“Stop worrying, Carrie. I promise it’ll be fun.”
The moon is waxing enough that you can see his entire face. Thomas looks into your eyes reassuringly. Why couldn’t you two just hang out at your house like your mom asked you to?
“This was our hangout spot last year before the seniors got caught and almost didn’t graduate. It wasn’t fun and games anymore after that. But no one’s around tonight. Everyone’s in Crossley.”
You sigh. You look down at your feet again and hear the squish of the mud between your toes. When you look up again, you make contact with a pair of eyes in the distance. The owl turns its head and hoots.
*
You continue to walk along the river, watching the gypsies come closer to view. One of the women humming a familiar tune, and one swaying her body back and forth. You have this feeling in your stomach, like something is off. The grey-haired lady opens the bottle that she was shaking, and puts her hand out with it. You reach for it slowly, regretting every inch of movement.
“Carrie, just do it!” Thomas whispers.
You take a sip. It’s not bad, you think. Just a little bitter. Thomas hands her 50 cents and takes the bottle.
*
The grass is moist from the rain earlier that day. You can feel the water seeping through your skirt, but not enough to have to get up. You look up at the stars, and watch them spin. It’s a weird feeling, you think. You look over at Thomas, who is intrigued by the stars as well. He rolls the empty bottle over to you.
“Carrie,” he says slowly, “I just...I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. Allllll of everything you do. You make me feel fun. I’m having fun!”
You smile. Instantly, you feel your stomach bubbling and your smile immediately turns into a blank stare. You look at Thomas again and this time he looks like he is swaying back and forth. It didn’t seem right. Is it just your eyes?
“God damnit,” he yells, voice echoing in the silence. “We have school tomorrow!”
He hiccups. You forget about the queasy feeling and begin to laugh. You shut your eyes as your laughters, combined, fills the campus, the dizziness making you lie down.
“Thomas! It’s our last day of summer! We gotta do something. Get up!”
You lift yourself up off the wet grass, almost making yourself falling back down. He does the same. He smiles at you and hiccups.
“I’m gunna join the rifling club this year. My dad said he’ll buy me a gun if I learn how to use one,” Thomas says. He is talking a little louder than necessary.
“My dad has one! He doesn’t let me touch it though,” you say. It wasn’t fair, you think. Thomas gets a gun and you aren’t even allowed to touch one. Suddenly, Thomas’ eyes light up as he arouses an idea.
“Carrie!! I know what we’re gunna do tonight. I can show you how to use a gun!”
*
You know where the gun is, but you have never actually seen it. The butterflies left your stomach, sometime after you finished the bottle. Thomas opens the front door to your house. He stumbles into the hallway as your dog comes bursting out, running between your legs to get some fresh air. Footsteps echo through the hallway.
“Carrie! I thought you were going to be home earlier! I’m about to put the kids to bed, come on up, honey,” Mom calls from the stairs.
“In a few minutes, Mom! I’m just grabbing a glass of water for Thomas.”
You tiptoe past the study where you see Dad writing something in a bound leather notebook. You decide to wait to say hello to him until after Thomas leaves. You take Thomas by the hand and walk him down the staircase to the basement. The floorboards creak as you leave muddy footprints on the wooden stairs. You reach over to flip on the light switch as Thomas grabs your hand.
“Leave it off. Your parents won’t be happy if we’re down here,” Thomas whispers in your ear. He hiccups.
He’s right. You feel the cold concrete walls, guiding you to the corner of the room.
“Here,” you say. “You take it. I don’t want to touch it.”
Thomas lifts off the dirty rag, uncovering the shotgun. He sticks it under his rain jacket, which crinkles loudly as he tries to zip it back up. He takes back your hand and you tiptoe upstairs to the main floor. You begin to open the front door.
“Bye, Mrs. Speer!” Thomas yells up the stairwell.
She peeks her head over the railing. A light smile on her face.
“Goodluck tomorrow, Thomas. Let us know how your classes go!”
She waves and turns around. Her nightgown flowing as she walks back up the stairs. You open the door for Thomas, and he tiptoes out behind you.
*
Thomas leads you behind a tree next to your house. You look around at the red and gold leaves shimmering in the moonlight. He unzips his jacket and pulls out the shotgun. You watch him pick up the gun by the trigger mechanism, and a shiver runs down your neck to the bottom of your spine, every vertebrae popping with goosebumps. He looks into your eyes which are bulging with fear. Did you need more alcohol?
“Calm down, kid. Now look around. Let me know as soon as you see a squirrel so I can show you how it’s done,” Thomas says. He looked calm, it was reassuring.
Your eyes begin to shrink down into their normal size. You look around. You see your father through the window, shuffling through the books on his bookshelf. Suddenly, a squirrel pops its head out from behind a tree branch and you grab the contraption from Thomas’ clammy hands, holding it close to you. Your dog begins to whimper.
“Hold it like this,” Thomas says, shifting the gun so that your finger rests on the cold metal piece. You point it towards the tree. Your goosebumps go away.
The night sky is serene. The owl stops singing. Your dog stops whimpering. Thomas hiccups. You begin to laugh again, thinking about his drunk hiccups. The motion pushes your index finger towards the trigger. You look up just as the glass window breaks and you hear your father in agony.
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