"Everything is going as perfectly as planned," Greta declared proudly, clutching her clipboard to her chest.
I nodded my head, looking around the crowded parking lot of Edman High. It was as if everyone in town had descended upon the school for the fair.
There were booths set up all over the place; most were run by local vendors, while others featuring carnival-inspired games were overseen by a combination of students and teachers. Several large tents had been set up with space warmers for people to use to rest and eat. Some of the workers were still working on the sound system atop the stage that had been set up in the center of the fair, but it was otherwise ready to go for the talent show later in the day.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," McKenzie said waving his hand dismissively. "You were in charge of organizing this and on that front, I'd say: Mission accomplished. Now let the teachers handle things from here and let's go have some fun!"
Greta bit her bottom lip. "I don't know..."
"Did you learn nothing from your nightmares, Greta?" McKenzie asked. "All work and no play makes Greta a crazy, crazy girl."
"I really wish you'd be more careful of what you say in public," I said warningly, not that McKenzie was listening.
"Maybe you're right," Greta said, visibly torn over this. "What do you think, Boone?" Greta turned to the fourth member of our team, who had his back turned to us, his head darting in every direction, clearly agitated by all the people.
Hearing his name, Boone turned to consider Greta for a moment. "I'm hungry." He said, before returning to scanning the crowds for...whatever it was he was looking for.
"See! Even Boone thinks you need to kick back," McKenzie said grinning ear-to-ear.
I wasn't sure how he took what little Boone had said as him full-heartedly agreeing with him, but I was just glad that McKenzie was back in such high spirits. After the disaster that was the capture the flag game, I had been sure he'd be down in the dumps for at least the next month. I had even been worried that McKenzie might refuse to speak to me, something that if things were normal I might be happy about, but seeing as things were anything but normal, that was not an option.
Thankfully, though, McKenzie fully accepted my reason for getting distracted during the game. Mostly because it involved a cute girl. I might have had to smudge some details and exaggerate a bit, but it was all for the greater good. Though, I was now growing increasingly concerned about the mischievous smiles and winks that McKenzie kept throwing my way.
With that excuse absolving me of any blame, McKenzie had instead shifted his ire onto the rest of our teammates, who McKenzie claimed only lasted a few minutes into the game because they hadn't followed his well-thought-out game plan. Hearing that also made me feel slightly better, because even if I had been able to guard the flag longer, I wasn't a firm believer in McKenzie and Boone's chances to win the game by themselves.
"Okay, okay," Greta said, after listening to McKenzie's pathetic pleas for several minutes. "But I'm supposed to be judging the talent show, so I need to be back in..." Greta checked her watch. "One hour and twenty-five minutes."
McKenzie put his hands behind his head and beamed happily. "Then we better get going. Lead the way, Aaron!"
The timing for McKenzie's order could not have come at a worse time. Just as I made a move to turn around, I bumped right into Italia Galloway. Caught completely off-guard, she bounced off me and would've fallen to the ground if not for my quick instincts to grab ahold of her flaying hands to steady her.
No one said anything; Italia just stared at me with a horrified look on her face, seemingly in shock that someone actually had the nerve to touch her. I quickly released my hold of her hands once I was certain she wasn't in jeopardy of falling over anymore, and waited for the tirade I knew she was going to unleash on me. While I wasn't necessary checking her out on purpose, I did notice she was dressed in a crisp and neatly ironed black and red cheerleading outfit and had her hair pushed back with a hair band. And, as much I hated to admit it, she did look pretty good.
"Don't ever touch me again, you hick." She scolded me like she thought this had been some elaborate scheme on my part.
"Sorry," I muttered, wanting more than anything to just move on and not bring anymore unneeded drama into my life.
"Don't apologize to her, Aaron," Greta interjected, thereby ruining any chance I had of not blowing this up into a bigger deal then it already was. "She bumped into you. If anything, she should apologize for not looking where she's walking."
"Oh, have you gotten yourself a girlfriend," Italia said, shifting her glare onto Greta. She then sniffled and held her nose up high. "Personally, I thought you'd be able to do a little better, but I guess you have to take what you can get."
The look of pure anger on Greta's face terrified even me slightly, though Italia just smiled maliciously. It was a good thing for Italia's sake that Greta could not get her hands on that stun gun she used in her dream. Then again, she did still have a clipboard in hands.
"What did you say?" Greta practically growled.
"Did I stutter?" Italia asked mockingly.
"How dare you speak to us like that! Don't think I'll forget about this when you're up on stage."
I was surprised by Greta's behavior; I thought she was too "responsible" to threaten a participant in the talent show that she was supposed to be helping judge. And going by Italia's reaction, she was also surprised; her facial expressions reverting to a glare, she folded her arms cross her chest.
I also noticed that Greta didn't deny Italia's statement that we were dating. It wasn't that I cared what Italia thought, but I really didn't want something like that going around school. I looked over to McKenzie to see if he would attempt to deny it-I was pretty sure McKenzie would want a rumor like that spreading even less then I would-but unfortunately my wimpy cousin had taken to crouching behind Boone in a vain attempt at pretending to be invisible. Boone, on the other hand, was looking less unnerved than he had the entire day and more like his usual bored-self, which might have something to do with the fact that everyone passing by were now giving us a wide berth, possibly to avoid getting caught between the fierce staring match going on between Italia and Greta.
"You better watch yourself, Evans," Italia finally said, after what felt like an eternity of silence. "One word from me and I can get my father to rescind those laptops he so graciously donated."
This threat didn't even faze Greta, "Like I care? Unlike everyone else in this town, I can see what a sham your father is. Just because he throws around money he thinks can do whatever he wants and everyone will just give him a pass. But I'll tell you one thing, he can't outrun his past forever."
Italia looked completely mortified.
"Speaking of our mayor," I said, trying to cut the tension, "where is he? He's coming, right?" Coming to think of it, I had yet to see the mayor of Edman in the entire two months I had been living in this tiny town.
Italia and Greta's heads twisted so fast that I was sure they would snap their necks; the fury of the looks they gave me were so intense that I had half the mind to go join my cousin in cowering behind Boon.
"I don't have to take this. But, Aaron, I do hope you enjoy my performance. You and the rest of your Losers' Club," Italia said, flipping her hair behind her back, and, after giving Greta one last scowl, she marched back in the direction she came.
Greta kept her eyes trained on Italia until the crowds swallowed her from view; gripping her clipboard so tightly that I could hear it crack. Greta looked absolutely livid; a far cry from her usual self.
"The nerve of some people," Greta glowered; her nostrils once again flaring. "Thinks she walks on water just because she's rich...speaking of which, you three!" Greta spun on the spot and directed her icy, cold glare onto us.
McKenzie, who had come out of hiding to ogle Italia as she walked away, gulped and began inching back behind Boone. I could only lament at how terrible this day was already becoming.
"You truly are an unimpressive specimen of the human race, you know that, McKenzie?" Greta shook her head dismissively at McKenzie before turning towards me. "And don't even get me started on you, Aaron." She sighed. "Sometimes I think you are all looks and no brains. I mean, flirting with Italia right after she insulted the both of us? Do you have no pride?"
"I wasn't flirting," I said defensively.
"And you!" Greta set herself on Boone, but paused when she realized he was beginning to sweat despite the cool weather and was frantically tugging on the color of his tracksuit jacket. "Seriously, what's wrong with you? You've been on the verge of throwing a fit the entire day."
"It's the crowds," McKenzie said hastily, obviously eager to jump on his chance to change the subject. "In his Nightmares, we learned he hates being in crowded places.
"Oh! I have an idea. How about Aaron and Boone go find somewhere less crowded to sit, while we go get us some food? Cool? Cool!"
McKenzie grabbed Greta by the hand and dragged her towards a food stall before anyone could even think of shutting down his 'idea,' which I was perfectly fine with. The two of them were severely annoying me to the point that I was glad to have some time apart. Nothing against McKenzie and Greta, but I could only handle so much of their antics. Why couldn't they be more like Boone? I looked back at my quiet friend and saw that Boone's eyes were still darting in every direction. Okay, maybe not too much like Boone.
I remembered seeing some empty picnic tables on the edge of the fair when I first arrived with the rest of the Cooke family. I also remembered the look of astonishment on Aunt Katherine's face when McKenzie told her that we were going to go meet up with some friends that she eagerly gave him some extra cash.
Heading in the direction of the picnic tables, Boone followed me without a word. The further we moved towards the outskirts of the fair, the thinner the crowds and more relaxed Boone became.
Near the picnic tables we passed Bill, who had setup a booth of his own and was selling t-shirts plastered with his face on them and the words 'Ye Old Drug Store' in a bold mustard font.
"Hey, if it isn't some of my favorite customers." Bill said, rising to his feet as he spotted us. I was startled to see that he was wearing one of the very shirts he was selling.
"Hi, Bill. How's it going?" I asked.
"Not good. I haven't made a sale yet, but the day is still young." Bill reached under his stall and a produced a can of soda that he quickly drained. "So how about it, guys? You want your very own Ye Old Drug Store t-shirt?"
"Umm...maybe later," I said, not wanting to tell Bill how I truly felt about the ugly shirts he was vending.
Bill glumly sat back onto his chair, looking awfully upset. I was beginning to have second thoughts, and was contemplating giving the guy a break and buying one-I would never actually wear it, of course-when I noticed someone was watching me.
The person in question was someone I had never seen before; he was a young man who appeared to be somewhere in his early twenties. He had a bit of a stubble on his face and his hair was covered by a blue baseball-cap that he had pulled down over his head. And while his eyes were hidden behind a pair of shaded sunglasses, I could tell that he was definitely looking in my direction.
I studied the man, wondering if I had ever seen him in town before, even if just in passing. But once the man realized that I had taken notice of him, he pulled out a cellphone from his pocket and walked away, typing on it.
"What's the matter, Aaron?" Bill asked. "Are those punks back? Don't worry, I brought my shotgun!"
"No, no, no, it's nothing," I said quickly. I didn't know if Bill would actually pull out a firearm in public, but I definitely didn't want to find out either. "We'll see you later, Bill."
Much like they were earlier in the day, all the picnic tables were vacant, so me and Boone chose one by random and sat down. While we waited for McKenzie and Greta to return, I struggled to keep myself from wondering about the young man and if he was in anyway was connected to the Dream Stalker.
I shook my head in frustration. I couldn't let the Dream Stalker rule my entire life; this day was about having fun and that was what I was going to do. I would return to constantly worrying about the Dream Stalker and his identity tomorrow, when Greta said she would finally let us in on her scheme that would determine if Mr. Dobson was a viable suspect.
When Greta and McKenzie showed up with some food and drinks, Greta at first glance appeared to be in much better spirits, she even had a smile on her face. However, after handing one of the two Styrofoam cups she was carrying to Boone, she offered the second to me, but when I reached for it she pulled it away and placed it on the table while purposely avoiding looking at me.
She was clearly not over the whole Italia-incident, and was now apparently putting the brunt of her frustrations on me and giving me-and only me-the cold shoulder for some reason. The apologetic smiles that McKenzie kept shooting me anytime Greta wasn't looking gave off the strong impression that he was behind this. It was irritating to say the least, but I decided to ignore it-for the moment.
"You know, Italia actually said something very clever," Greta said in-between bites of her rather not-so-tasty-looking artichoke on a stick that she was eating.
"What do you mean?" McKenzie asked, while wiping away the nacho cheese on his face with his hand.
"Well, she called us the Losers' Club, and you know what? That is actually a pretty fitting name for us."
"Uh...I mean...huh?" McKenzie was clearly not so keen on such a demeaning name.
"Think about it. In Stephen King's novel, It, the characters call themselves the Losers' Club because they're all outcasts of some sort or another-just like us. And they also band together and fight evil-just like us."
Greta smiled proudly at her suggestion. The rest of us, though, didn't know how to react. While personally I thought the name more applied to the rest of my companions than it did me, I thought it would be rude to say so aloud.
"How about we call ourselves the Minutemen?" McKenzie finally broke the silence.
"I can't believe this! You're really going to dismiss my suggestion just like that?"
A full-blown debate soon broke out between Greta and McKenzie over the use of the name Losers' Club. At first the argument was quite entertaining, but it eventually became redundant and I decided to put a stop to by shouting, "We do not need a name!"
After that things just became even more awkward. Greta decided that she was going give the silent treatment to me and McKenzie, meaning the only person she wasn't ignoring was Boone, which basically meant she wasn't speaking to anyone.
Finishing our food and drinks in silence, we began to wonder around the fairgrounds, checking out all the booths. McKenzie guilted Boone into paying for everything he wanted by reminding the guy that he had paid for the food and beverages. Among these purchases was one of the t-shirts that Bill was peddling, which McKenzie quickly put on and showed off like it was some sort of badge of honor instead an ugly t-shirt with some fat dude's face on it. We also tried out some of the games that were setup in some of the booths. Needless to say, McKenzie failed miserably at every single game, no matter how many times he tried. While Boone unexplicitly surprised us all by being a master of each and every game he tried.
Greta remained in her funk the entire time, and she soon decided she had to go prepare for that talent show and left us to our own devices. McKenzie was disappointed by this. That was until he noticed something else he was going to force Boone to buy for him.
I reluctantly followed them over to the booth where McKenzie was making his next purchase, when I once again spotted the same young man from earlier; he was leaning against a nearby booth and had his phone out, which he was looking up from every few seconds to glance in my direction.
I studied the man out of the corner of my eye, trying to determine if this was just a coincidence or something more.
"What's the matter, Aaron?" McKenzie asked, now wearing a Native American headdress. "You wish your girlfriend was here, don't you?"
"Who exactly are you referring to? Actually, never mind," I said, realizing I'd rather not know. "I think that guy is following me." I tipped my head towards the man in question.
"He's been following you since you got here," Boone said nonchalantly, while counting the cash he had left in his wallet.
I did quick double-take, unsure if I had heard Boone correctly. "What do you mean he's been following me since I got here?
"That he's been following you since you got here." Boone repeated.
"Why didn't you say something about this earlier?"
Boone simply shrugged.
I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but I was going to find out. I planned on walking up to the man and asking him what his deal was, but once the man saw me approaching, a look of alarm spread across his face and he took off. Being the kind of guy who doesn't give up easily, I gave chase.
The man seemed dead-set on not getting caught. He plowed through anyone who got in his way and kept intentionally dodging around stalls and other obstacles. I, however, kept on him. I was not going to lose track of this new stalker, no matter what.
Thoughts bubbled into my mind as I ran. Why was this man following me and why was he so quick to flee? Did he have some sort of connection to the World-Between Dreams? Was he the Dream Stalker, himself? Or maybe he was just a spy sent by Principal Peterson to make sure I wasn't peddling drugs during the school faire. Whatever the case, I was determined to catch the man and get the answers from him personally.
The man was quite fast but I was faster, and I was continually gaining ground on him. It wouldn't be long before I would be close enough to tackle him.
The chase soon took us towards the center of the fairground and the large stage set up there. Someone began shouting and others took up the call. At first I thought they had caught sight of my pursuit of this mysterious man, but that was not the case. A large crowd began to form up near the stage. The people, who were clearly excited about something-surely not the talent show?-began to pack together closely.
The man slipped around the crowd only seconds before it grew so large that the people began overflowing into the designated pathway between the stage and the line of booths across from it. Left with no other choice, I plunged into the thick of things and attempted to make my way through the mass of humanity.
It was a slow-moving process. The direction I wanted to head in was the same as the crowd, which meant that the people were not very accepting of my efforts to push past them, and I had to put up with stiff competition from others who were trying to position themselves at the front of the crowd.
The push and pull of the throng was so intense that I lost sight of the man I was pursuing. Straining my neck to look over and around the people surrounding me, I briefly spotted the man disappearing around the bend of the booth lines. Dejected that I was not going to discover who this man was and why he was following me, I allowed myself to become entangled with the people around me.
Curious as to what sparked this rush from the crowd that had prevented me from catching the man, I noticed that the black limousine which had nearly ran me over on my first day at Edman High had pulled into the fairgrounds. The driver of the limo leaned against his vehicle, his eyes intently fixated on a tall man in his fifties who was walking alongside the crowd, shaking hands and chatting with the people gathered at the front.
It didn't matter that the people around me were excitedly chattering this man's name, I would have recognized him immediately even though I had never seen him before in my life. He had jet black hair-that he very clearly dyed-and was dressed smartly in a well-fitted suit. Despite the broad smile on his face, the look in his eyes was that of a resolute and calculating individual. A woman who had to be more than ten years the man's junior but with equally as dark hair was draped around his arm, relishing in all the attention, while two much larger men, who were also dressed in matching suits, flanked them.
The man and his small entourage began to make their way to the front of the stage, where chairs had been set up for spectators to watch the talent show and Spirit Week champion's coronation. Obviously, the man had come to watch his daughter's performance. Boone's father emerged from a nearby tent and met the man halfway, the two began chattering cheerfully as they continued walking.
The crowd began to push forward to follow the man, allowing me to find an escape from the horde through the back. Unlike them, I was not so enthusiastic at the prospects of getting a better look at or a chance to speak with Italia's father, the former U.S senator and popular benefactor of Edman, Montana, the esteemed Mayor Galloway.