Dreamland

Feeling all the way better, she went upstairs and took a long shower. It took her a while to sort through the clothing on her floor to find her favorite pair of jeans, a thin T-shirt, and an oversize cashmere sweater with leather patches at the elbows, which always made her feel like she should be living on a real farm and not just an imitation of one.

Outside, it was cold, clear, and very bright: one of those days that looks like a child’s drawing, the sun shooting daggers at the ground out of a radiant blue sky. She jogged across the road, her breath steaming in the air, pushing aside a sudden memory of Co

Co

“You’re early,” he said. He didn’t look like he’d been kept awake by nightmares. He looked the same as he always did—easy, smiling. Maybe a little more tired than usual, but not much.

She knew she was early, and she knew he would comment on it, and she’d pla

But confronted with Co

“Give me ten minutes.” He stepped back to let her inside.

She’d been over to Co

Her mom would be so pissed.

Co

In the very back of the arrangement of photographs, Dea spotted a photo of an infant wrapped in a blue blanket decorated with giraffes. She felt a quick shock of recognition: she’d seen that pattern before. She’d seen it in Co

“That’s my brother.” Co

“What happened to him?” Dea asked.

He looked faintly a

Dea thought of the screams that had chased her out of Co

“I’m sorry,” Co

“Okay,” she said. “I understand.”

Then he was easy again, all smiles. Sometimes that a

“Dream on,” she said.

NINE

Co

The carnival grounds were packed with people. Mud squelched underneath Dea’s sneakers. The Ferris wheel loomed in the sky like the domed back of a monster. It was loud. The ancient rides creaked and groaned under the weight of their passengers. Periodically, screams erupted, a constant rhythm that took on the quality of waves heard from a distance. The air smelled like smoke and meat and spun sugar. Co

She wondered if her mom had returned home yet, then pushed the thought out of her mind. Deep down, she knew that if her mom insisted on moving, Dea would have no choice but to go with her. But Miriam wouldn’t insist. Not when she knew how miserable it would make Dea.

Would she?

They ate hot dogs at a paint-splattered picnic table, enjoying the November sun, while Mack and Richie ran circles in the damp grass with kids costumed like vampires and demons, and Gollum explained her theories on the metaphorical significance of the Ferris wheel.

“It’s all about the futility of ambition,” she said, stabbing the air with a plastic straw. “You try as hard as you can to get to the top, but you don’t realize that striving will just topple you and bring you right down to the bottom.”

“So let me get this straight: you don’t want to ride the Ferris wheel?” Co

Gollum sniffed. “I don’t ride metaphors,” she said. “Too unstable.”

They played three rounds of zombie hunter, shooting fine sprays of water into wooden figurines fitted with targets on their stomachs. Co

“No fair.” She laughed, breathless, as he raised his arms and declared himself the victor. “You cheated.”

“I strategized,” he corrected her. For a second they were close—so close she could see his individual lashes and streaks of green threaded through the brown of his eyes and the soft planes of his cheekbones. So close she was sure he would kiss her—there, in front of everyone.

“He’s got a point, Donahue,” Gollum said, and the moment passed. Co

Happy. She was happy. She forgot about Co

But time passed. The sun withered on the ground. It got colder. The crowd changed: parents hustled their children out to the parking lot, and Richie got cranky, and started crying when he didn’t win at a darts game.