But now it was unpleasant, making Gracie’s skin prickle.
During the day, the squeaking was kinda funny, and kids turned the thing faster and faster to get the pitch even higher. The only sound was the occasional squeak from the merry-go-round. There were only two street lights, and the playground equipment cast eerie, long shadows. Seeing the playground at night was a whole different story. Sometimes sharing Skittles, or Reese’s, or (once Abby’s mother forbade her to eat candy every day) apples. When they grew up, they’d still hang out there, talking about school, music, boys, books, whatever. Regardless, they’d played here for hours when they were smaller, swinging on the swings, sliding down and climbing up the slide, even though you were supposed to use the ladder. Abby claimed they’d met for the first time on the merry-go-round, though Gracie was pretty sure they’d actually met in school, during lunch. Abby and Gracie had spent many afternoons in this playground. She looked around her, hugging herself the swing rocked them both. The least Gracie could do was come with her to meet Noel. She was always supportive about Gracie’s music.Ībby was an amazing friend. Moreno caught them cheating, even though it was Gracie’s fault.
Last year, in fifth grade, she’d taken the blame when Mrs. Abby had stood up to Tara and her friends when they bullied Gracie about her clothes. But she’d promised Abby, and… well, Abby had always been there for her. Neither Gracie nor Abby were allowed to go out this late on a school night, and if Gracie’s parents found out she wasn’t home, they’d kill her. Gracie wished they’d met during the afternoon, instead of the evening. She was relieved to leave the festivities behind them, as they turned toward the playground on Babel Lane, where Abby and Noel had agreed to meet. Gracie hoped she’d never grow up to be so disgusting. A few minutes later, a hugging couple zigzagged their way past her, the guy’s hand in the girl’s pants. Gracie saw one man throwing up on the corner of a building. The streets were rife with drunken grownups laughing and hollering. “I don’t think he’s coming, Abby,” she said.Ībby checked her phone. Gracie exhaled, her breath clouding in the crisp night air. The swingset was a bit rusty, its yellow paint peeling to reveal a blackened metallic tinge underneath. Instead, she sat on the double-sided swing, Abby in front of her. Gracie Durham stared at it, shivering in the cold, wishing she was home in her warm bed. The merry-go-round turned slowly in the chilly wind, emitting a high-pitched squeak in the dark playground. Web of Fear Copyright © 2016 by Mike OmerĬover art Copyright © 2016 by Deranged Doctor Design
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