The thoughts swirling in my head are giving me a headache and the noise from the crowd is making matters worse. I glance around, expecting people to start throwing tomatoes at me.
You were hitting on your best friend’s little sister? Gross, dude!
But no one is looking my way.
There’s something more exciting to pay attention to. Darkness has taken over the sky and the adults are taking over the go-cart races.
More and more drinkers are gathering to watch.
The go-cart engines rumble as the attendants turn up the speed.
Money passes hands.
Things are steadily becoming rowdier.
I leave the fair and drive home. In the silence of my car, I try to make sense of this insane discovery.
Riley Carter.
Here.
In Lucky Falls.
Isn’t she an airplane repair technician? As far as I know there are no airports in Lucky Falls. There isn’t even a big chain grocery store. Is it possible there’s a private air strip here? Or maybe she’s on vacation?
Ridiculous.
Who’d vacation in a small town like Lucky Falls?
There must be some other reason.
And does Chris know?
The thought occurs that the siblings might be playing some kind of prank on me. That’s the only explanation for Riley’s strange behavior.
I park my car in front of the large gates that lead to my rental. Rather than open the gate and roll into the driveway, I call Chris right away.
He answers after the second ring. “Campbell Chicken Noodle! What’s up, bro?”
In the background, I hear a light ‘popping’ sound, like plastic hitting a table.
“You still play ping pong?” I ask.
“Yeah. We’re entering a tournament.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Trying to make it to the big leagues like you, bro.”
I snort. Chris played hockey with me all through school, but he didn’t have the obsession with the sport like I did. In fact, he decided to study psychology, claiming he was tired of getting bruises and wanted to ‘use his brain’. Whatever that means.
I resist the urge to catch up with him because there are bigger matters to discuss. “Chris, did you know about Riley?”
“Know what?”
I pause, weighing the sincerity of his tone. “You really don’t know?”
“Knowwhat?”
