Page 101 of Repairing the Wreckage

“Har, har, har. Were you throwing with your feet?”

“Grrr.” I can’t believe I fell for this.

“Tell you what.” The operator steps closer to the counter, holding the bunny in front of him, waving it side to side, like he’s about to hand it to a toddler. “My name’s Bram, I’ll let you have the bunny if you give me your phone number. Maybe I can take you out while we’re in town.”

I stare at the bunny for a second. It’s cute but not that cute. “No thank you. That’s okay.”

I grab Kyla’s hand and pull her away. She runs to catch up, giggling. “Oh my God, Molly. I think Bram vants to suck your blood.”

“Hilarious.” I stop and side-eye her. “So glad we watched Dracula over the summer.”

She hugs me. “Aww, don’t be sad. Those games are rigged. Another fifty bucks, you probably would’ve had it.”

My attention’s drawn to a tall guy dressed in black wearing a Ghostface mask walking by. Swear he’s staring at us through those creepy black eyeholes.

Griff?

No, that’s stupid. He wouldn’t come here alone. And definitely not in costume.

“What’s wrong?” Kyla nudges me with her elbow.

“Oh, that Ghostface guy reminded me of Griff.”

She turns left and right. “Which one? I’ve seen like fifty of them tonight.”

“Uhh…” I turn in a circle, but she’s right. Five different people have the same mask. “I don’t know. Let’s go find Hayden and Darcy before they get into trouble.”

We follow the widest path through the carnival. Eerie music blares from different booths. Voices over loudspeakers invite us inside to witness horrible things. Characters jump in our way and try to scare us.

A big red-and-white tent stands in the center, but it’s crowded. In a quieter section shops and activities line both sides of the wide aisle. Face painting, a crystal shop, clothing, and other vendors I can’t read the signs for.

After all the walking and weaving through the crowd, an annoying painful rub starts aggravating the backs of my heels.

“I can’t walk another step,” I whine to Kyla, stopping in my tracks. “My feet hurt.”

We step out of the flow of traffic and lean against one of the buildings.

“I’ll let Hayden know where we are,” Kyla says.

Standing on one foot, I unlace my boot and carefully slide it off, then peel my sock down. “Oooo.” I suck in a sharp breath at the gory state of my foot underneath my fishnet stockings.

“Molly! Shit. That looks bad. Hang on.” She digs through her tiny red purse and produces a Band-Aid. “Will that help?”

“Oh my God, you’re a life saver.” I pluck it out of her hand and peel it open. “I don’t suppose you have another one?”

“Just one.” She glances down. “Which foot do you like better?”

I snort and rip a hole in my tights, peeling the material away from my oozing skin. I apply the Band-Aid carefully over the painful wound. “I already have this boot off, so this foot wins.”

By the time I have my boot in place, Hayden and Darcy have found us.

“What’s wrong?” Hayden asks.

“Blisters.” I point to my feet. “I thought boots were smart for tonight but apparently not.”

“You know what was a really dumb choice? Open-toed, high-heeled sandals.” Darcy holds out one foot, showing off her ruined black satin strappy sandal and her bare, mud-caked toes.

“I tried to warn you,” Hayden sings. “And what did you do? You made fun of my sneakers.” Hayden points to her bright-pink Converses that are also now covered in mud.

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