6. Dannica #2
“You didn’t like your idea of being set on fire either.”
“That I’ll admit to,” I say, pocketing the small orange dinosaur.
“What’s next?” Shelly asks, practically vibrating. You’d think we just told her the fun is about to expire and she needs to fit in as much chaos as possible before it does.
“Apple bobbing!” Mary squeals.
Quadri’s head snaps toward her cousin so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t make a sound. “Not on your fucking life.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I cut in, already shaking my head, “it’s disgusting. Think about how many other people have been in there with their mouths hanging open, drooling and spitting.”
Shelly perks up immediately, which is never a good sign. “Yeah, what if you come up with Mr. Davenport’s teeth instead of an apple?”
“Ew, Shell,” Quadri groans, clapping a hand over her mouth and wrinkling her nose. “That’s foul.”
Mary holds up both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I didn’t think of it like that.”
“How did you not think of it like that?” I ask, genuinely concerned now.
She shrugs. “I used to do it all the time as a kid.”
There’s a beat, then her expression shifts. It’s subtle at first, then not so subtle.
“Oh no,” I say, watching the color drain from her face.
She swallows some more. “Yeah.”
“Too late,” Shelly says, delighted.
“I regret everything,” Mary mutters, turning a worrying shade of green.
“All right, less body fluid talk. More fun.” Shelly announces as she points to a sign that reads: CIDER CHUG CHALLENGE – WINNER GETS A FREE ROUND.
“How about that?”
“I am not doing that,” I say, shaking my head.
“I absolutely am not.”
Mary tilts her head. “I could try?”
We all look at her.
“You?” I ask.
She shrugs, small and unassuming. “Maybe.”
Five minutes later, the entire crowd is chanting her name. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Mary—quiet, sweet Mary—is halfway through her pint while the guy next to her is already slowing down. She doesn’t even look stressed.
Shelly is screaming. Quadri is watching like she’s witnessing a scientific anomaly, and I am reconsidering everything I thought I knew about this woman.
Mary finishes first and the crowd erupts as though she’s just won the Olympics.
She blinks and wipes her mouth delicately. “That was… unpleasant.”
I well and truly lose it, laughing so hard I have to grab Shelly’s shoulder just to stay upright.
“You’re terrifying,” Shelly tells her.
Mary smiles, small and pleased. That smile is a bigger win than the free drinks now being shoved into our hands.
We wander from stall to stall after that, the night playing out around us in warm lights, music, and the smell of cinnamon and fried dough. Someone bumps my shoulder. Hard.
I turn automatically. “Sorry?—”
A little old lady grabs my arm. “Dannica!”
I freeze.
What?
This is...
“Luke?”
Up close, it’s worse. The silicone mask is slightly too smooth, stretched tight over the shape of his face. The eyes don’t quite match the smile. It’s unsettling.
He beams. “I loooooove the harvest festival.”
I can’t stop myself from grinning.
Mary makes a noise that sounds like she’s choking on air. “Why are you like this?”
“I’m thriving,” Luke says proudly, adjusting his floral shawl. “I love the harvest festival.”
“You’ve said that already,” I point out.
“And I will continue to say that,” he insists. “Because I. Love. The. Harvest. Festival.”
A guy dressed as a pirate takes one look at him and walks the other direction. Honestly? I don’t blame him.
Quadri doesn’t even blink. “You’re going to traumatize someone.”
“I’m committed to the craft,” Luke says.
“What craft?” Shelly asks.
“Old lady realism.”
Luke wanders off, and someone hands me something covered in caramel. I eat it without question, which is a personal milestone. Behind me, Luke’s voice cuts through the noise. “I loooooove the harvest festival!”
“We all know that, Luke!” I call over my shoulder, already moving.
“It’s still true!” he shouts back.
Of course it is.
“You’re glowing,” Shelly says.
“I’m sticky,” I correct and she laughs.
Quadri nudges my shoulder. “You’re having fun.”
I open my mouth to deny it, then close it again. “I might be.”
Shelly gasps, as if I’ve confessed to committing a crime. “Say it again.”
“Don’t push it.”
Mary smiles into her drink. We fall into step together, laughter spilling easily now. It doesn’t feel forced or polite or carefully measured. Just… free.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not thinking about the diner, or the articles, or all the ways I feel like I’m falling short of something I can’t quite name. I’m just here with them. And it’s enough.
“Oh my god,” Shelly says suddenly, grabbing my arm like she’s just had a revelation. “The masquerade.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No,” I repeat, already shaking my head. I know, with absolute certainty, that this will spiral and end with regret.
“We’re going,” Quadri says, in that calm, authoritative tone that suggests this is no longer a discussion.
“I don’t dance.”
“You sway aggressively,” Shelly counters. “It counts.”
“I will stand in a corner and judge people.”
“Perfect,” she says brightly. “You can judge them while dancing.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Mary shifts beside Quadri, her earlier victory over cider clearly coming back to haunt her.
“You okay?” I ask, my attention snapping to her.
“I just need a minute,” she says, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Too much cider.”
Quadri nods, all teasing vanishing. “Bathroom. Come on.”
And just like that, they’re gone, swallowed up by the crowd and leaving me standing there with Shelly, the distant thrum of music spilling out from the big tent.
Shelly turns to me, eyes sparkling with intent. “We’re doing this.”
I follow her gaze toward the tent, where warm, golden light spills into the night, shadows moving behind the fabric, laughter and music pulling people in like a promise I’m not entirely sure I trust.
An hour ago, I would’ve said no without hesitation. Technically, I did two minutes ago. And yet, I hesitate.
Because something has shifted tonight. It’s subtle, but there. Looser, lighter. Like I’ve stepped slightly outside the version of myself that always knows exactly what to expect. A little unsettling, but also not entirely unpleasant.
I sigh, already giving in despite every instinct telling me this is a mistake waiting to happen.
“If I embarrass myself,” I say, glancing at Shelly, “I’m blaming you.”
She grins. “I’ll take that risk.”
Apparently, so will I.
“You can blame me tomorrow,” she says, already pulling me forward. “Tonight, you’re having fun.”
We pass a small cluster of people just off to the side. Luke is in the center, holding a cider like he’s hosting a talk show.