The Enchantment of Emma Fletcher by L.D. Crichton

Author:L.D. Crichton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Star

FIFTEEN

Tristan

I feel like I’ve just ripped off a Band-Aid and exposed a raw flesh wound. Not a single living soul has heard me talk about Katie before except Mateo. Part of me feels freer now that it’s out in the open, and even though I have no idea what possessed me to share it with her, I’m glad I did.

The moment is over and when we step off the Ferris wheel, Emma points to a fun house. “Can we go there, please?”

I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer to me. “We can go wherever you want to.”

“Too bad I don’t have a carnival map on my wall,” she says. “Then I could mark all of the places we go.”

“Aren’t they supposed to offer you a map of the fairgrounds when you come into the door?”

“They are, aren’t they?”

I shrug. “Well, this is Stonefall. You gotta keep your expectations low. So why the fun house?”

“I could use a laugh.”

“All right. I could use a scare. Mind if we head to the haunted house next to it too?”

She pauses for a moment. She’s hesitating. “I’ve never been in a haunted house before.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Not even at Halloween?”

“Not even then.”

“You’re in for a treat.”

“Speaking of treats, we need funnel cake.”

“Mini doughnuts,” I argue.

“Funnel cake,” she says again.

“Funnel cakes and mini doughnuts.”

“Deal.”

I love that I’ve just spilled my guts to her and she’s acting like everything is perfectly normal. I know if I told her I wanted to drop everything and talk, she’d follow my lead, but I don’t. I only want to enjoy this time with her.

We go through the fun house and I hear Emma laugh more than I have in the entire time I’ve known her. It’s a beautiful sound and when we leave, she’s still giggling, her hand braced on my shoulder because we had to exit through a spinning cylinder that’s meant to test balance and she failed miserably.

“Haunted house?”

She’s got our teddy bear tucked under her arm and nods. We enter, and immediately I can smell a fog machine and a terrible assortment of horror music loops in the background.

“If you get scared, Em, I’m right here,” I joke, sure that a place this high on the cheese wouldn’t scare a church mouse. We pass a mock graveyard with dry ice pouring out from underneath the headstones and a green, twisted hand poking up from the grass like someone breaking out from beyond the grave. To the right is a semi-realistic-looking zombie with its arms outstretched and fake blood dripping down its face, lumbering forward. As we pass, it makes a gurgling noise.

Emma looks at me and crinkles her nose. “Eww.”

I feel a vibration in her hand, the slightest tremble. “Are you scared?”

She gives a slight nod. “It’s kind of creepy in here.”

“If I knew it would actually scare you, I wouldn’t have suggested it,” I tell her. I have a sick sense of what’s awesome. Maybe haunted houses aren’t for everyone.

“It’s okay,” she assures me.

I squeeze her hand with mine and lean in so close that my mouth brushes her earlobe.

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