Chapter 12 #2
“I’m sorry, y’all have something to say?” Brooklyn called over his shoulder.
“What? I’m just trying to get some funnel cake,” Stella shot back, which got Nikki to laugh.
Brooklyn stopped abruptly and grabbed my arm, pointing at one of the baseball throwing games.
“I’m doing that,” he said.
Stella scoffed. “You know there’s other ways to stroke your ego, dear brother.”
“I always need my ego stroked,” Brooklyn replied, and before Stella could respond, he pulled me in the direction of the booth.
It seemed to be a typical baseball toss carnival game: six cans were stacked neatly on a wooden pedestal, and if you knocked all of them over in a certain number of throws, you’d win.
To me, all carnival and boardwalk games were the same, designed to sucker people in by making it seem easy enough at first and giving you a false sense of confidence.
You’d hit a few, but it was always impossible to knock them all down, so you’d throw more money down, telling yourself you were just close enough to try again.
Eventually you’d walk away defeated, with no stuffed teddy bears and an empty wallet.
The kid running the booth couldn’t have been older than seventeen. His shaggy blond hair flopped into his face, which was turned downward, engrossed in his phone. He looked up at us with a deadpan expression.
“If you can knock them all down in three throws, it’s free,” he said with a shrug.
Brooklyn elbowed me. “What do you want?” he asked, gesturing up at the array of large plushies that hung above the booth.
“You haven’t even thrown a ball yet. Besides, didn’t you have surgery on your arm?”
“Do you know how Tommy John surgery works?” he asked me.
I shook my head, and he leaned down closer to me, as if he was letting me in on some big secret.
“To repair the torn ligament, they use a grafted tendon from another part of your body, and it’s usually your ass.
Most guys come back stronger after the surgery because of it. ”
I scoffed. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.” He popped his lips, casually flicking the baseball up in the air and catching it with the same hand. “I’ve got a scar and everything. I’ll leave that to your imagination.”
“Oh, thanks.” I snickered.
“Well, we’re going to get fried Oreos, because nobody else wants to watch you show off,” Stella interjected, pulling away both Alec and my sister.
When I made eye contact with Nikki, I half expected to see some semblance of panic, but there was none.
In fact, she grinned a wide white-toothed grin at me before folding into the crowd.
Normally the obvious conspiring against me would be annoying, but it was nice to see her starting to really trust herself again.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Brooklyn nudged me, forcing my attention back to him and the way he effortlessly rolled the ball between his hands. God, even the way the muscles and ligaments in hands flexed was attractive.
I tried to blink the thoughts away. “Sorry, what question?”
“What do you want?” He pointed back up at the comically large plushies.
“Okay, hotshot, I’ll humor you. That one.” I pointed at a big green plush of Reptar from Rugrats.
“Good choice.” He smirked before taking a measured step back.
In one fluid, effortless motion he drew his arm back and threw the ball with perfect precision, hitting the bottom left can and causing half of the stack to topple.
He picked up the second ball and glanced back at me for what felt longer than only a moment, his lips lifting into a faint smirk.
Then he threw the ball with such force it knocked the rest of the cans clean off the pedestal and hit the back of the booth with a booming thud.
Because of course he had the skill and the wherewithal to outmatch a carnival game, and while I had anticipated that, I was still surprised at how skillful he was.
“You’re not half bad,” I offered coyly.
“Good thing I told you to pick your prize in advance.” He nodded at the Reptar plush as the kid working the booth got it down with a long hook.
“Were you trying to impress me?” I asked him as I was handed the plush.
“That depends. Were you impressed?”
“Maybe a little bit.” I allowed my smile to soften.
“Hey, I know you,” the kid piped up. “You were that baseball prodigy from Montgomery Prep. I recognize you from the pictures in the trophy case outside the gym. You still hold like five state records.”
Brooklyn grinned sheepishly. “That’s me.”
Based on my lukewarm knowledge of sports culture in the South, I half expected the kid to ask for Brooklyn’s photo or something, but he abruptly frowned instead. “Didn’t you get arrested and kicked off of the team at Clayton? My dad said you were in jail or something.”
My body lurched forward ready to defend Brooklyn (for what, I wasn’t even sure), but he gently put a hand to my forearm, holding me in place.
“Not yet,” he said to the kid. “Thanks for the prize.”
We walked through the carnival quietly and made our way to where the parking lot met the edge of the harbor pier, the faint sound of an Oasis song fluttering from an unseen speaker.
I clutched Reptar tightly against my chest, and he wasn’t nearly as soft as I expected him to be, but that’s carnival prizes for you.
Brooklyn leaned with his back against the railing of the pier. He took a long, heaving breath, his eyes closed and his head tilted back into the dusky sky. I leaned next to him, my stomach pressed against the railing.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Brooklyn dropped his head and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t let what that stupid kid said bother you.” I gently placed my hand on top of his, still gripping the railing of the pier. “You’re not that guy anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter what I am now.” He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “People only care about what I was, and they’re always going to enjoy picking at my scabs.”
I looked down at the beach, where high tide had rushed in, filling pockets of sand with foaming salty water. It must have been a twenty-foot drop from the pier into the shallow tide below us.
“Then prove them wrong,” I told him. “You absolutely can, because you’ve done it already.”
Brooklyn blew out another heavy sigh and shook his head. “I don’t even think you realize how good of a person you are.”
My heart swelled. “You are too.”
“Come on.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be like that. I mean it, you know.”
“So do I.”
I looked down at the ocean rushing in below us, and when I looked back up at Brooklyn, his eyes shone just as blue and just as deep as the water.
When you stood at the edge of the cliff, sometimes there was this overwhelming desire to jump, despite knowing the danger.
It was called l’appel du vide—the call of the void.
Somewhere in the breeze, I must have heard it calling, and suddenly I was very aware of how close we were now, felt goose bumps prickle up my arms in anticipation.
The call of the void was also often brief, which typically prevented you from actually putting yourself in danger. Even if I wasn’t in any actual danger, I was scared. Scared of what this could become. There were so many unknowns, and to me, there was nothing more frightening than that.
“We, um.” I recoiled, feeling the adrenaline in my body kick in. “We should rescue Alec from Nikki and your sister.”
Brooklyn exhaled a sharp breath. Something flickered behind his eyes (regret? guilt? or something else entirely?), but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“Yeah. Good idea.”
We started walking again, slower this time, as if we were trying to preserve whatever this moment was. For someone who talked as much as he did, when he was silent, it said more than words ever could.
“Hey, will you do me a favor?” he asked, pulling me back to the surface.
“That depends.”
“Come on the Ferris wheel with me.” He pointed across the fair at the Ferris wheel, and my heart dropped into my stomach.
“Brooklyn, I hate heights.” I groaned. “Besides, shouldn’t we—”
“I told you, they’re fine.” He extended his hand to me. “Now, come on. I got you.”
I glanced over his shoulder at the creaking metal monstrosity. I had to admit, it looked pretty with all the lights decorating it, just starting to give off a glow against the darkening sky.
So I took his hand, and he didn’t let go.
The line moved quickly, and before I could catch my breath, we were loaded onto one of the cold metal seats, slowly swaying back and forth with our legs dangling over the side.
I felt the weight of Brooklyn’s arm gently draped over my shoulder, and let myself unwind a little.
He was warm and comfortable and everything a person should be.
My stomach churned at every creaking lurch, forward and upward higher into the sky. When we reached the top, the wheel groaned to a stop again, the chair still gently swinging.
“Jeez.” I sighed. I kept my eyes down, intently focused on a chip in the red paint of the metal chair.
“See? It’s fine,” Brooklyn said. “It’s totally fine. Look around. It’s actually really nice up here.”
After a few deep breaths, I glanced up and out at the world in front of us.
Night had taken over, and all the lights from below were nothing more than little specks of color against the dark.
A salty breeze blew in from the ocean, and even though I knew it was right below us, it sounded far, far away.
It was quiet. A peaceful, honest quiet that I didn’t realize I needed until that moment.
But after a few seconds, I realized we were still perched at the top, our chair slowly swaying back and forth.
“I told you nothing was going to happen.”
I glanced over at Brooklyn.
“You went through all this trouble just to say I told you so?” I jabbed him in the side.
He sighed and rubbed his hand down the side of his face, his forehead glistening with sweat. “No. Not really, anyway.”
He held my hand delicately, interlacing his fingers between mine.
With the colorful lights of the fair dotting Brooklyn’s face in blues and whites and reds, and all the noise from below so far away I could hear his heartbeat as it thumped against his chest, I think I finally accepted how much I actually liked him.
And despite all the warnings and all the unspoken rules, I think he liked me too.
I was not a rule breaker by nature, but for him, I might have been.
Even though I was afraid of being up so high, all I wanted to do was fly.
“Then what is it? Tell me,” I whispered into the night.
I didn’t realize how close we already were until he reached up and brushed a lock of hair that had fallen out of my braid away from my face.
The accumulation of all the subtle touches and lingering glances of the past few weeks led to this moment, with the moon lighting up his eyes and our lips so close I could practically taste his vanilla ChapStick.
He pressed his thumb against my chin and tilted my head up to look at him.
His lips grazed against mine, so soft and subtle that I second-guessed if it even happened.
“I’ve thought about kissing you all night,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “Can I?”
My heart careened into my throat, and I knew words would be useless. Instead, I leaned in and answered him the only way I could. I answered the call of the void, and I kissed him.
His hand moved up my neck, leaving little trails of heat everywhere he touched. He found the side of my face and gingerly pulled at my chin, begging me to let him in, and I felt myself completely unravel.
My first kiss had been nothing like this.
My first kiss was in a closet in the eighth grade, with Joey DelVecchio, who played soccer and always smelled like grass.
It was awkward and tasted like soda and sour cream and onion chips.
But this? If I could go back in time, I would give up every kiss I ever had with anyone just so this could be my first. He was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted, and I knew I’d be craving him long afterward.
We finally pulled apart, and I gasped for air as my heart threatened to explode in my chest.
“Wow,” he whispered softly.
“I hope that’s a good wow,” I whispered back, still trying to catch my breath.
“It’s a good wow. A very good wow.”
Suddenly the Ferris wheel lurched forward with a loud creak and began moving again. I had answered the call of the void, and I’d jumped—but he was there to catch me.
June 15
Hey Dad,
I did something reckless tonight.
We went to the state fair—Brooklyn, his sister, his friend, Alec, Nikki, me.
I remember going with you once, when Nikki and I were really young, and the only reason I remember it so well is because you and I snuck off to get one of those giant buckets of half-baked cookies and ate almost the entire thing ourselves, and I got sick on the car ride home. Mom was so pissed.
It’s actually a pretty good memory.
This night should, in theory, be a good memory too.
Brooklyn won me a ridiculous Reptar plush after knocking down all the cans in one of those baseball toss games that we’re all so sure are rigged, and for a minute it felt easy to forget that some kid at the booth recognized him for the worst chapter of his life.
I watched his face after, how quickly pride curdled into shame, and it hurt me too.
Later, he asked me to ride the Ferris wheel even though he knows I hate heights.
“I got you,” he said, and I believed him.
Maybe that’s what the reckless part is—believing.
Up there, with the lights spread out like spilled confetti and the ocean pretending to be quiet, he took my hand. I liked that.
He asked if he could kiss me. I said yes, and I liked that too.
Here’s the part I’m afraid to say out loud: I think he needs me, and I’m more okay with that than I probably should be. Is that having feelings for someone, or something else? Am I helping him heal, or am I using him to prove I can keep someone from falling this time?
I’ve told myself that I don’t need to wrap myself up in some of the stuff going on with Brooklyn, because friends don’t need to fix each other, that’s not what friends do.
There’s part of me that thinks we’ll keep pretending the rules make us safer—no dating in early recovery, no rushing, no naming the thing when it’s still tender.
And yet I’m already rearranging my days around the space he leaves. It’s an unfamiliar feeling.
Love, Nat