Chapter Text
Max wanders the park aimlessly, far too distraught to do anything. He’s been half-hoping to run into Richie and the rest of his friends so he can apologize and somehow fix things between them, but he can’t bring himself to actively search for them. He’s scared to face them. He’s scared that they won’t forgive him. He’s scared and the only people in the world he can lean on when he’s scared, the only people in the world he can even tell he’s scared are mad at him and he has no idea where they are or if they’ll even want to see him. They’ve already forgiven him for so much. Maybe this will be the final straw for them.
Who cares? They don’t want you around. They can’t wait to get away from you.
“f*ck off,” he tells the voice. A nearby Blinky mascot takes great offense to this.
“Uh-oh,” it says “that’s a no-no word. Blinky won’t like that.”
Max’s blood boils. The nerve, the nerve of this loser in the lame costume to try and tell him what he can and can’t say. His power might be fleeting, he might be doomed to peak in high school and end up in a similar position mere months from now, but he’s going to enjoy it while he can, damnit. He winds up his fist and punches it square in its giant, yellow eye. It stumbles back, then finds it footing and retaliates, landing a solid jab on his face. He’s so disoriented that he stumbles, too, and falls to the ground. He picks himself up, bringing his hand to his nose to find that it’s dripping blood. Enraged, he lunges at the mascot and pins it to the ground, furiously landing punch after punch in its stupid f*cking eye until he physically can’t anymore. Out of breath, he stands up and begins to walk away. The mascot lays there for a minute, deathly still, then finally picks itself up and limps off.
“You’ll be sorry,” it says.
He brandishes his fist threateningly towards the mascot one more time, giving it a warning look before he stalks towards the carnival games. That did nowhere near enough to get all of his frustrations out and he thinks something that involves either shooting or throwing things might be in order.
He approaches the shooting gallery and his chest tightens when he sees Grace seated there alone, leaning over the counter and staring down the barrel of the rifle with furious intensity. The way she effortlessly hits bullseye after bullseye is impressive. He wonders if it’s fueled in part by anger at him. He knows he needs to go over there and apologize, but he can’t bring himself to move, still terrified that it won’t be enough, that she and the rest of their friends will reject him and he’ll be left all alone.
Don’t be such a little bitch about it he chastises himself. It’s undoubtedly his own internal monologue and not the weird, slightly off one from before. f*ckin’ useless coward. Scared of skeletons. Scared of ghosts. Scared to say sorry to your own goddamn friends.
He takes a deep breath and approaches her, sliding onto the uncomfortable metal stool beside her.
“Hey, Grace,” he says “is it okay if I sit here?”
She turns to look at him with an indignant scowl and replies, “You can go wherever you want.”
Fair enough. He knows he deserves that. At the very least, he’s relieved that she’s letting him stay in her vicinity. It’s not much, but it’s a start. A glimmer of hope that maybe she and the rest of their friends still want him around.
For now. Still going to peak in high school. Still going to end up alone. They’ll all leave you. Unless you stop them.
He winces at that creepy voice’s return, trying to ignore it as he hands some cash over to the man running the booth and receives a rifle in return. He stares down the barrel, lines up his shot and pulls the trigger, completely missing the target and leaving a new hole in the wall behind it. He might be frustrated if he weren’t distracted by the fact that the gunshot sound was strikingly realistic and the barrel is smoking. Holy sh*t, is this thing real? That seems like a horrible idea. Maybe Pete was right to be so concerned about their safety standards here.
Grace, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too phased. “Here,” she says, leaning over to move his hands and correct his form. He tries again and just barely manages to hit the target right on the edge. Grace hits another bullseye.
“Nice shot,” the game master says, tilting his cowboy hat in approval “we have a winner.” He grabs a Blinky plush doll from the shelf and she recoils in disgust.
“Ew,” she says “I don’t want that weird, satanic, monster thing. Get it away from me!”
“Well, what do you want?” a nasally, high-pitched voice asks. They turn around to face a small, frail old woman wrapped in a black cloak.
“Butt out!” says Grace “none of your beeswax!”
“Yeah, who invited you, f*cknugget?” Max adds.
They call her every name in the book and she slinks away, shooting a piercing glare in their direction. They take one look at each other, smile despite themselves and burst out laughing.
“I know it hasn’t been very long, but I’ve missed that,” says Grace.
“Me, too,” Max agrees. He turns to her and swallows, hesitating for a minute before he finally works up the nerve to say, “Hey, uh. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. Pete’s right. We should be taking our sh*tty feelings out on people who deserve it, not each other.”
“Oh, Max, I forgive you,” says Grace “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean it when I said I don’t need you. I’m just worried everyone’s gonna leave me behind.”
“Really?” he replies “I’ve, uh, I’ve kinda been worried about the same thing.”
“Well, that’s an easy fix, isn’t it?” the game master says with a sinister grin and an excited, hungry glint in his purple eyes “you don’t want ‘em to leave you? Make ‘em stay. Make ‘em stay forever.”
Grace and Max turn to look each other in the eyes, which now possess the same bright, purple glow.
“Yeah, Gracie,” says Max, his mouth curling into its own evil smile as he slings the rifle over his shoulder “why were we fighting? We both want the same thing.”
“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Grace agrees, cackling evilly “let’s go.” She draws her gun as she and Max take off running.
Richie walks past a multitude of sketchy, poorly maintained carnival rides, the concerning whirring, screeching and grinding noises reverberating in his brain and working in tandem with the obnoxiously bright lights shining into his eyes, the freezing cold rain pelting his skin and his wet hair clinging to his face to create a state of almost unbearable overstimulation. As if that weren’t enough, he hears thunder cracking and jumps out of his skin. His heart speeds up, his muscles tense and all he can do is shakily attempt to take deep, slow breaths. He just wants to go home and curl up on the couch with Max.
Are you ever going to do that again? It wasn’t going to last forever, right? It’s not even a real thing, whatever you have. There’s not even a word for it.
He speeds up as if he can outrun the thought, unsure where he’s even going. He decides to find the closest thing to a dark, quiet room available - a mostly empty gift shop, a bathroom, whatever will shield him from the horrible, grating noises and the bright lights and the rain and the thunder - and text Max to come meet him there, because even if they’re fighting right now, even if he’s still mad, if he knows Richie needs him, he’ll come running.
The further he walks, the brighter the lights get and soon, he can’t see two feet in front of him. The pain in his eyes is almost unbearable. The noises increase in volume until they sound like they’re being blasted over the world’s largest speaker with the bass cranked up to infinity. He can’t hear anything else, except for the booming sound of thunder striking, which is somehow even louder. Every so often, Max’s words replay in his head: It wasn’t going to last forever, right?
Eventually, he realizes he can’t make it one more step. He sits down right where he is on the cold, wet pavement and hugs his knees, burying his face in them for a moment. He looks up to find Max standing over him, looking down with that soft, fond smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes (in fact, they look a little vacant), but Richie doesn’t pay that much mind. Max is probably just still a little upset, that’s all. The noise, the bright lights, the rain and the thunder are still here and unbearably loud and bright, but now he can focus on the sight of Max in front of him and ground himself a little.
“Max!” he says, tears of relief pricking at his eyes “you came! Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed at you and we’re going to talk about it later, because what you said wasn’t f*cking cool, but…but I’m so glad to see you. I need to get out of here. Can we go? Please?”
Max’s smile quickly morphs into a cold, disinterested look, but he doesn’t say anything back. Richie scoffs, now a little irritated.
“Oh, you do not get to give me the silent treatment right now!”
Still no response. He thought Max would at least argue back and they’d bicker a little, gently and affectionately, like they usually do, not like they did earlier today, and then he’d know that things are okay between them or at least they’re going to be. Aside from the physical touch, the cheek kisses and the lingering looks, it’s how they show they love each other and it’s just as important as any of those other things. If Max can’t even be bothered to do it, he must have been serious about what he said earlier. He didn’t just spew it in the heat of the moment to hurt Richie. He’s actually done. He’s really going to leave and find a real relationship with somebody who loves him the right way. Whatever they had was just a placeholder. It’s not enough, it never was and all of Max’s reassurances to the contrary were lies, cruel, malicious ones that only served to make this inevitable moment hurt even more.
Well, he’s done with you. Go deposit yourself into the nearest receptacle, trash.
Richie’s sadness gives way to anger, which boils over until he physically can’t contain it anymore. If he’s so f*cking disposable to Max, he’s going to show him the feeling his mutual. He springs to his feet and lunges at him, realizing something is off when he phases through him and is suddenly alone with the noise and the bright lights once more. He starts to fall forward, but before he can hit the pavement face-first, someone catches him.
“Richie,” says a voice that sounds distorted and distant, but he’s nonetheless fairly confident is Steph’s “Richie, can you hear me? Whatever you’re seeing right now, it isn’t real, even if it feels like it. You’re in control.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and takes slow, deep, breaths, timing them like Ruth showed Max how to do. He’s in control. It’s not real. What he saw just now wasn’t real. Max would never just ignore him like that and no matter how mad he is at him right now, Richie knows that. He opens his eyes and looks around. He can once again see the carnival rides surrounding him and the gray, cloudy sky. The bright lights are still annoying and hurt his eyes a little, but they don’t completely consume his field of vision. The concerning mechanical noises are still there and still grating, but they no longer drown out all else. His face is buried in Steph’s signature green flannel and he realizes that he’s awkwardly leaning on her and sort of laying halfway in her lap. He slowly gets up and coughs.
“Thanks, Steph,” he says, avoiding her gaze. He knows that at this point in their friendship, he shouldn’t be embarrassed that she saw him in that state, but he still is.
“You, uh, wanna talk about it?” she asks.
He shakes his head.
“Oh, good, because my dad said this park can ‘poison your thoughts until it’s all consuming’ and ‘drive you to do things you’d never ordinarily do’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers around Solomon’s words “so we should probably go find everyone else before they kill each other.”
“Okay,” he says. It’s a lot to take in, but he doesn’t have time to question it.
Instagram really didn’t do the view from the top of the Ferris wheel justice. Despite the gray, overcast sky and the rain obscuring it, it’s still cool to look down on all the carnival rides moving, the lights twinkling, couples strolling through the park hand-in-hand and small children running excitedly ahead of the exhausted parents who chase after them, all of whom move in a strangely predictable pattern that almost seems scripted. Scattered throughout the park are a handful of lone visitors who stand in place, almost completely still, and seem to be staring directly up at the Ferris wheel.
Personally, Brenda thinks the gloomy weather makes the view even cooler, adding a fun, eerie atmosphere, amplified even further by the occasional crack of thunder. She’d be enjoying it a lot more if she weren’t so worried about Ruth, though. She wouldn’t tell Brenda she was scared on the last ride, so how can she be sure she’s actually enjoying this one?
“Are you sure you’re okay, babe?” she asks for what she thinks is the twentieth time. She can tell Ruth is getting annoyed with her, which takes a lot, but she can’t help but worry. She has to be sure, not only that Ruth’s alright, but that Ruth will tell her the truth when she’s not. She needs to know that Ruth trusts her and knows she can lean on her. She’s smart and capable enough to help Ruth through any problem. Ruth said she believed as much. She proved it by letting Brenda in on the group’s schemes.
Did she really mean it? Or did she just say it so her dumb, airhead girlfriend would shut up and stop bugging her about it?
“I’m fine, God, stop asking!” Ruth says with a whiny affect that suddenly ceases to be so endearing when it’s directed at her and not somebody else.
“Alright, sorry, babe,” Brenda says with a saccharine fake smile and a sinister glint in her eyes, which now glow purple “I’ll take your word for it. So, since you’re really not scared, I guess you won’t mind if I do this.” She spits the last word emphatically and begins aggressively rocking their seat back and forth. Some small part of her is screaming at her to stop, that it’s so unnecessary and it’s only going to scare Ruth whether she admits it or not, but she still does it.
“Not at all,” Ruth says, looking a little unhinged herself, the color of her eyes changing to match “joke’s on you, I’m into this sh*t! It’s like I always say: harder! Faster!” Two can play at that game. Clearly, the incident on the roller coaster made Brenda think Ruth is some kind of coward. She has to prove her wrong. Brenda likes her because she thinks she’s brave. Overcoming her performance anxiety to take that lead role is what made her fall for Ruth in the first place, but now she’s beginning to realize that Ruth’s the same weak, fearful person she’s always been. She’s going to leave. She’s going to leave and Ruth’s going to be alone and unloved again. She can’t let that happen. She’ll show Brenda she’s no coward. She begins to rock the seat back and forth herself, swinging it with as much force as possible. They keep going, trying to one up each other, making the seat swing back further than it should physically be able to go.
They hear a creaking noise and the bench dips to one side, causing them both to slide to the edge. Brenda snaps out of her haze and gasps, instinctively clinging to Ruth as tightly as she can. Ruth wants to return the gesture more than anything, but she stops herself. She can’t show any weakness. She shrugs Brenda off and continues rocking the seat.
“Ruth, you’re scaring me,” says Brenda, looking at her with wide, nervous eyes as her entire body shakes “I-I think we need to stop.”
“There’s nothing to be scared of, babe! It’s a little dangerous, but that’s what makes it so exciting, right?”
See? She doesn’t trust you enough to let you hold her. And if she thinks you’re so smart and values your opinion so much, why did she totally shut you down just now?
“You’re right,” says Brenda, the faux-sweet grin returning “what were you saying earlier? Harder! Faster!” She starts rocking the seat again and they hear another creaking noise and the sound of metal clinking against metal. A singular screw goes flying and they watch it fall to the ground. The seat drops even further, now completely sideways. They dangle there, pressed up against each other, staring down at the ground and the grave injury or untimely end that awaits them there if the other beam attaching their seat to the Ferris wheel gives way. The ride continues its slow, gentle rotation as if nothing’s wrong and before they know it, they’ve reached the ground again. The ride operator doesn’t move a muscle to help them. He simply stares them down, looking almost disappointed. They awkwardly crawl out of their seats, climbing over the safety bar and landing on their hands and knees. They stand up and dust themselves off, pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes.
“Shame,” he says “we were just getting to the good part.”
Peter can’t feel how soaked and out of breath he is. He’s vaguely aware of the soreness of his muscles from lugging that mallet around, but it hardly registers. He’s circled the entire park several times and there’s still no sign of Max.
“Where are you, bud?” he calls out “I just wanna talk. Clear the air. Hammer things out.”
Something whizzes past him and burrows into the park bench behind him, leaving a smoking hole.
“Okay, shoot,” says Max, stepping into his view with a diabolical grin on his face and a rifle in hand “I’m all ears.”
“Finally came out of hiding, huh?” says Pete “here’s how it’s gonna go. I’m gonna kick your ass and then I’m gonna f*ckin’ kick your…” Peter’s confidence begins to falter “…head.”
“I’d like to see you try! Do it, Karate Kid,” Max replies “kick my head.”
“Okay, you called my bluff,” Pete says “I probably can’t land a roundhouse kick on your head. I do have a hammer though, sooo…” He lifts the mallet over his head with an unnatural ease. Max shoulders his rifle, staring down the barrel and lining up his shot. They stand like that for a moment, staring each other down, ready to strike as the rain continues to pour down on them. Just as Max is about to pull the trigger, thunder strikes and the booming sound begins to snap him out of it.
“Richie,” he says, a hint of concern appearing on his face as his eyes flicker between purple and their usual color.
“Oh, will you shut up about Richie for two seconds?” Peter says exasperatedly “I’m trying to kill you with a hammer! God, will you just let me do my thing?”
Max fires his gun, but misses. The bullet hits a metal signpost and ricochets off of it, heading back in Max’s direction and grazing his left ear as it flies past him. He hisses in pain, dropping his weapon and bringing his hand up to the wound. Blood drips down the side of his neck and onto the collar of his letterman. Pete seizes the opportunity, closing the gap between them and shoving Max to the ground. He brings the hammer down and Max rolls out of the way just in time for it to slam into the concrete. With a look of horror and utter despair on his face, Peter drops to his knees next to the site as Max watches him confusedly.
“Max,” he says desperately “Max, please, get up! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I- I was just pissed you called us nerds and losers! I wanted to prove I wasn’t.” He chuckles bitterly. “Well, intent versus impact, right? Oh, God, what did I do?”
Max realizes what has Peter so upset. Seeing his friend in this state is enough to fully bring him back. As the last traces of that purple glow vanish from his eyes, he calls out, “Pete! Pete, it’s okay! I’m fine! You didn’t hurt me. I mean, I kinda hurt myself a little, but it’s just a scratch.” He crawls over to Peter and firmly grabs him by the shoulders. “Pete,” he says again, “I’m right here. I’m okay.”
Pete looks at Max with uncertainty and blinks, as if trying to suss out whether he’s real.
“You’re…you’re really okay?” he says, a little dazed.
“Yeah, bro,” Max says gently “are you?”
In response, Peter breaks down crying.
“Of course not, Max. I thought I killed you! I saw…your face was all crushed in. I don’t…I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Max shakily stands up. His ears are still ringing and he’s dizzy and lightheaded, but he pushes through it to extend a hand to help Peter up and pull him into a hug that he eagerly returns.
“Sorry I called you a nerd and a loser,” Max says softly “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” Pete replies.
The tender moment is interrupted by another thunder strike.
“Richie!” says Max again. He pulls out his phone and calls him. His heart gradually sinks with each ring, dropping when he gets the beep and the generic voicemail message.
“Uh, hey, Richie,” he starts “so, I know you’re probably mad at me and we’ve maybe got some stuff to talk about, but, uh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know you hate thunder and there’s kind of a lot of it. Do you want to leave? We can find everyone else and get outta here. Just, uh, please call me when you get this. I’m sorry. All you wanted was a little space and I totally freaked out on you. I didn’t mean what I said before. It’s not that I don’t want this to last forever. I do. More than anything. I’m just scared it won’t. I’m scared you’re gonna leave. I’m scared all of you guys are gonna leave and I’ll be alone again, but this time it’ll hurt because I’ll know what I’m missing. All that stuff you were saying a while back about, like, moving in together after graduation, I still wanna do that. Call me when you get this so I know you’re okay. Please. I, uh, I love you.”
Max hangs up and sees that Pete’s on the phone, too.
“It’s Steph,” he says nonchalantly “Richie’s with her.”
“What?” says Max “why didn’t he pick up?”
He gets his answer when he sees them approaching in the distance, both lighting up and breaking into a run when they see him and Pete. Richie has his phone pressed to his ear. He smiles up at Max, looking at him with unbridled love and fondness. He rolls his eyes and slides his phone back into the pocket of his shorts.
“God, so dramatic,” he says, grabbing Max’s wrist and planting several soft, tender kisses on his cheek in quick succession. Max melts at the touch and returns the loving look, breaking out into a brilliant smile and tearing up every so slightly. “I love you, too,” Richie adds. He frowns when he sees the dried blood caked under Max’s nose and down the side of neck, cupping his face in his hand and pulling him closer to inspect it.
“What the hell happened? I left you alone for like an hour.”
“Oh, I got in a fight with one of those creepy mascot guys and accidentally kinda shot myself,” Max says with an easygoing smile.
“Can’t take you anywhere,” Richie replies with an affectionate grin, shaking his head.
Meanwhile, Stephanie tentatively reaches out and grabs Pete’s hand again. She keeps her grip loose, as if giving him an out. He squeezes it back as tightly as he can.
“Hey,” she says, looking vastly relieved to see him “sorry for ignoring you earlier. I kind of didn’t see you.”
“What do you mean you didn’t see me?” Peter asks “I was literally right next to you.”
She avoids his gaze for a moment, hesitating as if she’s working up the nerve to tell him. “My dad says this park kind of messes with your mind. Shows you exactly what you don’t want to see. So, I looked over and you weren’t there.”
His eyes soften. “That’s, uh, the worst thing you could have imagined?”
“Yeah. The mirrors oozing blood were pretty freaky, too, but the disappearing act was the highlight for sure,” she says. After a moment, she adds more somberly, “it was honestly pretty scary. Out of nowhere you were just, like, gone. I didn’t know what happened to you or why nobody was reacting.”
He wraps his arms around her and says, “Well, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, okay? Not getting out of the ten hour Zelda lore deep dive that easily.”
At that, she finally cracks a smile. “Who said I wanted to get out of it?”
“Okay,” says Pete “Max and Richie are cool again, we’ve established I’m not leaving and I no longer want to kill Max with a hammer.” Richie shoots him a look that might be more effective at killing than the hammer and he responds with a sheepish smile, patting Max on the shoulder. “Sorry, bud.”
“Aww, it’s alright, Pete,” Max replies cheerfully “I know you didn’t mean it. Sorry I tried to shoot you.”
Pete continues, “So all we need to do is find Grace, Ruth and Brenda, get the hell out of here and leave a scathing Yelp review.”
“sh*t,” says Steph “Grace! She should probably be priority number one. God knows what kind of disturbing things this park is making her see.”
“She also probably has a gun,” Max adds helpfully “last time I saw her, she had one like this.” He picks up his own rifle from the ground where he discarded it to illustrate his point. Steph immediately plucks it from his grasp. She furrows her brow and studies it for a moment.
“I think this is a BB gun,” she says. She aims it towards an empty wooden bench and pulls the trigger. Sure enough, it makes sort of a popping sound, a faint imitation of a gunshot, and fires off a small pellet that hits the bench, bounces off and falls to the ground, no smoking bullet holes left behind.
“Well, that’s slightly better, but it’s still not great. BB guns kill, like, four people every year,” Pete says.
“Nerd,” Steph says affectionately. This time, he doesn’t mind being called that.
“You said you saw Grace, Max?” Pete says “you remember where she was headed?”
He takes on a thoughtful expression, struggling to remember. Everything up until his encounter with Pete is sort of fuzzy now. “I…I’m not sure,” he says “I think maybe she was chasing Ruth and Brenda?”
Right at that second, a bright neon sign lights up in the distance and they all turn their heads to look at it. It’s a giant heart surrounding the words “tunnel of love”.
“Well, it is pretty on brand for Ruth,” says Richie.
“I don’t know,” says Pete uneasily “it might be a trap.”
“Yeah, it does seem a little too perfect,” Steph adds.
“But if there’s a chance they’re in there…” says Richie, also eyeing the sign apprehensively.
Max’s first instinct is to charge ahead of them and go in alone, despite his own fear and apprehension working their way through his body and settling in his chest. He’ll throw himself into danger if it means they don’t have to. He’ll do what it takes to protect him. It’s the least he can do after what he said to them earlier. He tries to yank his wrist free from Richie’s grasp, but he finds that it’s too tight to escape.
“No,” Richie says with an unimpressed look, knowing full well what he was about to do “you know I love how f*cking brave you are, but I just got you back. I’m not losing you again.”
“Yeah, seriously, no,” Pete agrees sternly.
Stephanie puts a hand on his shoulder and shoots him a wry smile. “Look, if we’re going to stupidly charge into an obvious trap to save our friends, we’re doing it together. Safety in numbers, right?”
Max smiles softly at them. “You guys are right,” he says “whatever’s in there, we can take it as long as we’re together. Let’s f*ckin’ go!”
So charge ahead he does, but Richie is right beside him, still hanging onto his wrist and occasionally turning to smile at him. Pete and Steph aren’t far behind, also hand in hand. She turns to look at him and finds that he’s disappeared once again, but this time she trusts he’s still there. It’s just Blinky trying to stir up drama again. It’s not real. She’s in control. She blinks, looks over and there he is, right by her side.
“I love you,” she says out of nowhere, continuing to run “I don’t really say it often enough, but, uh, yeah.”
Peter almost trips, but catches himself and keeps going, too. “I know. I love you too, Steph.” She doesn’t have to say it, but it’s still nice to hear.
They reach the entrance to the ride, which is just a narrow, man made river going through a dark tunnel. Richie cringes at the bright neon lights from the sign boring into his eyes. Max takes notice and produces a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of his letterman, handing them over to him. One of the lenses was cracked in his struggle with Pete, but they’ll still get the job done.
There’s a long line of other park guests milling about as they wait to reach the loading dock and get into the boats. Steph begins shoving past them.
“Mayor’s daughter,” she says each time she does it. A few people angrily call out, “Hey!” or “You can’t do that!” or “What the hell?”. A handful of others simply watch her with a trace of amusem*nt in their purple eyes.
Pete soon joins her, aggressively knocking people to the ground as moves past them.
“Out of our way, trash,” he says.
“Ha! Nice job, Pete,” Max says, barreling past the fallen guests as they try to pick themselves up and gleefully punching anybody still in their way. Richie’s right behind him, kicking one tall, muscular guy in the chest to prevent him from getting up and another in the shins, just for fun.
“What are you gonna do about it, bitch?” he says smugly as the man lets out a pained, surprised grunt.
They finally reach the front of the line and abruptly cut in front of the group that’s about to board the nearest boat, stealing their seats. Steph and Pete sit up front, Max and Richie behind them. The ride operator does nothing to intervene. He simply watches and pulls the lever to send their boat down the tunnel.
“Alright, guys,” says Steph “remember, this park f*cks with your head. You might see some pretty disturbing stuff in here. Just remember, we’re in control. None of it’s real.”
It’s so dark in the tunnel that they can’t see a thing, silent save for the sound of their breaths and the gentle current of the water. Richie removes the sunglasses and sticks them in his pocket, fumbling around until he finds Max’s hand and grips it tightly. They pass by a series of display windows, each of which has a miniature blue spotlight lighting up a romantic scene within it. Most of them are from obscure old musicals that only Ruth and maybe Brenda would recognize, but that’s not what any of them see.
Steph is more focused on their reflection in the glass. She sees hers flicker between her usual self and the version she saw in the funhouse, wearing her father’s suit and holding the book with the strange symbol. As the reflections go back and forth, Peter disappears and reappears. Her breath grows ragged and shallow as she begins to second guess which one is the real her. The worst part is that she knows it’s not real, she knows, but at the same time she doesn’t. How is she supposed to regain control?
“Hey,” Pete’s voice cuts through everything and just for a moment, the flickering stops. She tears her eyes away from the windows and focuses on him. “Maybe it’ll help ground us if we keep talking as much as possible. Wanna hear about Ruth’s comprehensive list of the most f*ckable Star Wars characters in the franchise? ‘Cause I had to at one point and now it’s forever burned into my brain.”
Richie groans. Steph smiles. They can’t see it, but Max takes on a slightly confused expression.
“Uh, sure,” Steph says, partially because literally any distraction is welcome at this point, partially out of good old fashioned morbid curiosity.
“Okay,” says Pete “it goes from least to most. Starting with Jar Jar Binks…” his voice echoes through the tunnel as he goes into excruciating detail about her reasoning. Steph listens intently, honestly so disturbed but also delighted that she forgets where they are. Richie’s been subjected to the list before, but focuses on the familiar words to ground himself like Pete suggested. Max does his best to listen, but finds himself distracted by the sight of hordes of tiny skeletons dancing menacingly in the display windows.
“I didn’t think there’d be skele’uhns here,” he says with a shudder.
“What? There are no skeletons here. What are you, stupid? And don’t tell me you’re still f*ckin’ scared of them. So much for being brave,” Richie says.
Max’s jaw tenses. He’s about to yell, to jump over the side of the boat and storm off, but then he remembers what Steph said about none of this being real. Richie would never talk to him like that. He’s in control. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the sound of the water gently splashing against the sides of the boat and the feeling of Richie’s hand on his.
“What skeletons, Max?” is what he actually says. “None of it’s real, I promise. We got you, okay?”
Max nods, scooting closer so that their arms are touching and he can feel the warmth radiating off Richie’s body.
In the distance, they see a boat identical to theirs that appears to be stopped in its tracks. Standing on top of it is a figure wielding a gun, aiming it at the two unfortunate passengers inside.
“Grace,” Steph whispers.
As they get closer, the faint light from the display windows allows them to see her bow is askew, her blouse untucked, her butterfly clips all out of place. Most unnerving of all are her eyes, which possess a wild look and glow a piercing bright purple. They finally get as close as they possibly can and the boats collide. Grace stumbles, but catches herself and aims the gun squarely at them.
“Oh, good,” she says “the gang’s all here!”
“There you guys are,” says Brenda in a shaky voice “little help?”
“What are you talking about, babe? We don’t need help. I’ve got it all under control,” Ruth says. She reaches out her arms and tries to sweep Grace’s legs, but she expertly dodges the attack and steps on Ruth’s fingers.
“Ruth!” says Brenda “let me see.” She tries to inspect Ruth’s hands, but she pulls it away and insists she’s fine.
“Guys!” Steph calls out “stop, seriously! Whatever you’re seeing or hearing right now, it’s just Blinky f*cking with you for his sick enjoyment. Don’t let him win!”
“Blinky?” Brenda says, slightly puzzled “that ugly ass mascot?”
“Ha, you’re right, babe, he is ugly,” Ruth says, the sinister tone gone from her voice. Brenda looks into her eyes, relieved to see they’ve returned to their usual deep brown. “And his sniggles can’t act or sing to save their lives!”
For a split second, a blinding purple light illuminates the entire tunnel, then disappears, leaving them in darkness again.
“Sorry, Brenda,” Ruth says softly, taking her hands and staring intently into her eyes “I don’t know what came over me before. I never should have put you in danger like that. I just wanted you to think I was, I don’t know, bold and courageous. That’s why you liked me in the first place! I thought if you realized I was still such an anxious mess of a person, you’d leave me.”
“Oh, Ruth,” says Brenda “nothing could make me stop liking you. And you are bold and courageous. Getting scared sometimes doesn't change that. Everybody’s scared of something. I’m still afraid of needles! Oh, that reminds me, I’m getting my flu shot tomorrow, will you come with and hold my hand? And can we get fro-yo after?”
“Of course, babe,” Ruth replies.
Despite the danger of the situation, Brenda feels like she can breathe again. It’s a huge relief that Ruth is acting like her usual self and as weird and honestly terrifying as it is to realize that this park had some freaky supernatural hold on them, it’s nice to have confirmation that neither she nor Ruth were fully themselves when they were doing all of that horrible stuff to each other earlier (although deep down, Brenda always knew that). More than that, Ruth finally opened up and told her what was wrong. She admitted she was afraid. Ruth does trust her. Ruth does care what she thinks, apparently too much sometimes. Sliding back into normalcy with their plans for tomorrow feels amazing, too. They’ll walk into their favorite fro-yo shop (well, the only fro-yo shop in Hatchetfield) hand-in-hand, mix about ten different flavors that rightfully don’t belong together and pile on an absurd amount of toppings, then they’ll sit down at their favorite table by the window and Ruth will keep sneaking soft, loving glances her way while she rambles on about her favorite musicals and Brenda tells her all about the new cheer routine the squad is working on for regionals. She feels a warmth in her chest as she thinks about it and throws her arms around Ruth, squeezing her tightly and planting an eager, enthusiastic kiss on her cheek. Ruth should be used to this by now, but she still blushes.
“Grace!” says Max “we were worried about you! C’mon, put down the gun and let’s get out of here, okay?”
“Oh, really?” she says “you were worried? Because we were supposed to work together and then you ditched me! Of course you went to find Richie. He’s always gonna be more important to you! All of you have somebody who’s always going to be more important to you!”
“That’s not true!” Max protests “I wasn’t looking for Richie, I was trying to kill Pete!”
“I can vouch for that,” Pete says.
“Excuses, excuses,” Grace replies. She smiles sweetly and takes on a faux-chipper tone. “Doesn’t matter now. The important thing is we’re all here together. Now none of you get to leave me, ever, because I have a gun!”
“BB gun,” Steph corrects.
“Oh,” says Grace “well, if it’s just a BB gun, surely you won’t mind if I shoot it right through your eye.” She points it at Steph’s face. Steph looks back at her unflinchingly with a thoroughly unamused expression. “They’re still pretty dangerous, you know. They kill four people every year!”
“Thank you!” Pete says emphatically, throwing his hands up “that’s what I’m saying!”
“Don’t agree with her! She’s holding us at BB gunpoint,” says Steph.
“So?” Pete replies “she’s right!”
“Uh, Grace,” Richie chimes in, amazingly calm “can I ask why you’re holding us hostage? Just curious. I mean, this is pretty on brand for you, but you normally wouldn’t do it to us and you wouldn’t do it for no reason.”
“Yeah,” Steph adds “whatever weird supernatural sh*t’s going on with this park aside, something’s clearly bothering you. What’s up?”
Grace stares down at her friends. She can just barely see them, but it’s clear that they’re looking upon her with concern, not fear or judgment. They’re worried about her. She threatened them with a weapon and all they want is to know what’s wrong. She looks down at Ruth, who’s clutching her left hand as Brenda examines her injured fingers and feels her her heart grow heavy with guilt. The purple glow in her eyes begins to flicker on and off.
So? They care about you, big deal. The problem is there’s always going to be someone else they care about more. Someone else they build their lives with. One by one, they’ll all leave you and you’ll never find anything like that because there’s something wrong with you.
Grace looks at Steph and thinks back to the night she dropped everything to come pick her up. She remembers shivering on her front lawn surrounded by bags as Steph handed over her beloved flannel without even being asked. She invited Grace to come live with her without hesitation and annihilated her parents’ reputation around town, all so Grace could stay with her, because leaving her out to dry wasn’t even an option in Steph’s mind. She thinks of all the fun she had scheming with Brenda. She thinks of the night of the kidnapping, she and Max both glued to Richie’s side doing whatever they could to make him feel better, reaching new levels of trust and intimacy. She remembers how determined they all were to destroy Gabe when she told them how he treated her. Ruth was so excited that somebody finally wanted to go to a dance with her after four years of rejection and she still missed over half of it to execute that plan without complaint. Come to think of it, Pete must have been excited to go to his first dance, too, and with Stephanie Lauter of all people, but he also gave that up for Grace’s sake. Heck, they all missed “The Best of You” for her. That’s a huge deal! They do care. They do love her. They might have all found their person, but they’ve been making her a priority this whole time, just as she does for them. They might move on. They might get married and move out and build lives together, but Grace will always be a part of them. Even if they all have their person and she doesn’t, she’ll be okay. She doesn’t need one. She has her friends and they’ll always be there for her.
“No, I’m alright, Steph,” Grace replies. She means it.
“Are you sure? Because that was, like, three solid minutes of silence,” Steph replies.
“Okay, I was a little down before,” Grace confesses “I was worried that you guys were all going to leave me behind ‘cause you all have partners and I don’t think I want that…I’ve never really wanted that. I’m sorry! I never should have doubted you. I let Blinky get in my head, but now I’m starting to think he’s just a stupid bitch who doesn’t know what he’s talking about and needs to mind his own business!”
The interior of the tunnel is once again bathed in blinding purple light. Richie squints and dons the sunglasses again. They all simultaneously look down and realize that the water levels are rapidly rising.
“sh*t,” says Steph “I think that’s our cue to swim for it.”
They all jump off the side of the boat and paddle frantically, barely able to see two feet in front of them or tell which way the exit is. Max leads the way, doing an expert breast stroke courtesy of his swim team training. Every minute or so, he turns around and calls out to them to make sure they’re still there.
“Marco,” he says.
“Polo,” they all reply, their voices echoing.
At long last, they reach the exit. They can just barely make out the rounded archway that leads out to the loading ramp through which they first entered. They can see the silhouettes of the park guests standing in line waiting to board and the ride operator looking their way, his hand hovering over a lever. With a sinister grin, he pulls that lever and suddenly, a metal gate begins descending from the ceiling.
Grace doesn’t hesitate. She dives under the water and swims beneath the gate, emerging on the other side. She runs for the lever, yanking it in the opposite direction. She’s overtaken with relief when she sees the gate going up, but she can’t relax just yet. She has to take care of the ride operator before he retaliates or tries to trap her friends again. She thinks back to the show earlier and decides to take inspiration from what happened to Sniglette. With every ounce of physical strength in her body, fueled by the sadness, anger and pain she’s experienced at the hands of this horrible place today, she lands a flawless right hook on the side of his face. She hears crunching. She steps back, a little shocked at what she was just able to do. Sure, she and her friends have attacked plenty of people, but she’s pretty sure she just broke that man’s jaw. She’s amazed she was able to do it without any help, without so much as a weapon. That was all her.
“Nice!” Max shouts as he and the rest of her friends exit the tunnel “give him hell, Grace!”
Now sporting a bruised, swollen jaw that put’s Sniglette’s injuries to shame, the ride operator tries to lunge at Grace, but Steph and Pete spring into action, jumping in front of her. They each grab one of his arms and hold him down, giving each other a conspiratorial look.
“Hey, Max, tag in,” Pete says. Max obliges, landing an equally impressive punch on his nose. There’s another crunching sound and blood gushes from it.
“You can’t run,” he says weakly “he’s always watching.”
“Yeah?” Pete replies “well, tell him to get a life, okay?”
Now that he’s sufficiently incapacitated, lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, they make a run for it. Past the rides, past the games, past the boutiques, once again shoving past other park visitors as necessary (and, occasionally, for fun). Once they reach the main entrance, they’ll be home free. All they need to do is get through the gate, sprint out to the car and get the hell out of here. Stephanie’s not sure where her dad is, but she assumes he’s fine. He seems to be pretty familiar with the weirdness of this town and well-equipped to handle it. She honestly can’t imagine him being emotionally vulnerable enough for anything this park can throw at him to actually shake him. She’ll just commandeer the car and drive them to safety. She’s pretty confident he won’t mind and, if anything, will have some sort of weird respect for her audacity and callousness in leaving him here to rot. He’ll probably pour her some kind of expensive liquor and tell her she has a bright future in politics for the billionth time. She’s surprised to find herself looking forward to it.
They’re stopped in their tracks by a familiar figure standing in front of them. It’s the ticket taker that greeted them when they first arrived. He crosses his arms and looks at them with scathing disapproval. He’s soon joined by Papa sniggle, who still holds the mallet he used in the show, the barker from the strength testing game and the ride operators from the Ferris wheel and the tunnel of love. The latter holds a hand up to his brutally injured face. They stand in a line, staring the group down with furious purple eyes and blocking their only path to escape.
“Oh, not so fast,” the ticket taker says in an excessively cheerful, but somehow also threatening tone “why are you in such a hurry to leave? The fun’s just getting started. Blinky hasn’t seen everything yet.”
“So?” Ruth says “how’s that our problem? God! As usual, we have to do everything around here! I can’t believe I undressed you with my eyes earlier. You’re not sexy, you’re annoying!”
“No, you brats are the annoying ones,” he replies “Blinky’s had enough of this contrived, sappy dappy power of friendship bullsh*t! He demands blood and none of us get to leave until you provide it.”
“Well, it’s not our fault your working conditions suck,” Stephanie snaps back.
Ruth looks at the ticket taker and has an idea. If Blinky wants blood, that can be arranged. It’s what she and her friends do best. She begins to remove her headgear as the others watch with confusion. Once it’s off, she flings it at the ticket taker as hard as she can. The metal component slices across his face and leaves a nasty red gash that oozes blood. He hisses. She grabs Brenda’s hand and seizes the opportunity to sprint past him. The others aren’t far behind. Papa sniggle tries to swing his mallet at Richie, but he’s apparently still intoxicated, because he stumbles and misses. Infuriated, Max grabs his arm and twists it around as hard as he can, flinging the man to the ground. Grace and Steph run to his sides, smiling at each other before they each raise a foot and bring it down on his fingers hard. They can hear the bones crunching beneath their shoes. Pete picks up the mallet and turns to the barker.
“Hey, man, thanks for the hammer. You can have it back now,” he says, swinging it at his shins.
Having delivered the blood Blinky wanted so badly, they all run for the parking lot as fast as humanly possible. Grace and Pete take the lead, knowing they’re the only ones who remember where they parked. They reach the sleek, black Escalade that Solomon drives when Miss Tessburger isn’t chauffeuring him around in the stretch limousine. Stephanie’s contemplating how she’s supposed to get into the car, but suddenly feels a weight in the pocket of her flannel and reaches in to find the keys. She doesn’t remember grabbing them, but she’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She hits a button on the fob to unlock it and climbs into the driver’s seat.
“I call shotgun,” Pete says as he gets in on the passenger side. Grace and Max burst out laughing and the rest of the group soon joins them. It’s desperately needed, immediately lifting the mood and making things feel almost normal. They’re soaking wet, bloodied and exhausted. They still have much they need to talk about and some of the things they saw today are sure to haunt their dreams for a while, but they’re here. They’re together. They made it out alive and they’ll be okay. They can lean on each other and as soon as school’s back in session, they can take out today’s traumas on all the defenseless nerds to make themselves feel better. Peter thinks of all the empty lockers just waiting to have dweebs and losers shoved into them and grins mischievously. That can wait, though. For now, they’ll gather at Steph’s place, take scalding hot showers, change into fresh-out-of-the-dryer warm clothes and put on yet another bad movie to make fun of. Stephanie puts the car in reverse and begins to back out, finding it a little awkward to maneuver a vehicle so huge compared to her tiny sedan, but eventually finds her footing and drives off into the bright afternoon sun that’s finally peeking through the clouds.
“Wait, Ruth,” says Brenda “your headgear! Don’t you need it?”
“Nah,” Ruth replies “can I tell you guys something kind of stupid?”
“I’m sure it’s not stupid, babe,” Brenda says softly “but yeah, what’s up?”
“I haven’t needed it for a while. Not physically, anyway. I just kept wearing it ‘cause it made me feel safe. Kind of like a comfort object, I guess? But I always feel safe when I’m with you guys and even if I still get scared sometimes I’m not scared and insecure, like, all the time anymore. You’ve all made me realize I’m pretty hot sh*t and I can do anything. Unlike certain people named Trevor. I can let it go now.”
In the rearview mirror, she can see Pete and Steph smiling softly.
“Well, it got a pretty great send off,” Stephanie says.
Grace unbuckles her seatbelt and leans forward in the back row to hug Ruth from behind, continuing the group’s tradition of wild disregard for road safety.
“Oh, Ruth!” she says “I’m so glad you’re not afraid anymore. I’m sorry I hurt you earlier. I hope you still feel safe around me!”
Ruth simply brings her hands up to squeeze Grace’s.
“‘Tis but a scratch,” she says. Richie rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, too. Of course the one time Ruth’s not making a Star Wars reference, she’s unironically quoting the most overused line from Monty Python instead.
“According to my asshole gym teacher, my inhaler’s also just a comfort object I don’t actually need,” Richie comments “maybe I should look into suing the school like Paul’s cousin Gary said.”
“f*ck yeah!” says Max “do it! We can get an apartment together and maybe open up that store you were talking about.”
“Ooh,” says Grace “and if that doesn’t work, we can make a plan to get him fired and make sure he never works in the district again! He’ll have to move to Clivesdale with my stupid parents!”
“I’m listening,” says Brenda, turning around to look at Grace intently and smile at her. Grace begins to rattle off some ideas, each more unhinged than the last as the group hypes her up and occasionally chimes in with their own contributions. By the time they reach Steph’s place, they have a solid scheme and several backup plans. They truly are better together.
Solomon sits in the dark security room, illuminated only by the multiple monitors on the wall displaying live footage from every camera in the park. Why this is necessary when this park only exists for the amusem*nt of Blinky, who sees all and certainly doesn’t care about the safety of the guests here, is anybody’s guess, but regardless of the reasoning, it’s proving useful today. It’s what enabled him to watch as his daughter and her friends successfully made their escape. He could have just used his bugging device and listened in, but the visual provides a fuller picture of what’s happening and he stopped hearing anything from it around the time they escaped the tunnel of love. Stephanie’s phone must have been ruined when it was submerged in the water. She’s not going to be too pleased when she realizes that, but he’ll buy her a new one. She’s earned it. He smiles faintly and does a slight nod of approval. She pulled it off. He wondered whether she could when armed with the knowledge he provided her earlier today and she once again exceeded his expectations. On some level, he supposes he knew she would, hence why he slipped the car keys into her pocket as they exited the funhouse. Many who enter this park succumb to its manipulation and either don’t leave at all or leave in a body bag, but through taking down anyone who stood in their way with zero regard for their wellbeing, she and her friends conquered it. What’s more, his daughter didn’t let foolish sentimentality drive her to turn around and try and rescue him. She left him out to dry and stole his car to boot. He chuckles. She’s a Lauter, alright.
