Paz
11:34 a.m.
Death-Cast didn’t call, so I get to live it up with Alano, who better not die on me.
This is only the second Begin Day, but life is already feeling more promising, even after yesterday’s BPD freak-outs (we’re
at zero so far today), all thanks to the most thoughtful person in the world. Opening up about the self-harm has honestly
made me feel lighter. I believe I can commit to my promise to never self-harm again as long as nothing crazy-bad happens,
like someone hurting Alano. Or worse.
I don’t think I could survive Alano’s death.
That’s not the only thing I’m on edge about.
The entire ride to Universal, I was battling anxiety over how I might get treated in the park. If I’m recognized, will I get
harassed? Attacked? Would Alano’s bodyguard help out if something is going down? Or will Alano fight for my life and get killed
in the process? I don’t know, but to get out of the spiral I kept asking questions about Alano’s best friend Rio to get up
to speed. I got the basics, like how Alano met Rio and even what went down with their other best friend, Ariana, before the
assassination attempt.
We park in the E.T. parking lot and go through the CityWalk, where there’s all these shops and restaurants, on our way to meet Rio outside Voodoo Doughnut. The promenade is packed with people decked out in fandom shirts and gear, including crimson Scorpius Hawthorne robes even though it’s so hot out. I’m getting anxious again, but nothing is beating the electrifying nerves once I see the sign for Voodoo Doughnut. I can’t believe I’m about to meet one of Alano’s best friends. That I’m crashing an afternoon that was planned for the two of them (plus Dane, I guess). It’s either a good sign for how Alano feels about me or a test for how I would fit in his social circle.
A guy walks toward us. I’m about to take up a religion so I have a god to pray to because I hope this isn’t Rio—he’s so breathtakingly,
intimidatingly beautiful. He’s got an Alano vibe, but like Alano’s messier alter ego. Unbrushed dark curls like he just rolled
out of bed, a wrinkled Luigi T-shirt, and patchy stubble. It all works, like when a celebrity is photographed in nothing but
an undershirt and sweats and still looks hot. That’s why it sucks when Alano says, “Hi, Rio.”
“Hi,” Rio says, giving Alano a quick hug before finishing his éclair and licking his fingers clean. He turns to me. Rio’s
eyes are so dark, I think they might even be black. “Nice to meet you, .” He goes in for a handshake before remembering
he just sucked up all the chocolate off his fingers, so we bump elbows instead.
“Thanks for letting me tag along,” I tell Rio.
“No worries.” Rio reaches into his drawstring backpack and pulls out a red Mario T-shirt that he tosses to Alano. “I got this for you,” he tells him.
“This is awesome,” Alano says.
As Alano quickly swaps his plain white shirt for the Mario one, Rio turns to me. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“It’s all good,” I say.
I’m trying not to read into this. It’s just a T-shirt. I mean, they’re Super Mario Bros., not Super Mario Boyfriends. If there
was something going down between Alano and Rio, then Alano would’ve filled me in, or not invited me at all, so I can’t risk
getting into anything with Rio over nothing. If Alano has to choose between me and his best friend, I already know what’s
going down.
Dane comes over, going through his protocol of what his supervising will look like through the park. Basically, where Alano
goes, Dane goes, which we figured, but he’ll allow for some exceptions, like select roller coasters and dining. If we go our
own way, that’s on us. “If you see anyone suspicious, alert me.”
“How do we know if someone is suspicious?” Rio asks. “We didn’t go to spy school.”
“Weren’t you an aspiring detective?” Dane asks.
“Key word is ‘aspiring.’?”
Dane swallows a sigh. “Suspects will have tells. It can be anything from a disingenuous smile to lure you into a false sense of security, saying too much to distract you from a threat, excessive fidgeting or sweating, avoiding eye contact or downright staring—”
“What if they’re staring because we’re all beautiful?” Rio interrupts.
Dane glares at him.
“You’re included in that!”
Dane keeps glaring.
“Now you’re staring for a really long time, so do I report you to yourself or just run away?”
“Run away,” Alano says, laughing.
I like their dynamic. Today’s gonna be fun.
Dane finishes going through other tells someone might possess before advising that Alano keep his sunglasses on at all times,
even indoors, which Rio jokes won’t be suspicious at all. It definitely makes sense, though; I haven’t even known Alano that
long and I’ve personally witnessed him getting recognized a lot.
“Very last thing,” Dane says. “Guns are prohibited in the park, so I am not and will not be armed.”
Any doubts of whether Rio is familiar with my past have been shot, and he’s looking at me as if I might shoot him next. I hope he’s not a fan of the docuseries. I try ignoring the weight of his gaze, but I can’t. My spiral is sucking me in, triggering memories of shooting Dad and aiming my gun at Alano and how ready I was to kill that Death Guarder even without being sure that I would die too. I’m telling myself over and over that I am the biggest threat in this group and Rio is right to fear for his life, even after we walk through the theme park’s metal detectors that prove I’m unarmed. I still don’t feel innocent even though I know I have no bad intentions.
My heart races when Alano grabs my hand, pulling me aside.
“You’re in your head,” Alano says. “Come back to me, .”
His voice and touch brings me back and grounds me. “H-how did you know I was in my head?”
“You have a tell.”
“I do?”
“Avoidance. Instead of expressing how you feel, you keep it to yourself. I’ve observed a couple times when you’re so deep
in your head that you can’t even hear me calling you.”
I’ve noticed this about myself a lot, especially this year, but I never thought of it as a tell. I try to frame it in my head
that Alano knowing me so well is a sign of our connection, but then I look over to find Rio and Dane staring at me too, and
it only makes me think of myself as some mentally deranged boy with a dangerous past who must look like I’m plotting my next
attack.
“Breathe with me,” Alano says, holding my hands.
I stare at my reflection in his sunglasses, wishing I could see his eyes instead of myself. I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the green in Alano’s right iris and the brown in his left, how they’re calming like nature, how happy he was when I gave him the vanitas vase I chose because it matches his eyes, how he said it was the most thoughtful gift he ever received, and how happy that made me because I’m sure he’s received some amazing presents growing up with rich parents but the twenty-two-dollar vase I bought at a flea market won anyway. And maybe I’m stupid to believe that, but unless I can figure out Alano’s tells for any lies the way he has figured out mine for when I’m lost in my head, then I’m just gonna believe every damn word he says because he’s never done anything to make me doubt him. I exhale and open my eyes, finding Alano smiling. My reflection’s too.
“Thanks-slash-sorry,” I say.
“You’re welcome–slash–don’t apologize,” Alano says.
“Is Rio gonna think I’m a freak?”
“He might not know your tell, but we all have dark pasts and can recognize when someone is being haunted by theirs.”