Page 19 of Monsters

Chapter 6

The smell of numerous croc-pots loaded with home cooked meals, fresh salty popcorn, and hot dogs wafted through the street on a hot summer’s June night. Children squealed in bouncy castles, and adults cheered when they won shooting challenges at the smaller than fair sized gaming stalls. Long picnic tables were lined down the road’s center, decorated with red and white chequered cloths, and carnival lights zigzagged from one side of the street to the other. A local garage band made up of middle-aged men reinventing their youth played on a makeshift stage singing covers from the seventies. The whole block had turned out in celebratory mode or on amicable terms. Truces about fence disputes were put on hold much like a universal peace treaty for the duration of the Olympics. Mrs. Blackwell even had the neighborhood’s newest arrivals lining up for her chicken casserole.

“Mom,” I said, touching her shoulder gently while lifting my leg over the picnic seat. “I’m going to find Lucas.”

She stopped mid-conversation with the Forests who lived across the street. “Okay. But…” she warned, “… I know we know most of these people but be careful, and…” my mother grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer, her voice lowered, “… don’t get yourself too close to that Peterson man. I caught him lewdly looking at young Joanie in the convenience store this afternoon.”

“Got it. I’ll be home by ten,” I reassured, before setting off through the maze of people and food stalls.

The sweet smell of cotton candy drifted by as children ran past with thick wads of it wrapped around a stick. I hadn’t seen the Carters’ all afternoon, but after what my mother said, I was fixed on finding Joanie. While Lucas and I were best friends, Joanie and I were also tight. We attended the same school together since kindergarten. It didn’t take me long to find her. Joanie was beginning to find a new group of friends who were less concerned about their grades and considerably more eager to build up their street cred, for all it was worth in our middle-class suburb. It was also easy to see why Joanie was on the receiving end of unwanted attention. Her denim shorts were riding high, her pale skin midriff was exposed, and her C-cup breasts were more on display than covered. I’d never before seen her dress like this and I was almost certain her parents hadn’t seen her either.

“Pay up or buzz off,” the stern voice from the sixty-year-old gaming attendant ordered the group milling around.

“Come on, out the way, old man,” came a familiar mocking voice.

Mason Carter.

He stood with the rifle pointed at the moving target, which at this particular stall was a small plastic sailboat with a number on the flag. Mason was flanked by three other boys his age who I didn’t know, and Joanie who was giggling while twirling pink cotton candy around her finger. “I get one more shot,” he insisted, arrogantly.

“You’ve already had your last—” The man ducked for cover as Mason fired, aiming only inches from the attendant’s face. The soft bullet hit a target square on, with a force strong enough it should have fallen. But it didn’t.

“See, you’ve got weights holding them down,” Mason jeered, and Joanie swooned at the bad-boy behavior. “You’re robbing me of my prize because you’re a cheat.”

When the man straightened from the almost hit, his reddened face was furious. “What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” he roared.

Mason smirked. “A lot.”

The group of youths, amused by his reaction, laughed mockingly before moving to the next stall but Mason remained taking aim, refusing defeat.

“Joanie,” I called gently, reaching out to touch her arm. She knew Mason was a loose cannon and I was horrified she seemed so taken by him. Still admiring her bad-boy crush, she cast a sideward glance but then seeing it was me, pivoted until we were face on. There was a glimmer of both guilt and defiance in her eyes.

“What are you doing, Joanie?” I asked. She knew precisely what I was talking about.

“I’m fine, Gemma,” she replied in a hushed voice but shifted uncomfortably. She knew what she was doing was only asking for trouble, but she wasn’t going to stop.

“I didn’t know you were hanging out with him.”

“Well, I am. And I said I’m fine.”

“Joanie, this is a bad—”

“Gemma Sinclair…” The voice saying my name caused a cold shiver up my spine. Mason swiveled on his heel, the rifle pointed at my chest, his eye still looking through the scope. I took a step back, some color draining from my face while looking down at the weapon. Getting peppered with soft bullets didn’t scare me as much as the underlying threat glinting from Mason’s eye. My palms grew sweaty, and my heart began to race. My gaze turned to Joanie who was wide-eyed and horrified. She swallowed nervously, hopefully realizing her choice of acquaintances had been a misguided one.

“Get me a soda,” Mason ordered Joanie, who without debate turned and left. The gaming attendant was barking orders that were going unheard.

“Gemma Sinclair,” he stated again like my name was honey on his tongue. “Look at you… all scared and frightened of me. That’s not how you look at Lucas.” He paused momentarily. “You look at him differently to how you do me.”

“Maybe if you didn’t try to intimidate people, Mason Carter, you wouldn’t have such a bad reputation.”

The corners of his lips twitched like he seemed pleased with my assessment of him.

“Do I intimidate you, Gemma?”

I squared my shoulders refusing to reveal my true fear. “No, you don’t. I’ve known you for too long.”

“Wrong answer.” This time his lips morphed into a wide smile, sinister and wicked. A smile that chilled me to the bone. With the rifle still pointed at my chest, he mouthed ‘boom, boom, boom’ while feigning the recoil of each shot.

“That’s enough!” The gaming assistant snatched at the rifle, yet Mason seemed unfazed.

“I saw a flicker of fear in those pretty green eyes of yours, Gem. I like that.” Mason Carter winked while taking steps in the direction his friends had run off to. “I like you best when you’re scared.”

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