Freaks and Fortune

Dust swirled around my feet as I raced towards Cal. He was a lone figure in the distance, standing straight as a ruler on the side of the dirt road. His suitcase was at his feet.

"Cal," I panted once I had finally reached him. "Cal, come back inside."
“Did they tell you to do this?” he demanded, scowling weakly.
“N-No. They told me not to-”
“Look, Ivy,” he sighed, getting right to the point. “Just leave me alone.”
"Cal, come on!" I pleaded. "Don't waste your time with this... Please..."
"You don't understand. He's coming this time."
"What makes you so sure?" I demanded, my voice breaking.

He turned away from me, facing up the road. I pulled on his shoulder.

"Cal!"

He took a step away from me, never taking his eyes off the road – as if he were afraid of missing something. I muttered something about coming back to check on him when my shift was over, turned, and ambled back to the cabin.

Savannah had draped herself over Aqua, sniffling into the crook of his neck. He sighed as I entered the room.

"I tried to warn you," he said. "He's stubborn."
"Shut up," I murmured.

He shrugged and continued calming Savannah.

"I mean, I don't like him, but I still like him!" she babbled thickly. "I don't want to see him hurt again... Ugh! I just want to shake him sometimes!

The rest of the day seemed to be dry. I was distracted and hurt, wondering for a split second if Cal really had left. The thought left me slightly panicked and, during my break, I took off full speed towards the dirt road.

The Circus grounds were dusty and busy, I ran head-long into Ravi, who began yelling at me. I ignored him and sprinted away.

"Ivy!" he called after me, wearing his Ravi-scowl. "Ivy, watch where you’re going! Are you kidding me? Apologize, at least!"

Dust blew into my eyes as I ran. I saw Cal standing by the road, right where I’d left him, about a quarter-mile away. I was clutching a stitch in my side by the time I was able to reach him.

"Cal," I wheezed. "I thought... I kept thinking you... would…"
He said nothing, staring up the road.

It had been hours since I'd last talked to him. The happiness and hope that had pushed a spring into his step had been wrung out of him. The sun was spreading heat waves along the horizon that looked like pools of water. The sky was orange. The air was thick.

There was a numbness in the atmosphere. It was a sort of static that pricked the hairs on the back of my neck, as if lightning had just struck nearby. I caught my breath after a short while and spoke.

"I was worried," I told him, trying to find what he was looking at in the distance. "I thought you would have left by now... or... something."

There was a brief silence in which Cal continued to stare up the road. He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. I saw a muscle twitch in his cheek. It was then that he screwed up him face, sucked in a deep breath, and let it out in a frustrated, ragged scream. I gasped and stepped back, closing my eyes against a sudden heat wave that seemed to radiate from him. He clenched his fists into knots, gathering up the fabric of his jeans in his fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open in a wide square of tension.

The scream broke and collapsed, the sound echoing in my ears but dying in the dense heat.

"Cal, what...?" I asked, quietly terrified. I trailed off, unable to finish the question. My skin felt soft and fine. My hair was raised unnaturally.

He crumpled onto the ground and I hastily stepped toward him, only to stop when I caught a glimpse of the dark look on his face. He covered his head with his arms, pushed his face into his knees and was silent. He didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, he didn’t speak.

I abandoned modesty and scrambled towards him in my tiny Kissing Booth dress. I began panicking. I had never comforted a fellow human being before. I knew what I had seen in movies, and what I'd read in books but, beyond the horrid clichés, I knew nothing. So I did what I felt was right.

I moved in from of him, took his shoulders and said, "Cal."

It wasn't much, but it seemed to be what he wanted to hear. Just another person acknowledging his existence.

"He's not coming," he muttered darkly, his voice muffled.
I said nothing, failing to think of anything comforting.
"He's never going to come."
"That's not-"
"Don't lie," he interrupted sharply. "It's true."

I hesitated.

"It's not your fault."

Cal raised his head from underneath his arms and pushed his long hair out of his eyes. His face was bright red, but dry. A breeze kicked up a light dust and swirled it over our heads.

"I'm an idiot," he said, avoiding my eyes. "I'm stupid."

I sucked in a breath through my nose, reeled back, and smacked him as hard as I could across the face.

"Don't you ever say that!" I hissed, snatching the collar of his jacket.
Cal looked stunned. For a moment, I expected him to grin and say something like, “Do it again, babe.” A splotch of pink was glowing on his cheek.

"The only stupid person I know is your – your father," I continued, stuttering through my anger. "He's the stupid one. He's stupid for leaving you behind, he's stupid for not being able to see that you're a good person!"

"I'm not good, babe," he scoffed, giving me a steely glare. "You're the only one who’s ever said that to me. And, even if you really do mean it, you're wrong."

I gave him a nice hard shake, digging my nails into the leather collar of his jacket.

"You are good," I told him. "You are good and I'm not the only one who thinks so and I am not wrong."
“Hit me again,” he challenged quietly. “You know you’re lying. All you want to do it hit me again.”
“You’re so stubborn, Cal!”
“Hit me.”
“I don’t want to hit you!”
“Hit me!”
“Shut up!”

He leapt to his feet, his ears red and his eyes narrowed dangerously. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up after him.

“Get up, Ivy!” he yelled, almost mocking me. “Get up and tell me I’m good now!”
"Stop being a child!"

He spread his feet into a power-stance, holding his arms out. I looked around me in hopes of someone approaching and saving me from this unstable argument. No such luck. I was alone and I didn’t quite know how to be brave in this situation.

“Go on,” he urged. “Do it.”

I didn't hit him, but I did shove. I pushed him backwards with all my might and he only stumbled a few steps. Shocked and caught off guard, he countered by pushing me back. I faltered and almost fell but recovered at the last moment.

I recovered balance and charged back at Cal. His face was set in a grim frown.

"Come on, come on, come on!" he chanted under his breath.

I slammed into him and, this time, he stumbled backwards and fell over his suitcase. He landed on his back in the dirt and I crash-landed on top of him. My chin banged into his chest so hard that my teeth cut into my tongue. I tasted the salt of blood. He pushed me off and got up quickly, gathering his suitcase. I scrambled to my feet and gave him another shove while his back was turned.

He stumbled forward and whorled around. His face was seething, burning mad. I moved to push on his chest, but he caught my wrists and held them calmly.

His face was angry, his eyebrows knitted together, but his eyes were serene.

“You don’t think I’m a good person,” he accused softly. “Do you?”
“I do!” I protested, my chest tightening with anger. “You piss me off, but Cal! I can’t believe you think so low of yourself!”
“I don’t think anything! It’s you!”
“Why are you blaming me?”
“Not just you... it’s what everyone thinks.”
“What does everyone think, pray tell?” I demanded, wrenching my wrists from his hands. “What’s so awful that you have to-”
“Idiot, clown, drunk.”
“Nobody thinks that.”
“Everyone thinks that. And it’s true.”

He turned away from me and kicked the ground.

“Aqua doesn’t think that. Savannah doesn’t think that.”
“They think I’m a joke, Ivy.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he asked weakly.
“I don’t think you’re a joke.”

A silent minute passed and Cal’s shoulders suddenly drooped. He turned towards me and tripped into his own body weight, pressing his face into my shoulder.

"I'm not," he murmured, his jaw clenched. "I'm not."

I could think of absolutely nothing to say. Struggling for something, anything, I raised a hand and pressed it to the back of his neck. His hands clenched into fists in the sleeves of my shirt and he sank to the ground, bringing me awkwardly with him.

"I’m not a joke, Ivy. Please…”
“I know you’re not, Cal. Trust me.”

He was trembling. He was trying so hard not to break. He clung to my shoulders with a force that scared me. Something choked him, words that he was finding difficult to say.

“It’s not my fault,” he finally managed.
"Cal, of course it isn’t.”
“It’s not my fault.”

As I tightened my arms around him, he seemed to come to his senses. Shocked at what he was doing, he suddenly pushed away from me. I was surprised, and reflexively reached out again. He slapped my hands away.

"What's the matter with you?" I gasped.
"I'm not crying."
"Who the hell cares if you are?" I shouted. "Who the hell cares if you're crying or not?!"

Cal looked at me with a heart-wrenching mixture of tortured sadness and utter confusion. My breath hitched in my throat and I pressed my lips together to keep from saying anything. Slowly, his eyes welled up and he started to cry. He hung his head and pressed he heel of his hand at the corner of his eye.

“Cal, please,” I began, not really thinking about what I was going to say. “Come on.”

He allowed himself to fall to the ground again and scuffed his way toward me. He reached out and I wrapped my arms around him, wincing as he dug his fingers into my back.

"Calvin," I said softly. "Cal, it’s okay."
"It's not my fault!" he sobbed. “I’m… He blames me…”
I paused. I had previously thought he was upset about the fact that his father hadn’t shown. But I now knew he was talking about something deeper. “Of course it’s not,” I said, still unaware.
"I didn't do it, I really didn't."
"Calvin..."
"I didn't start it," he protested. "It was from his cigarette!"

I could feel his tears soaking into my shirt. One ran down my collarbone, another down my back. He squeezed me so hard... It was almost as if I was the gravity center. If he let go, he'd be gone.

"I was ten!" he protested. "I had complete control... I didn't start it."
"I... I don't..."
"He was on the couch," he told me, his voice shaking from the effort he was putting forth. "He was smoking a cigarette."

Then I got it. Cal's father had started the fire by accident.

"He blamed me," he mumbled, quieting. "He said I didn’t love her.”
I pulled him closer to me, confused and upset.
"And then he left me," he said tearfully. “He called me a freak. He called me a sideshow freak.”

I felt his arms tighten painfully around me.

“I loved her, Ivy.”
“I believe you.”
“Ivy,” he said, choked now by dry, empty hitches in his breath. “Ivy, my own father left me…”
“That’s not your fault either, Cal.”

He held his breath, refusing to let himself move. The tears stopped abruptly. The shaking continued, but that couldn't be helped - it was a reflex.

“Why do I still want him to come back?” It was a quiet question, one that I was sure he’d only asked in the deepest, most secret part of his mind.
“Because he’s your father and you still love him.”
“I hate him.”
“You don’t. You’re a good person, Calvin. Hate doesn’t sit well with you.”

He was desperately trying to get himself under control. His stomach heaved a couple of times, and his fingers dug deeper into my back until, finally, he let out a weary breath and pushed away from me.

There was silence.

"I'm not crying," he finally whispered.
"I know."

I stood.

"G’bye, Ivy."
"Bye."
“Hey…”
“Yeah?”
“Uh… Thanks, babe.”

I nodded, smiled, and left.