Page 133 of Silent Damage

But all I can see is him.

He suddenly stops and points at a shooting gallery. “Dude, watch this.” He motions for me to follow him, then saunters over to the attendant.

“One, please.” He picks up the gun and aims at the targets whizzing by on a belt, firing off a round of BBs and hitting ten or so targets in rapid succession.

“First grand prize winner of the day!” the attendant yells, clapping his hands.

“Fuck yeah! What do I get?” Jason asks.

“Anything from the top row.”

I look at the prizes on the top row—they are the epitome of creepy carnival swag. They’re all dingy and look older than Jason and me combined. They're supposed to have happy faces, but their eyes are scuffed, and their little mouths twist into grimaces. They look like zombie toys.

“Which one do you want?” Jason asks.

“Huh?”

“Pick one,” he adds.

I shake my head. “No, you won. You pick it.”

“I won it for you.”

Butterflies take flight in my stomach. “Really?” I ask.

Jason nods—his little smile sending my heart into overdrive.

“Let’s pick together,” I compromise. “It’ll be like our little trailer mascot.”

Jason laughs. “I’m into it.” He moves closer and asks, “Which one of these weirdo plushies screams creepy carnival the most?”

Together, we survey the big stuffed animals on the top shelf and simultaneously point at the same one.

“That one,” we say in unison.

It’s a mangy-looking brown bear wearing a black vest and bowtie, and I can tell from where I stand that one eye is loose. There’s even a grease stain on its head.

“Yup, if that doesn’t scream creepy carnival, I don’t know what does,” he says.

“Totally.”

“We’ll take that one,” he says to the attendant, pointing to our busted bear.

Jason hands the bear to me. “You didn’t ooh and ahh over my shooting skills.”

I roll my eyes and say, “Oohhhh, ahhhhhh,” with forced enthusiasm.

“So sassy,” he says, lightly bumping into me.

I hold up our bear, and together we take a look at it. “It’s so ugly,” I say. “I love it.”

“For real. The vest gives leather daddy vibes.”

“Right?” I say, laughing.

“He’ll match the depressing wood paneling in the trailer, too.”

I crack up because the wood paneling really is disgusting.