down. Her thought process is clear on her face, she’s weighing her options, and decidedly not arguing with me on this is the easiest choice.
“Fine,” she says. “But we go now and get it over with.”
I glance back at the house. “Let me grab my dad’s keys.”
“My mom will drive us.”
I shift to lean against the doorframe, running a hand through my messy hair. Helen’s staring out the window, her eyes wide, like she’s looking at a house of horrors or something.
“She said she would?”
“She was bringing me anyway. Just…go get your shoes.” She peeks past me, curiosity getting the best of her. “I don’t want to be here for a second longer than I have to.”
She turns to walk down the driveway, not waiting for me, and I watch her speak to Helen through the open car window.
Hurrying back inside, I run up to grab some socks and my sneakers. Ella comes out of the bathroom as I’m about to head back down.
“You’re leaving?” Disappointment is written all over her face.
“Yeah, just for an hour or two,” I say, starting down the stairs. “I have to go get my phone and my Jeep from the park.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
I can tell she wants to say more, but I don’t have time for that. “My mom could really use your help this afternoon.” I take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “And I’ll come right back to help with everything as soon as I can.”
Her lips tip up in a small smile. “Okay. I’ll go see what your mom needs.”
“You’re the best.” I kiss her cheek and rush out the front door leaving her staring after me.
The drive to Wonder World consists of Helen vaguely questioning me about my father, me trying to answer without the memory of how I found them in my father’s office creeping back into my mind, and Sawyer doing her best to ignore me.
The closer we get, the more the air in the car feels like it’s being sucked out.
Helen’s breathing shallows. Sawyer’s leg starts bouncing. My chest tightens.
When the park comes into view with that fucking clown on the sign, Helen makes a sound in her throat like a wounded animal.
“I can’t…I can’t look at it.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” Sawyer sounds steady somehow, even though her hands are shaking. “Just drop us at the entrance. I’ll see you later.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’re sure.”
Helen pulls into the parking lot. It’s packed with families unloading, excited for a day of fun. Sawyer’s breath catches as she looks out the window. I follow her gaze and find Owen’s car parked down the row from my Jeep, covered in a thin layer of pollen.
Abandoned, because he’s gone.
I swallow hard and make a mental note of where it’s parked. We’ll have to get his keys while we’re here also.
There’s a few news vans scattered throughout the lot. Not as many as there probably were two days ago, but enough to piss me off. A few people with cameras are stationed near the entrance, waiting like vultures.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“We can avoid them,” Sawyer says. “We’ll just walk up and pay like normal visitors. Keep our heads down.”
Helen parks near the entrance, but before we get out, she takes Sawyer’s hand. “You don’t have to do this. We can call the park. Have them mail your things.”
“That’ll take too long.” Sawyer squeezes her mom’s hand. “I’ll be okay. Knox is with me.”
Helen looks at me through the rearview mirror. There’s a mix of disdain and pleading in her eyes as she blinks back tears.
“Take care of her.”
“I will.”
We get out and Helen drives away quickly, like she can’t stand to be here another second. I don’t blame her. The place looks wrong. Too cheerful. Too normal. Like it’s completely ignoring the carnage that just happened.
Sawyer and I stand on the sidewalk, staring at the entrance.
“I can’t believe they’re open,” she says, wrapping her arms around her chest.
“Un-fucking-believable.” I watch a group of teenagers walk right by us, laughing as they head to the ticket counter.
“They must have only closed Velocity.”
I glance in that direction, but don’t see anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t know.”
We walk toward the entrance and get our answer. There’s a sign: Velocity is temporarily closed for inspection. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Inconvenience.
Like it’s a fucking broken water fountain.
“This is insane,” I say.
Sawyer stares at the sign for another moment before sniffing and looking away. “Let’s just get this over with.”
We buy tickets at the window, the employee doesn’t even look at us twice, and walk through the turnstiles. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
The park is full of people. Families eating funnel cake. Kids screaming on the carousel. Normal. Everything is so fucking normal.
“I can’t believe they’re just...operating like nothing happened,” she whispers.
“Money.” It comes out harsh because I don’t have an ounce of care in my soul for assholes like these park owners. “Why close the whole park when you can just close one ride and keep the revenue coming in?”
She shakes her head. “That’s disgusting.”
We hurry past a news crew, cameras out, interviewing a staff member.
“Is it just me, or is the park even busier than usual?” Sawyer asks, taking in the long lines at the rides around us and the packed game booths.
I scoff, seeing exactly what she sees. “People are fucking sick…morbid curiosity, probably.”
The closer we get to Velocity, the stronger my pulse pounds. I hate that this place has become something of my nightmares, obscuring all the amazing memories I’ve made here.
Up ahead, I spot a group of teenagers clustered around the caution tape, phones out, recording. They’re not even trying to be subtle about it as they point at the ride, doing that thing where they talk to their cameras like they’re fucking news anchors.
“—and this is where it happened,” one of them says, panning his phone across the scene. “A bunch of people died here two days ago.”
“Look,” Sawyer taps my arm, pointing.
I follow the direction of her finger and see what she does. A shrine.
Near the cordoned off entrance to Velocity, people have started building a memorial.
Teddy bears pile on top of each other, some new and plush, others worn like they came from someone’s childhood.
Flowers, mostly wilted now in the June heat, lean against the metal barriers.
Photos of the victims are taped to poster boards, their smiling faces frozen in time.
Handwritten notes on notebook paper flutter in the breeze.
We’ll never forget you. Gone too soon. Rest in peace, angels.
There are dozens of candles, the wax melted and hardened into globular pools on the concrete. Someone left a heart-shaped balloon bouquet, the foil catching the sunlight.
And right in the center is Owen’s senior portrait. The one mom loves because it shows off his perfect smile.
I feel sick to my stomach.
Then I look up. Behind the memorial is the ride itself, or what’s left of it. They’ve cleaned up most of the debris but there are still marks. Dark stains on the concrete that bring bile up to my throat.
The loading platform sits empty. No operators, no maintenance crew, no security. It’s shocking that they’ve deserted it like this.