Page 61

What had happened to that carefree girl who loved to play arcade games? Why was her past so complicated that she felt like she couldn’t talk about it? Who caused her to constantly look over her shoulder?

I had so many questions I could fill out multiple patient charts with them.

But I kept them to myself.

An hour later, we’re back in the car and on our way back to the festival. Cordelya’s hand is intertwined with mine, resting on her thigh as we drive. I keep rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand, hoping to ease some of her lingering anxieties.

The sun has just slipped below the trees when we reach the festival grounds once again.

“Oh my,” Cordelya exhales softly. “It’s so beautiful at night.”

The transformation is undeniable.

Enchanted lanterns float in the air, illuminating the area in a soft glow that seems to dance. All the vendor booths from this morning have been broken down, leaving a wide-open space surrounded by rides and games. Lights flash, bells sound, and laughter can be heard all around.

A tractor passes by towing a trailer packed with costumed townspeople eating and drinking, on their way to the corn maze.

As we walk through the grounds, Cordelya’s eyes dart back and forth like a ping pong ball. I’m not sure if she’s just trying to take everything in, or if some of it’s her normal security scan, looking in shadows for threats only she can recognize.

“Shall we start with some games, or are you hungry?”

Cordelya pauses, seeming to weigh her options.

“What if we play games on our way to the food booths?”

I tug her in for a quick kiss. “I like your style, Moonlight.”

We walk down the long path littered with game stations, trying to decide which game to play first. I spot a giant stuffed animal that looks very similar to Minna at a balloon-popping game. I’ve played enough darts at The Press Box that I feel confident enough to tug Cordelya to a stop.

“Do we have a player?” the booth agent yells.

I step up to the counter and rap it with my knuckles. “Indeed, you do.”

“We have a player,” he shouts to the crowd before handing me six darts. “The game is simple, friends,” he calls to the gathering crowd. “Each balloon has points assigned to it. Throw the dart, pop the balloon, accumulate points. The more points, the bigger the prize!”

I assess the board, noting that the balloons on the bottom are the largest and worth the least amount of points. As the balloons go up the board, they become smaller in size but more valuable in points, with the top row filled with barely blown-up balloons worth over a thousand points. The oversized dog is two thousand points.

I take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly, focusing in on a row of balloons just below the top row. My hand draws back, gripping the dart between my thumb and pointer finger. On an exhale, I fling my arm forward, releasing the dart to fly through the air… and hit nothing.

“A throw and miss!” declares the agent.

I shake out my arms and roll my shoulders, then repeat the process again. This time I manage to hit a balloon, and the surrounding crowd cheers loudly.

Not exactly the balloon I wanted, but everyone has to start somewhere.

The next three darts hit a target, not the target I’m going for, but still a target.

By the last throw, I’m determined to hit one of the tiny balloons at the top of the board. With a wink at Cordelya, I let the last dart fly.

And hit absolutely nothing as the dart disappears over the top of the board.

Beside me, Cordelya giggles as the crowd gives me what can only be described as a sympathy clap.

The agent walks over holding the equivalent of an oversized keychain in his hand.

“Better luck next time,” he says with enough cheer to annoy me.

Cordelya slips her arm through mine, leaning her head on my arm. “You did great, Auggie!”