Page 81 of Falling Madly
“Well, I’m not supposed to go on rollercoasters or have hot baths. I’d rather play it safe.”
Charlie gave me a questioning look. “You said you were happy to.”
“Are you okay?” Trevor leaned in to talk straight into my ear, over the noise around us. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I’m fine. I just… I know that guy.” I glanced at the loudspeakers, where Julian’s self-important speech went on and on.
“The architect who loves his own voice?”
I nodded.
“And I suppose you have a history?”
He’d probably find out soon enough. All my dirty secrets were about to be exposed. I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to hear it from me. The whole story, with context. But there was no time. My insides churned, and I grabbed his hand, my eyes stinging. “I set his car on fire. And burned a bit of the school building.”
“What?”
“It’s… a long story. I didn’t mean to burn the building.”
“Please prepare for take-off!” Julian bellowed.
“They’re not rocket ships,” Charlie muttered, herding us into the sled.
I lowered myself into position at the front of it, holding onto the flabby sides.
“We can talk later,” Trevor whispered into my ear as he sat behind me, extending his legs on either side of me.
I had to sit against him, feeling the confusing warmth of his body and those strong arms tightening around me. I removed the scarf, tucking it inside the sled, away from our bodies. I couldn’t let myself be impaled before I explained myself. Trevor needed the whole story.
The countdown blasted through the sound system and Charlie got ready to push us.
Three—two—one—we were off. The cold breeze hit my face, my eyes watering so much I struggled to see ahead. But it didn’t matter. There was no way to steer this thing. All we could do was to hold on, hoping it held together through the steepest part of the slope, over the two slight bumps.
The first one sent us airborne and delivered a painful landing that might have bruised my tailbone. The second one was much lower, almost at the finish line. For a second, I thought we might avoid it, but no. Our sled veered straight to the highest part of the bump.
This time, I didn’t notice any lift-off, only the pain in my already bruised bottom. And suddenly, there was no sled. The sides of it were torn off by the impact, pieces of cardboard scattering in the wind as we continued riding down on the bottom piece, then slid off it, rolling down and finally hitting the first hay bale.
Somehow, the unfinished scarf landed on top of me, the knitting needles grazing my cheek, as if to remind me of my mortality.
“Are you okay?” Trevor hoisted me upright, untangling the scarf.
I stood, tentatively stretching my arms and legs. My ass was sore, but nothing seemed broken. I straightened my back to look ahead, and that was when I saw him.
Julian.
He was as strapping as he’d ever been. The quarterback. The hottest guy in high school. In Hollywood justice, he would have turned into the washed-out loser who never moved out of his hometown, but no. Julian might have left, but now he was back—the hottest architect in town. He was surrounded by a group of older, well-dressed men, one of whom I recognized as his father.
He took one look at me, and his face fell. “Teresa?”
“Hi, Julian.”
“Teresa Shaw?” His father echoed, his voice rising in alarm. “You have some nerve showing your face here.”
I was suddenly sixteen years old, cowering in a doorway as Julian’s father and the school principal shouted at me. The crazy girl who couldn’t be trusted, the one who was too dangerous and unpredictable. An absolute hazard. A liar.
I hadn’t been lying, though. I’d been telling inconvenient truths. No one believed me. I’d been too scared then, but I wasn’t scared now.
“I have every right to take part in town events,” I replied, my voice hoarse.
