Dad and I went out and did fun stuff together Saturday. It was weird, like we were a real family again. It wasn't the same as when Mom was here, but it was nice. Just … weird. Neither of us really had any idea what to say, but fortunately, Dad had picked activities where either we couldn't talk or our mouths were full. No, I wouldn't call it evasion... more like 'baby steps'. We needed to ease into talking and doing things together. I'm sure we'll be socializing just like normal people within six months, easy. A year, tops...
Anyway, lunch was good. We went to Chops & Hops and just got unlimited trips to their awesome salad bar. Delicious, healthy, and no awkward period waiting to order or for our food to come where we might feel pressured to talk. Look, we did talk a bit, but at our own pace. Dad asked me about computer stuff, I answered, he tried to follow along, and when he got hopelessly lost, he quickly finished what was on his plate and escaped back to the salad bar. Brilliant choice for lunch!
After that, we caught Jurassic Park at the theatre that showed classic movies for cheap. We'd both seen it before, but it was still great, and we got to have fun together without being forced to talk. Remember, baby steps. Finally, we hit the fancy frozen yogurt place near the cheap 'Spring Break' end of boardwalk. Dad mixed a few fruit flavors and threw some toppings on them, then stared in horrified fascination as I created my monstrosipiece. Eighteen flavors, each complementary in some way with its neighbors, and each dusted with fine graham cracker crumbs to prevent excessive fraternization, combined with twelve dry and four wet toppings, every one strategically added between layers of flavors, not just heaped on top like some newb would do it.
"Do you get your picture on the wall if you finish that?" he asked as I sat down at the table with my creation.
"Very funny. Hang on, I need to get some napkins. It shouldn't attack if you don't make any sudden movements."
"Hurry back!" he urged, and the way he cowered from my yogurt was too much and we both burst out laughing. For the next few minutes, every time we almost stopped laughing, something would set us off again, until finally we managed to regain control of ourselves.
"My stomach hurts," I groaned.
"If you think it hurts now, just wait until you eat that."
"Don't make me laugh again! Besides, the cold will numb my poor, abused muscles." And before anything else could get me started again, I dug in. And dug, and dug, and dug… Oh, my God, what was I thinking? "Hey, Dad, want to try some? Stop laughing! Just … have some, ok?"
"I said I'd be there for you if you needed me," sighed Dad as he helped me vanquish my terrible yet delicious creation.
Eventually, we emerged victorious and sat there in sugar rush hazes as we digested. At least until a faint buzzing came from Dad's pocket and he pulled out his phone. Yes, he agreed to get one too―after all, what if he needed help in an emergency or I needed to get in touch with him? As he pulled it open and answered, I suppressed a sigh. Yes, Dad has a flip phone. Don't worry, I have no doubt I'll be able to get him to upgrade to a smartphone. It shouldn't take more than five years, ten at the outside, and then he'll be One Of Us, moments of quiet contemplation replaced by watching cat videos or tapping away at Candy Crunch and Floppy Bat.
"Sorry, Taylor," he said as he flipped his phone shut, "but I have to go in to work―someone set off the alarm. Don't worry, if the police aren't there, I'll wait for them." He brightened, no doubt at the thought of our time together getting cut short before it could fall from its high note and asked, "Do you want to stay here or have me give you a lift to the bus stop? Or come with me, if you really want," he added dubiously.
"I'll stay here. Take a last walk on the boardwalk before the scheduled delivery of drunk college students."
"All right. I'll see you at home."
He left, and about half an hour later, when I felt up to walking around, I got up and headed over to the budget boardwalk. Unlike the original, upscale portion of the boardwalk, this new addition was free of high-end shops, fancy decoration, and enforcers. Instead, it sported lots of bars and clubs, hawkers and cheap souvenir shops, dubious games of skill or chance, and a low budget carnival with things like bumper cars, a Ferris wheel, and a fun house. Oh, and drug dealers, again, unofficially.
I walked around, browsing the t-shirts with stupid things written on them and the cheap souvenirs, feeling smugly superior in the knowledge I was smart enough not to buy any of that crap. Except for a bottle of water, to work on getting my blood sugar level back below the legal limit. The crowds were pretty light, as most locals didn't bother with the budget boardwalk until after Spring Brea―holy crap, was that Madison?!
I made my way after the girl who was either Madison or someone who looked a hell of a lot like her, almost catching up to her before I was forced to go around a large group of loud college students who'd arrived early. I looked around, scanning the crowd, until I finally spotted her going into the house of mirrors. I ran to the entrance, slapped a dollar down on the counter, and rushed in after her.
The sudden change to dim lighting and muffled sound made the maze of mirrors all the more disorienting. I made my way further in, slowing down after bouncing off the first transparent wall, and tried to catch sight of Madison, or even her reflection. I hadn't run into anyone else yet, either; the hall was only really popular with impaired college students. And then, as I rounded a corner, I heard footsteps approaching from somewhere ahead and then I was surrounded by reflections of Madison. I tried to pick out the original but was unable to do more than rule out a couple where smudges made the mirrors obvious.
"I've decided to be especially generous in satisfying your desire to see me, Freak," Madison said with a superior smirk on her many faces. "Is there something more you want, or did you just wish to gaze upon my beauty?"
"I want to know what you were doing at Winslow, Madison! Why were you there?"
"Why, I was there for you, of course. To make you the freak you are today."
I stared at the reflections surrounding me as my heart felt like it had dropped into my stomach at this confirmation of my worst fear. "Why?" I breathed.
Madison's smirk turned nasty. "I have no idea. If you want to know, you'll have to ask my mother."
"Your mother?"
"Oh, allow me to give you a clue."
Madison screamed. A spike of pain pierced my brain and I hunched over, eyes squeezed shut and my arms futilely rising to cover my ears and protect my head. The scream seemed to go on forever, and alongside the pain, it seemed like there was indistinct whispering in my head. I staggered blindly, and the sound of shattering glass surrounded me before I suddenly found myself in blessed silence. I slowly lowered my arms and opened my eyes to find myself alone in a maze of empty mirror frames, the floor covered in broken glass.
I quickly made my way outside and lost myself in the mass of panicked people screaming and running around aimlessly. Despite terrified shouts about the Slaughterhouse Nine, I didn't think for a second that the 'mother' Madison had mentioned was Shatterbird. I really wished I could, though.