Page 22 of Trick or Tease

“I don’t want to hear about any corn maze.” I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead, but I could feel her staring at me.

“Garrett, what’s wrong? It’s just a corn maze. Families love them, and it’ll bring in good money for the farm. Billy’s really proud of⁠—”

“I said I don’t want to hear about it.” I could hear the edge in my own voice, that defensive tone that always came out when I felt cornered. “Can we talk about something else?”

She frowned. “Is this about the scarecrow? Or the clown mask?”

“Stop,” I warned.

She laughed. “I wanted Billy to up the stakes a bit, but he and Lucy vetoed me. Said it was too scary.”

“That fucking mask is not okay.”

She laughed again. “People love clowns.”

“People hate clowns. They’re creepy. And no one likes scary clowns.”

“They love to be afraid of clowns,” she argued.

I could feel my jaw tightening as she grinned at me like this was all some big joke. “Nobody loves to be afraid of clowns, Sabrina. That’s insane.”

“Oh, come on,” she said with that mischievous look I remembered from when we were kids. “What about Stephen King’s It? That movie made millions. People lined up around the block to be terrified by Pennywise.”

“And then they went home and had nightmares for weeks,” I countered. “That’s not entertainment, that’s demented.”

She laughed, the sound filling the car and making my chest feel tight for entirely different reasons than our clown debate. It wasn’t really my chest that was tight. It was the fucking jeans I was wearing. The effect she had on me was scarier than any movie clown.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s just a plastic mask from a discount store.”

“It’s a gateway drug to full-blown coulrophobia,” I said, trying to keep my tone serious while she dissolved into giggles beside me.

“What does that mean?”

“That’s the official name for the fear of clowns. Coulrophobia.”

“Coulrophobia?” she repeated, barely able to get the word out through her laughter. “You just made that up.”

“It’s a real thing! Look it up. Fear of clowns is an actual medical condition. We don’t want to scar the children.”

“So you’re telling me that my four-dollar clearance mask is going to single-handedly destroy the mental health of a bunch of kids?”

“And me. Where is that thing anyway?”

She flashed an innocent smile and shrugged. And that was disturbing.

“Full disclosure,” I said. “If you pull out that thing while I’m driving, we’re going to have a very bad day.”

I caught her looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I knew she was connecting the dots. She was remembering that night, just like I was. The night Billy had scared the shit out of me dressed as a scarecrow in the cornfield. The night I’d made a complete fool of myself in front of her.

I’d spent years trying to forget that humiliation, the way I’d nearly jumped out of my skin when Billy had lunged at us from his hiding spot against that scarecrow post. I had frozen like a complete coward. And Sabrina had been right there, witnessing the whole pathetic display.

“Garrett, that was over ten years ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But of course I did. I knew exactly what she was talking about, and the fact that she remembered it too made my chest tighten with embarrassment.

“The scarecrow thing. Billy jumping out at us. You’re still upset about that?”

I forced a laugh, trying to sound casual. “I barely remember it. It was a stupid prank.”