In Plain Sight by Hope Anika

Chapter Ten

Selena staredout the window of the popcorn wagon and watched as Ares hung giant blow-up toys—hammers and crayons and long, narrow swords—along the walls of his balloon game. Flash, Fiona had called it, and all of the games on the midway were doing the same. There were stuffed animals and fancy mirrors and t-shirts; yoyos and kazoos and feathered hair clips. Something for everyone—at a price.

Ares, it turned out, could be very charming, which Selena had learned when a girl named Bridget appeared while they were making popcorn. Petite, gorgeous, blond; everything Selena would never be. It had been more than clear that Ares liked her.

Reallyliked her.

A realization that had made Selena uncomfortable—and inexplicably annoyed by everything Bridget did.

They’d spent nearly an hour going over how the popcorn wagon was run and making the items Fiona sold. Ares hadn’t asked Selena any uncomfortable questions—he hadn’t asked her anything at all—and he hadn’t yelled at her when she spilled cherry snow cone flavoring all over the floor and burned the first batch of popcorn. He’d just teased her—and then helped her clean up the mess.

His patience and kindness had surprised her, and she’d found herself relaxing for the first time since she’d stood on her parent’s roof, serenaded by the crickets and the frogs, her eyes glued to the glinting constellation revealed by her telescope.

But when the games on the midway had started to unfurl, Ares had left her. He’d set up the cash drawer and warned her against making change for anyone—no matter what—and he’d assured her he was just a few feet away if she needed him. Then he’d left.

And now here she sat, watching him covertly. Mooning. So stupid. She knew it was stupid. He looked at her like she was a kid, and considering the shuttered world she came from, he was right. With his blue hair and colorful tats, Ares looked…well, grown. And he acted that way, too.

Still, he was a nice distraction, and there was nothing wrong with a little harmless admiration…was there?

Fiona suddenly opened the door of the wagon and sat down in the opening, a notebook and pen in hand. “You doing okay, little chicken?”

Painfully conscious of the cherry snow cone flavoring that decorated her, Selena said, “Yes, thank you.”

“Good. Any questions? Are you comfortable with this? Because it’s okay if you aren’t. If you don’t want to fill orders, you don’t have to. I can do everything; that’s what I usually do. But whether you work or not, you’re stuck in here while we’re open.”

“No, I’d prefer to help,” Selena insisted, a quiet but potent desperation gripping her. “Please.”

“Okay.” Fiona smiled, but her eyes were sharp, and it felt like they saw too deep. “But I should work the window. Max would have kittens if he knew I had you taking orders.”

He would put a stop to it.

“No one would ever expect me to be here, doing this,” Selena said quickly. “Not in a million years.”

“Agreed. Still, we need to be careful. Keep your hat on, and don’t chitchat with the customers. I’ll have to give breaks and get food, so you’ll be on your own for at least an hour. But Ares and Rye will be close by, and you’ll have this.” A small black walkie-talkie appeared in Fiona’s hand. “Just push the button and talk. I have one, Ares has one, and so does Rye. But don’t change the channel. Capice?”

“Okay.” Selena accepted the radio and stared at it, and for a moment, Fiona seemed like she wanted to say something else, but then she just nodded. “Alrighty then. We open in ten. Remember, you’re undercover. For real.”

Then she was gone. Only two people came to the window before she returned. The first was Mort, Mona’s husband, who, according to Ares, ran the duck pond game with his wife Mona. The duck pond consisted of little yellow rubber ducks that floated along a small stream of water; the player won simply by picking a duck. A kiddie game, Ares had called it, designed exclusively for young children. Unlike the .22, he’d explained, which was designed primarily for adults.

We have something for everyone, he’d said. And as Selena had watched the show unfold around her, she’d realized he was right. Both the rides and the games were designed to cater to anyone who might want to engage. It was a playland for everyone, and being surrounded by it, Selena felt further and further away from the world she’d known, tossed down the proverbial rabbit’s hole. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Mort ordered nachos and lemonade and welcomed her to the show. The second person was Ares, who wanted a cherry snow cone.

“Everything good?” he’d asked, watching her closely. “You doing okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” she’d replied, her heart beating painfully hard. Then she made him his snow cone, and he left.

Fiona returned and made a fresh batch of popcorn. She worked the window and Selena watched closely, taking note of her interaction with the people, her economy of movement. Fi made it look easy, but Selena had never been exposed to the public, and she’d never handled money. She’d never even talked to a stranger, so she hung back and filled orders and tried to learn.

She must have done something right, because after the crowd lulled, Fiona left again to give breaks and get food, and Selena was on her own. Working the window. Max might not have approved, but Selena embraced it fully, this role in a life so different from her own. A welcomed escape.

Fiona, she thought, seemed to know she needed that. There was an understanding in Fi’s gaze as if she knew the dark place that waited.

Selena was nervous as she stepped up to the window and took her first order, but the more people she served, the more she relaxed. Most of them were moms with kids; a few were teenagers. She worked steadily until she realized she was sweating, and when she looked out the window, she saw a line of people so long she couldn’t see the end of it. Fiona reappeared then, and she opened the second serving window, and they worked together with surprising ease. Fi was warm and welcoming to the people she waited on, and Selena tried to emulate that.

She told people, “enjoy the show!” and “have a good night!” and for the most part, they left happy.

It was chaotic and exhausting and fun.

Even if she did end up covered in cotton candy from head to toe, her face, her hair, and her arms blanketed in a thick crust of sugar. And her glasses…she cleaned them half a dozen times before realizing it was hopeless. Luckily, she could see with them off.

Mostly.

There were bright red cherry stains on her shirt and a large blob of nacho cheese on her pants; caramel in her hair and popcorn oil on her shoes. Even the hat Fiona had given her to wear bore a spatter of blue raspberry snow cone flavoring.

“I think you’re wearing a little bit of everything,” Fiona told her after the crowd ebbed. She smiled, and Selena blushed, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re doing a great job. So good I’m going to have to pay you.”

“Pay me?”

Fiona’s smile turned wry. “Don’t get too excited. The pay sucks, and the hours stink. But it’s exciting and unpredictable and kind of addictive. Your call.”

Selena could only blink at her owlishly.

“Well?”

“Pay me,” she repeated, stupidly.

“I’ll pay you two-fifty a week. But fair warning: it’s hard work. We tear everything down, clean it top to bottom, move it to the next spot, set it back up, clean it all over again, and then we open and work our tails off for four sixteen-hour days. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

Fiona was offering her a job.

“Yes! Thank you,” Selena said, even though she was caked in cotton candy and sugar and oil and some kind of cheese substance that was in no way related to the dairy family. Even though her feet hurt, and she was bone-tired, and she couldn’t see.

“Good.” Fiona held out her hand. Selena moved to take it, and they shook. “Welcome to the show.”

Fiona headed over to the duck pond to give Mort and Mona another break, and Selena took advantage of the lull to clean her glasses one more time and slide them on. The bright colors surrounding her on the midway came crisply into focus as she sank onto the black metal stool and watched people wander the midway, pausing before the games, staring up at the rides. The show was alive with music and movement and people eager to play.

Most of the games appeared to be based on skill—like the basketball game and the ring toss—but others were based on chance. Some were clearly designed to be won—like the duck pond and the balloon game Ares was running—but others, the ones with prizes like an iPad and a giant stuffed panda, were obviously made to entice people into playing, despite the odds. The people who ran the games called out good-naturedly to those passing by, challenging them, daring them to engage.

Ares laughed, drawing her gaze. He was very good with the crowd; he knew exactly how to pull them in. Selena was still trying to get used to the odd wings that fluttered in her chest when she looked at him. Like a butterfly was trapped there, circling desperately.

So much I don’t know.

Not about anything. Not about people; not about boys. Nothing about this life, this place; the strange foreign world she’d been thrust into.

It had never been any secret, that her mother deliberately cloistered her children from society. She’d made no bones about it, and their father hadn’t argued. Tessa McLean had controlled everything: what they wore, what they ate, who they were exposed to, what they learned.

That was why Selena had been on the roof that night. The roof was her escape.

Her rebellion.

She closed her eyes and turned the thought aside. Laughter and faint screams sounded; the whirl and whine of the rides at work. Bright lights flashed through her eyelids. Carousel music; country music. Hard, throbbing rock. Children chattered; a dog barked. Her eyes opened, and she was surprised all over again at where she found herself.

The crowd ebbed and then flowed; a human tide that came and went in a mysterious, inexplicable rhythm.

Rye stood on the opposite side of Ares’s game, next to what Fiona had referred to as “the twenty-two.” His arms were folded across his chest, and a wide smile curved his mouth. A small crowd had gathered. He was good at running his game, too, but that wasn’t a surprise. Rye was charismatic. Charming, friendly, with an easy, open smile, and a bounty of confidence she envied.

That he watched her so closely had bothered Selena at first, but somewhere in the last few hours, her hypersensitivity to it had faded. Rye was doing his job, keeping her safe, and she felt safe; how could she complain?

Besides, he wasn’t being intrusive, unlike Max, and he wasn’t rude to her, also unlike Max. Rye seemed genuine, and even though Selena had glimpsed the real him—the painted warrior beneath—she wasn’t afraid. Fiona appeared to trust him, too, even if she did mutter about him under her breath.

He’d already checked on her half a dozen times, so Selena wasn’t surprised when he suddenly appeared again, stepping into the wagon and shrinking it with his immense size.

“What’s shakin’, bacon?” he wanted to know.

Silly, she thought. But she kind of liked it.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“You’re killing it, Red.” His black gaze met hers, and she thought again of Max, who she didn’t want to trust, but kind of did. “I know it can’t be easy, getting thrown into this. I’m impressed.”

She shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise.

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter. “How are you really doing?”

“Fine,” she repeated.

His brows rose. “Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

No.

He nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He paused. “There will come a time when it isn’t the only thing you think about.”

Goosebumps rushed across her skin. She did everything she could not think about it—any of it—but it was always there, hovering just on the periphery. Churning and dark, filled with screams. At night, she tried not to sleep too deep, aware of what awaited in her dreams. But her exhaustion weighed deeper and deeper, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she would live it all over again.

“Until that day comes, you just take it one minute at a time,” Rye continued in his calm, easy way. “And there’s one thing you don’t ever forget.”

He waited for her to respond, his black eyes steady on her, but she didn’t want to look at him. Listen to him. Trust him. And she didn’t want to think about the things he was—

“Lena,” he chided softly.

And she suddenly understood why Fiona muttered. She made herself meet his glinting black gaze, and thought again of her mother’s necklace, and the volatile, angry mass inside of her stirred. “What?”

“You’re not alone.”

To hear him echo Max’s words didn’t make her feel any better. Because even though Max had said them, he’d still left.

“Survival is hard; I’ve been where you are,” Rye said quietly. “So if you need to talk—”

“Unlikely,” she said shortly, temper getting the better of her.

But he just smiled. “Alright, Red. But I’m here, whatever you need.”

Then he poured himself a cup of coffee and left.

Selena thought it was all very…surreal.

Am I dreaming?

It was tempting to imagine. That the last two days had just been a dream—a nightmarish figment of her imagination—and in the morning she would wake up and Alex would be trying to hide her calculus notebook, and Austin would be hogging the bathroom, and Adam would be practicing his violin.

Please.

Even though she knew better. Selena was, first and foremost, a realist. She’d witnessed the act: they were gone.

No matter how surreal this reality, that fact would not change.

You’re not alone.

Why even say such a thing? What was the point?

She was alone. She had no one. Her family was gone, and there was no one left.

“You’re going to be okay,” she told herself, because sometimes the anxious terror inside of her threatened to take flight, and hearing her own voice made her real. Capable. Alive. Even if she wasn’t certain why she was still alive. “You’re going to spin floss and serve nachos, and you’re going to keep your eyes open, and you’re going to be safe.”

But she knew there were things she was going to have to do for that to be true, the biggest of which was altering her appearance. Really altering it.

She’d balked when Max had taken her clothing; the long, cotton skirts and wide-sleeved blouses—handmade by her mother—were the only clothes she’d ever worn. But Max had been adamant and looking around the midway, Selena realized he’d been right. No one was dressed as she had. No one.

The girls her age wore short shorts and tight jeans and thin cotton leggings in wild prints. Their clothes were designed to display their bodies; some even wore bathing suit tops. Selena had been shocked initially until she’d realized she was the only one in shock. After that, she’d just watched and absorbed and tried to learn.

Because she needed to learn everything she could—about this odd, intriguing, inexplicable world—and about how it worked. Her lack of social skills was almost painful. She was like Max: too blunt. And she hadn’t even known how to talkto Ares. He’d made an effort with her, making harmless small talk, but the world he inhabited, and the one from which she came, were not even in the same universe.

Too much she didn’t know. And it affected everything.

“You’d better learn,” she told herself because she would never escape successfully if she didn’t. She needed to remake herself and disappear; there were no other options on the table.

She would have to become someone so different from who she’d been that even her own mother wouldn’t know her. Everything that made her who she was would have to be rewritten.

Ares laughed again, and she let herself stare. The tips of his blue hair glowed softly in the bright lights of the midway, and she realized with a jolt that she could do that, too, if she chose. Have blue hair. Or purple hair. Or green.

There was no one to stop her. She could do whatever, be whoever she wanted.

Something flickered within her at the thought. Hope. Which illuminated her grief, and without warning, tears blurred her vision. Grief slammed into her with sudden, breathtaking force.

It felt wrong to hope. To want. It hurt, like a blade cleaving her in two. One to go forward; one to stay behind.

There will come a time when it isn’t the only thing you think about.

And then she would have to choose. But not today.

So she swallowed hard and blinked away the burn, and when a harried-looking man with twin toddlers approached in desperate need of a caramel apple, Selena made him one.