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I grin. “He won me this teddy bear.”
“Have you kissed him yet?”
“What? No, we haven’t gotten that far. We haven’t spoken much before tonight, except to talk about college in the U.S.”
“Do you like him back?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the words stall on my tongue. I think I like him. I should like him.
But he doesn’t give me that thrill I want.
Cute, innocent romance isn’t for me. The sort of teenage romance I’m supposed to feel with my first love.
I need something more. What that more is, I’m not sure.
Prisha looks disappointed at my hesitation, but she changes the subject to her latest book. She insists I have to read it.
“It’s a ‘why choose’ romance, and the spice is next level. One girl, four guys. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to have multiple hot men fawn over you?” She lets out a dreamy sigh.
I shake my head at her and laugh. But my laughter dies when Dmitry comes out of the house of mirrors. He’s holding his head and stumbling.
He went in with his mask on but emerged without it, giving me a view of his bloodied face.
“Oh, my God.” I take off running, with Prisha following close behind. When I approach him, the details of his face come into focus, making me gasp. The right side is swollen, and his broken nose is gushing blood. A cut on his head is also dripping, along with his busted lip.
“What the hell happened in there?” I ask.
He spits some blood onto the ground. “Some guy attacked me in the maze.”
“We need to let security know,” Prisha says. “Do you think you can describe him in detail?”
“He wore a mask covering his whole face. And a black cloak.”
Consider this my one and only warning: Do not let that boy touch you.
What if I want him to touch me?
Do it and find out.
I clench my fists so tight my nails dig into my palm. Fueled by rage and alcohol, my body shakes with the urge to act. To take revenge.
I know exactly who did it.
Dropping the stuffed bear into the dirt, I take off at a sprint toward the house of mirrors, my flower crown flying off my head.
“Willow, don’t!” she calls after me, her voice shrill with alarm. “Let security handle this!”
But her words don’t sway me, and without looking back, I bolt into the maze.
Chapter 11
Willow
The entrance to the hall of mirrors is eerie. The flimsy, wooden façade is painted in peeling colors, depicting images of vaudevillian clowns. Their eyes track your movements no matter which way you step, like the Mona Lisa if she were dressed in a Pennywise getup.
The English word “Funhouse” is affixed to the entrance in red neon lettering. Beneath it is a black hole waiting to swallow me whole.
But I don’t hesitate. I race into the darkness, though I might as well be jumping headfirst into an abyss.
