Page 16 of Atone

“Why not? You are.”

Remi brushes her hair back, showing off the freckles on her cheeks. “I’m not like you, Mila. This is what I’m good at. What I like. But you… you could do more.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the carnival.”

“There is if it doesn’t make you happy.” Remi frowns. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I glance around as my parents start making their rounds. Mom’s dark hair is tied in a painfully tight bun that sharpens her cheekbones. Dad yells at the new girl working the popcorn stand for not being set up yet. It’s only a matter of time before they circle around to us and find something wrong with the setup or my makeup or my outfit.

Nothing about this is appropriate for a sixteen-year-old, but they don’t care.

“I’m serious.” Remi nudges my leg with her knee. “Think about it.”

“I will.” My gaze is still on my parents.

Remi must notice. “I’ll deal with them. Go find somewhere else to be before they get here. I’ll tell them you’re using the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” I squeeze her hand, darting off.

I don’t hate the carnival. Far from it.

I love the lights. The excitement.

The friendships.

But more often than not lately, Remi is the only one who makes it bearable. And she’s right. I don’t want this.

The carnival is less threatening with the sun shining overhead. But at night, all my haunted memories mix with the good and rise to the surface. Conflicting feelings about a place I used to call home battle it out, and I hope Patience doesn’t notice.

We walk past the knife-throwing platform, and I rub my hand down my side, feeling for Remi’s blade still strapped there. She’s been gone almost four years, but I can still hear her laugh in my mind. She was always the more charming one of the two of us, luring people into our act. While I was the distraction with my short skirts and glittering sequins.

“There’s no line.” Patience tugs my hand toward the Ferris wheel.

“It’s a swinging Ferris wheel,” I warn her.

“What does that mean?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before pulling us into a free cage. “Doesn’t everything in this place swing?”

I laugh, climbing in after her as the door shuts behind us. “Not like this.”

Patience and I sit on opposite sides. The grate in the cage stifles the breeze, which helps ease the chill of the settling night. The hard metal seat digs into my ass cheeks, and I grip the lip since there’s no bar in the middle to hold.

When the cage lurches upward, I hold my breath.

“You okay?” Patience’s eyes widen. “I totally forgot you were afraid of heights. Maybe they’ll let us down.”

They won’t. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry.” She takes a sharp breath through her teeth.

“Just talk about something and distract me.” We move up another few feet. “Anything.”

Patience drags her teeth over her lower lip, thinking. “Thank you for stopping by to see Alex.”

Maybe I should have been more specific. The last thing I want to talk about right now is something else that makes my stomach swim.

“No problem.” My nails scratch the metal with my tight grip as we move again. “I have a question. Can Alex physically not talk, or is it just that he won’t?”

The slight sway of the cage has my feet desperate to get back on solid ground.

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