The next morning was bright and totally restless—the kind of perfect day you'd expect for an amusement park trip. But Andrew woke up with a dead weight the sunlight couldn't touch. Grace's voice from yesterday was stuck on repeat: At home, everything's falling apart.
He desperately wanted to ask her about it, to tell her he'd heard and that he got it, but he was completely paralyzed by fear. What if she got mad? What if she just slammed the door on him? So he got dressed, shoved the diary into his backpack, and told himself the day was just about hanging out.
At the amusement park entrance, Ryan was already buzzing, practically vibrating with energy. "There he is!" he yelled when I showed up. "I thought you totally chickened out."
I rolled my eyes. "I said I'd come."
"Promises are only good when you show up," Ryan shot back, grinning.
Grace arrived next, her ponytail swinging, a smile so genuine it almost wiped away the memory of yesterday. Almost.She waved, and the knot in my chest loosened a fraction.
Sophia was last, holding a small bag. She glanced at me, her eyes lingering just a second too long before she quickly adjusted her sleeve.
"Alright," Ryan clapped his hands. "First stop: the biggest, baddest roller coaster!"
"Of course you'd say that," Sophia muttered.
Grace laughed. "I'm good with it." She looked at me. "You?"
My stomach did a tight flip at the thought of being flung around on those steel rails, but with her eyes on me, warm and encouraging, I nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
The roller coaster was a massive wall of steel and screaming passengers. Strapped in, Ryan let out a whoop like a five-year-old.
"This is going to be amazing, man."
Sophia gripped the safety bar so hard her knuckles were white. "If I die, I'm haunting you first."
"You promise?" Ryan smirked.
I sat stiffly until I felt Grace's hand briefly brush mine—just a second, a quiet grounding touch. I turned, caught her faint smile, and actually managed to relax.
The ride exploded to life. Wind hammered our faces, the world dissolving into streaks of color. Ryan screamed with pure joy, Sophia shrieked but was half-laughing, and Grace's loud yelp beside me actually yanked a surprised laugh out of my chest.
When we stumbled out, Ryan was staggering, his hair sticking straight up. "Best. Ride. Ever."
"You're certifiable," Sophia huffed, her face flushed pink.
Grace brushed loose hair out of her eyes, which were absolutely shining, and looked at me. "See? Not that bad."
"Yeah," I admitted, still catching my breath. "It wasn't that bad."
The day blended into a rush of color and noise. Cheesy music blasted from hidden speakers, mixing with the sickeningly sweet scent of popcorn and deep-fried everything. Balloons drifted over kids' heads; vendors hawked cheap plastic toys. Everywhere I looked, lights flashed in a frantic, dizzying display, like the park itself was wired on pure sugar.
We bounced from massive rides to tiny booths, inhaling overly salted fries and cotton candy that stuck to our teeth. Ryan was spectacular at losing the carnival games but somehow managed to win this pathetic, lopsided stuffed rabbit, which he presented to Sophia with a mock bow.
She rolled her eyes but hugged the rabbit, a small, genuine smile playing on her mouth.
Later, sharing sugary churros on a bench, she subtly pushed the last piece toward me.
"You take it," she said softly.
"You sure?"
"Yeah." Her gaze held mine a moment too long.
I took the piece, forcing a thank you smile, but a familiar unease flickered inside me. The way she stared, that quiet softness—it just felt off.
Grace, meanwhile, was pure infectious joy. Her laughter soared over the park noise, and she dragged us from ride to ride with a kind of bright, relentless energy. She even convinced me to go on the spinning teacups, and while I nearly vomited stumbling out, her giggles at my clumsy stumble made it almost worth it.
I smiled back, cracked a few jokes, and actually laughed once or twice. But every so often, the thought of what I'd overheard slammed back into my mind: At home, everything's falling apart.
Why the hell hadn't she told me? Was she protecting me, or did she just not trust me enough with her storm?
And always, beneath the noise, the diary's prophecy hammered at me: If you follow what's written here, you might save her. If you ignore it… I've already lived with that mistake. You don't want to.
Save her. From what?
As the sky deepened, the Ferris wheel lit up, a giant, slow-moving halo against the twilight. The line was long, but no one cared; the cool evening air was a welcome break from the afternoon's heat.
"One last ride before we bail," Ryan announced, pointing up. "Perfect ending."
We naturally split into pairs—Ryan with Sophia, and me with Grace. The gondolas creaked as we climbed in.
The city was spectacular below, a wash of golden and violet light. Streetlights twinkled like a million fallen stars. Grace leaned against the window, her face bathed in the colored light, looking so peaceful that for a second, I forgot all about the hidden chaos. I wanted to tell her I knew, to tell her I was there for whatever she needed, but I couldn't get the words out. I just offered a faint smile, hiding my questions.
The gondola swayed gently as we climbed higher, the park's noise fading into a quiet hum. For a moment, we were completely isolated, floating between the earth and the night sky.
Halfway up, as we rocked gently at the apex, Grace shifted in her seat. Her sleeve rode up just enough to expose her forearm. There was a mark—dark, jagged, stark against her skin.
My breath caught in my throat.
It wasn't a scratch from a ride. It wasn't a casual bruise. It looked old, half-faded, but still raw enough to make my stomach turn.
I leaned in, the words urgent and low. "Grace… where did you get that mark?"
Her whole body instantly went rigid.
The Ferris wheel groaned, inching higher into the night, lights flashing across her face, but she didn't answer. My question hung there, huge and heavy, the silence louder than all the screaming rides below combined.