Take Me Home

Unlike the piddly little Ferris wheel, the maze of mirrors was more expansive on the inside than it appeared to be on the outside. I wandered through the Plexiglas labyrinth, gazing back at the warped and wobbly freckle-faced strawberry blonde doppelgangers that followed me along the walls.

Wait for me outside the House of Mirrors, he said. I'm coming right back, he said.

But that was probably something like fifteen minutes ago. What's taking him so long?

The drooping canvas ceiling served as a sort of compass; the closer I was to the center of the tent, the higher the canvas was from the top of the mirrored walls of the maze. I could tell I was very near the center when I found one mirror in particular that was smudged with handprints in the exact spot a doorknob should have been. I gave it a gentle push, and just as I thought, it was another one of those swiveling doors.

Someone was on the other side. I froze.

I knew who she was before I even caught sight of Nathaniel standing across from her. She was the type who wore every nuance of emotion on her face—an elegant, ladylike face framed in wavy brown hair that was tied half-up in a pink ribbon. Even though her brows were screwed up in frustration, she was beautiful.

I hung back, not wanting to intervene. Neither of them paid any attention to me; they must not have realized I was even there.

I guess this is why he wanted me to wait outside…

Melody was talking, but it was hard for me to see the words. There was a lot of you. There was a make or a can't. There was an I don't understand that made her lower lip quiver.

Nathaniel stood with his back towards me, shoulders slumped, head tilted down, hands in his pockets.

Melody's white tennis shirt fluttered delicately as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hair falling over her shoulders as she shook her head. She looked dangerously close to tears as she waited for Nathaniel to say something. Well? she urged him.

Whatever she wanted him to say, he wouldn't say it—or couldn't say it. He stared intently at a spot on the ground, then brought a hand out of his pocket, holding his phone.

What are you doing? Melody demanded.

Nathaniel didn't answer her. He was typing a text message one-handed.

Oh, no. He's not sending me another 'I'll be right back' text, is he? Because if he is—

I scrambled to reach my own phone and tried to turn the vibration off, but it was too late. Nathaniel's inbound text ("I'm sorry, I promise I'll be there soon") lit up the screen and sent shudders through my fingers.

I'm not sure what gave me away; either she heard the noise the vibration made or she noticed the light and the door that hung open. When her watery blue eyes found me, her sadness overflowed, and she buried her face in her hands.

Nathaniel, unsure of what to do, tried to console her, but she was beyond consolation. She tore her hands away from her face, balling them into fists, and shouted something at him, stamping her foot indignantly. She rushed past me in a tearful pink-and-white blur and disappeared around a corner of the labyrinth, chased by countless reflections.

Did I just witness Nathaniel breaking up with his girlfriend?

Well…whoever Melody was to Nathaniel, she was gone now.

I moved into the maze's center, shortening the distance between us, then stopped when I got within a few feet of him. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch him, but that wasn't what this situation called for, so I bottled the urge and stood still.

Nathaniel knew I was watching him and was trying so hard to keep it together. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He blinked with fluttering eyelashes and brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

Is he…about to cry?

Sympathy and irritation flooded my mind at the same time.

Don't cry, Nathaniel, please! I didn't mean for her to see me and get so upset…

No, it wasn't me who made her upset—that was all you. What were you thinking, texting another girl at a time like that? It's no wonder she's heartbroken, after what you did!

…What other dirty little secrets do you not want me to know about besides little miss Melody?

But seriously, don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to stand it…

For the sake of busying my idle hands, I checked the time on my phone. It was already 9:30.

I leaned forward and put a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. He jumped at the touch and whirled around to face me, his soft brown eyes sunken and sad.

Oh, Nathaniel, don't look at me like that…

I showed him the time, trying to keep my face as stoic as possible as my heart raced.

He nodded listlessly when he understood.

Thankfully, it was easy to find our way back out of the maze. The exit door still stood conspicuously open from when Rude Blonde Girl so carelessly bashed it into my head—and Tall, Dark, and Handsome had come to my rescue.

We opted not to go back through the still bustling carnival midway. I followed him away from the high school parking lot across the quiet, dimly-lit street, the night air raising goosebumps on my arms. I held the notebook and the yearbook to my chest and shivered. Nathaniel's blue truck appeared in the distance where he'd left it parked at the empty, black-windowed bank.

Was it childish of me to feel disappointed when he didn't scramble to open the passenger-side door for me like he did when he picked me up? Maybe just a little. He was anxious to get in the truck—probably so that he could drop me off and go home and forget this night ever happened.

While I searched for the seatbelt, he reached around me to grab something out of the back. He eased into his seat once his hands found what he was looking for: a white and gray athletic jacket. He held it out to me, his mouth forming the word cold—you must be cold or it suddenly got cold, perhaps.

It was funny. The first thing I ever said to him was about how hot it was—which was my clever way of trying to hide how enchanted I was by him. The same tingling feeling that teased my heart when I first saw him came back with a vengeance, and I was unable to hide my smile.

Nathaniel's was one of those older trucks that had no center console; the passenger and driver seats were pretty much like a couch. I set my books down on the seat beside me and scooted closer to him. The raglan sleeves were slinky against my skin as I slipped the jacket on backwards, flaying my fingers open when they breached the ribbed cuffs. My hand accidentally brushed his back, but I didn't withdraw it immediately like I should have. I let it linger there, giving him what I hope he interpreted as a compassionate pat—which turned into a compassionate squeeze.

He didn't let this chance pass by. Just like that, his arms were around me, holding me in our first embrace. I squeezed back, shyly at first, then harder, my hands exploring the graceful curves and firm, smooth flesh of his back and shoulders.

I felt his jaw move like he was trying to talk to me, so I pulled away. I'm sorry, Johanna, he was saying—along with a jumble of other things that I couldn't see in the half-light.

It's okay, I wanted to tell him—but with no pen and no interpreter, the only way I could tell him was to show him.

Show him…with a kiss?

Absolutely not! To kiss him now would be inappropriate on so many levels.

…It seemed all of the things I wanted to do to Nathaniel were 'inappropriate,' so I sat there and watched his lips, wishing I had the magic cure for whatever was hurting him—and feeling sort of empty because I knew I didn't.

We returned to our respective sides of the front seat and he drove us back to our cookie-cutter subdivision. We arrived in front of my red brick house after minutes that felt as fleeting as milliseconds. I quickly glanced at the clock on the radio to confirm that we were right on time. It 10:06, but at least we weren't late enough to arouse suspicion.

I'd almost forgotten about the yearbook. I handed it to Nathaniel—who smiled appreciatively when he realized he never got one for himself. I started to take the jacket off, but he shook his head and insisted that I keep it, at least for now—because I would surely catch my death of cold within the five seconds it would take for me to walk across the lawn to the front door, right?

I waved goodbye to him from the porch, and he waved back, smiling crookedly. He made sure I was through the door before he pulled away, turning into his own driveway only about a hundred yards away.

I closed the front door behind me, leaning against it and exhaling prominently—then immediately straightening back up when I saw Mom and Dad were waiting up for me.

They had taken up all the drop cloths from the living room carpet—which was, oddly enough, different from the carpet in the rest of the house. They were sitting on the plush sofa in the middle of the room; Dad was holding a camera face-out, looking through the pictures on its digital display.

Hey, I greeted to them.

Hey, Dad mimicked, setting the camera down on the couch cushion. I was just about to send you a text.

Cutting it awfully close, aren't you? Mom contributed.

I'm sorry, I apologized. We just lost track of time. We meant to come back sooner—which was true enough. I probably wouldn't have been late if I hadn't touched him—but what fun would that have been?

I guess he was 'fun' after all? Dad asked ironically, raising an eyebrow when he saw I wore his jacket.

I pulled the jacket off and slung it over my arm. Yeah, he's nice, I emphasized.

He is quite the little gentleman, Mom agreed, smiling shamelessly.

I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket, and felt slightly ashamed of how badly I wanted it to be Nathaniel telling me he couldn't stop thinking about me, either. We'd been apart, what, thirty seconds? A minute?

I'm tired, I exaggerated, stretching my aching arms and shoulders. I'm going to bed. Good night, Mom. Good night, Dad.

Good night, they echoed, dismissing me.

Once I was upstairs and behind my room's closed door, I dug my phone out of my pocket. "I feel like I owe you an apology," Nathaniel had sent. "I'm so sorry, Johanna."

"You definitely owe me an explanation," I corrected him, "but you don't have to be sorry. I'm glad I went with you tonight."

He came right back with a heart-wrenching "I'm glad you're here."

I thought back to all the faces I'd seen at the carnival. Nathaniel knew everybody there, but did any of them really know him? He didn't seem particularly attached to any one of them in particular—except maybe Candace, but she was otherwise occupied.

…And Melody, but now she probably hates him.

Nathaniel must have been so lonely. If I could help him stave off that loneliness, even just for the summer, I would.

"I'm glad to be here," I answered. "Good night, Nathaniel. I'll text you tomorrow."