CHAPTER 13
October 9. Ten years earlier.
Rick stubbed out the cigarette as he walked and ran a hand through his hair, automatically restoring his usual calm and clarity of mind. What had happened in the maze still lingered somewhere at the edge of his thoughts, but now was not the time for that.
Katie, hooking Steve under one arm and Rick under the other, confidently pulled them forward —farther away from the noise of the fair.
The farther they went, the softer the light became.
At first it was only scattered lights between the trees, but after a few more steps the space suddenly opened up.
At the center of a clearing stood a towering wooden structure built from massive beams. It had not yet been lit, but it already drew the eye — too large, too imposing. An empty space had been left around it, as though giving it room to breathe.
“Is that where the main bonfire will be?” Rick asked without taking his eyes off it.
“Yeah. We just needed to get the best spots first,” Steve replied, shifting the skewers and enormous bag of marshmallows more comfortably in his arms.
He nodded to the side.
Arranged in a circle, mirroring the shape of the central structure, were dozens of smaller bonfires. They were already burning.
Low, neat fires ringed with stones, each surrounded by its own little group of people. Some sat directly on the grass, others in folding chairs. Some laughed, others talked quietly while holding marshmallows over the flames. Every fire was different — some burned high, others smoldered low — but together they created the feeling that the entire clearing was breathing warmth.
“You can see the main bonfire perfectly from there, and...” He shook the marshmallow package slightly. “We’ll be able to roast marshmallows too.”
“Damn,” Katie breathed, looking around. “Don’t tell me everything’s already taken.”
“I told you we were late,” Steve muttered.
“You say that every year,” she immediately shot back, “and every year we still make it!”
“There are more people this year. The festival landed on Columbus Day. You should’ve listened to me.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure...”
Rick only half listened, his attention caught by the string lights overhead.
They stretched across the clearing, disappeared deeper into the pathways, hooked themselves around tree branches, and swayed gently in the wind. Warm yellow light settled softly across faces, grass, and the smoke that drifted upward and dissolved into the darkening sky.
And somehow all of it — the lights, the voices, the laughter, the crackling firewood — merged into one living, breathing sensation.
Rick caught himself smiling.
Warmth spread through his chest.
“...Just admit we’re late and we’ll have to stand in the crowd like everyone else,” drifted over to him.
“No way!” Katie spun around. “We’ll figure something out. I’m always lucky.”
Steve only let out a quiet breath and shook his head.
“You can’t be lucky
all the time.”
“Guys!”
They all turned toward the voice almost simultaneously.
Two guys were sitting beside one of the bonfires. Rick narrowed his eyes, peering closer, and almost
immediately recognized Thomas. Beside him sat Lucas, slightly hunched over.
“I saved us spots!” Tom called, raising a hand.
Katie narrowed her eyes smugly and shot Steve a quick glance.
“So what was that you were saying?”
Steve tactfully said nothing, only rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in acknowledgment of defeat.
They approached the fire. Rick automatically looked around — and Steve had been right. From here there was an excellent view of the entire clearing.
He sat down in one of the open spots and stretched his legs slightly toward the fire. Katie and Steve were still arguing about something, while Tom, apparently long accustomed to it, calmly continued telling Lucas a story without paying much attention.
Steve handed everyone a skewer and a marshmallow.
Rick speared the soft white pillow and held it over the flames.
The fire reached for it immediately — greedy, almost impatient. It licked at the edge, clinging to it, trying to claim it, but Rick kept it just far enough away to prevent it from burning. Close enough only for the sugar to begin melting, slowly darkening beneath a thin golden crust.
The voices around them blended into background noise, drifting in fragments until one emerged more clearly.
“Rick,” Katie called, turning her skewer, “what was your city festival like?”
He looked up.
Several pairs of eyes were genuinely watching him with interest — openly, without tension, as though it were the most ordinary question in the world.
Rick hesitated for a second, as though trying to remember.
“Well...” he drawled awkwardly. “Probably bigger.”
He shrugged. Not much time had passed, and yet it felt as though it belonged to another life.
His gaze wandered over the crowd automatically, not entirely sure what he was looking for, and he let out a quiet laugh.
“There was a fair too. Food courts. A parade almost every year. Everybody came outside. The mayor would make some speech too. I never listened.”
He pulled the marshmallow away from the fire, studying its browned surface.
“Most of the time my friends and I would just leave.”
“Why?” Steve asked around a mouthful of marshmallow.
Rick shifted one shoulder.
“Don’t know. Just... didn’t feel like staying.”
“But you stayed here,” Tom pointed out with satisfaction, still chewing.
“Yeah...” Rick exhaled.
He fell silent for a moment before adding more quietly,
“It’s just different here.”
His fingers carefully peeled away the thin crust, revealing the warm, soft center beneath.
“Worse?” Thomas snorted.
“No.” Rick smirked, popping the marshmallow into his mouth. “Just different. I like it... though the tradition is weird.”
“The notes?” Katie perked up, nudging him with her elbow.
At that moment her phone rang.
“Oh, sorry, one second,” she said, quickly getting to her feet and pulling it from her pocket.
Rick’s gaze caught the screen for a split second.
Mark ❤️“Yeah,” he nodded, returning to the conversation. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”
“Not surprising,” Steve drawled, stretching out more comfortably. “It’s a local superstition. You know our town is relatively young, right?”
Rick thought for a moment.
“If I remember correctly... it was founded by loggers in the late nineteenth century?”
“Exactly.” Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “First there was a camp, then a sawmill, then a logging yard—that’s where the name Dumpfield came from. The tradition started around the same time.”
“Huh...” Rick murmured.
“God, Miller...” Thomas rubbed his temples tiredly. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Steve raised an eyebrow.
“Am I wrong?”
“About everything!” Tom leaned closer, growing animated. “Ask Griffin. He’ll explain it properly.”
Steve and Rick both turned their heads, but Lucas had somehow disappeared.
“I’m not seeing him anywhere,” Steve observed calmly.
“He was right here... a second ago...” Tom scratched the back of his head, then waved it off.
“Whatever. Forget it. Anyway, it started earlier. Much earlier.”
“Don’t remember that,” Steve said, leaning back with his arms crossed.
“Of course you don’t. You skipped history classes. Don’t listen to him, Parker.”
Rick chuckled softly, looking from one to the other.
Tom leaned in closer and lowered his voice, as though he were about to share something not meant for everyone.
“Officially? Sure, late nineteenth century. But before that, this land wasn’t empty. The Salish lived here. For a long time. A very long time.”
The firelight illuminated his face, sharpening the shadows.
“And the bonfire isn’t just a festival thing. They lit it specifically on this night because they believed it was... special. That the boundary between worlds became thinner.”
He paused for a moment, letting the words linger.
“And if you write down a wish and burn it in the coals of the ceremonial fire, the smoke carries it away.”
Rick leaned forward despite himself.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Tom nodded, calmer now. “Like... the spirits will hear it and it’ll definitely come true. But the important thing is that the note has to burn completely.”
At that moment, a wave of noise erupted from the direction of the square.
All three turned toward the applause and cheers.
The main structure had been lit.
Bright flames shot upward almost instantly. Alive, it seemed to reach for the sky, crackling and spreading, casting light far beyond the clearing.
The sight was mesmerizing.
Rick stared without blinking...
And then, without realizing it, his gaze drifted across the crowd again, over the faces around him.
The thought that he still hadn’t found anyone stung unexpectedly, and only a moment later did he realize who he was looking for.
The realization came quietly, almost lazily, which somehow made it even more uncomfortable.
He frowned slightly, feeling warmth rise to his cheeks, looked away, and automatically reached for another marshmallow even though he still hadn’t finished the first one.
Thomas was already arguing with Steve again, waving his skewer around, and Katie still hadn’t come back. Everything looked the same as before, yet Rick suddenly realized he wasn’t fully present in any of it.
He pretended to listen. He even nodded at the right moment. But his gaze wandered off again, catching movement beyond their small circle of light.
And that was when he saw him.
A little farther away, near one of the pathways where the light was softer and the shadows deeper, Aaron stood surrounded by several girls.
Rick didn’t immediately recognize Emma among them. She was laughing, saying something as she twirled a strand of red hair around her finger, while the others chimed in, exchanging glances, clearly trying to keep Aaron’s attention.
Aaron himself looked as though none of it was really happening to him. He stood slightly apart with his hands in his pockets, not pulling away, but not truly engaging either. Occasionally he nodded, offered a brief reply, and almost immediately let his gaze drift elsewhere, as though the conversation simply slid past him.
Rick watched a little longer than he intended.
Something about the scene caught at him harder than it should have. He wasn’t immediately sure what it was — the ease with which they laughed, the confidence with which they closed the distance between them, or the fact that Aaron looked neither annoyed nor interested.
He was simply... standing there.
“...and I told him, that’s not how it works at all,” Tom’s voice reached him.
“Huh?” Rick blinked, returning to the present.
“Are you even listening?” Steve narrowed his eyes.
“Of course,” Rick answered too quickly, then added more calmly, “you said that... it doesn’t work.”
Steve snorted but said nothing, only exchanging a look with Tom.
Rick smirked, as though joking about his own distraction, and lowered his gaze to the marshmallow, which had already begun to burn. He jerked the skewer away from the fire and scraped off the blackened crust with unnecessary force, but for some reason the simple motion irritated him.
Almost without thinking, he looked up again.
This time Aaron wasn’t looking at the girls. His gaze passed over their heads and unexpectedly settled directly on Rick.
Only for a second.
But for some reason, that was enough to make Rick’s heart jump again somewhere beneath his ribs.
Rick looked away sharply, hiding his eyes beneath his wavy fringe as though he’d been caught doing something far too personal.
“Surprised?” Steve asked quietly, leaning closer.
“About what?” Rick didn’t understand.
Steve gave the slightest nod toward Lake.
Rick followed his gaze and immediately shrugged, pretending it had absolutely nothing to do with him.
“What do I care,” he said indifferently, turning back toward the fire. “Let him have his fun.”
The sentence came out far too even, and for some reason that only irritated him more.
He frowned and exhaled sharply through his nose.
“They’ve been chasing after him in packs since kindergarten,” Steve snorted with a shrug. “And when he made the basketball team, it got even worse. Though I think Lake’s used to it by now. That’s why he so rarely comes out with us to places like this.”
“If hot girls were chasing me in packs,” Tom perked up with a sly grin, “I’d give every single one of them my attention…”
Steve looked at him with open disdain.
“That is exactly why they don’t chase you.”
“Hey!” Tom immediately protested. “Are you trying to say I’m not as handsome as Lake? I’m a thousand times better-looking!”
He ran a hand over his close-cropped African curls and flashed a wide smile.
“God, man…” Steve breathed, covering his face with one hand.
They kept arguing for a while, but Rick lost the thread of the conversation again.
The fire cracked in front of him, sending a burst of sparks upward, and he fixed his eyes on them for a second, trying to latch onto something simple and understandable. But the feeling inside him didn’t go anywhere.
He needed to clear his head.
“I’m going for a walk,” he said, already getting to his feet.
To his surprise, no one really reacted. Steve said something to Tom, Tom immediately cut him off, and the conversation swallowed them again. Rick lingered for a second, as though waiting for someone to call him back, but no one did. He only shifted one shoulder and turned away, stepping beyond the circle of light.
With every step, the voices grew quieter, the laughter more muffled, and the crackle of the fire gradually dissolved into the general hum. For a while the warm glow of the string lights still clung to his shoulders, to his hands, but soon even that was left behind, giving way to sparser lights between the trees. He had no idea how long he wandered like that. Half an hour? An hour? Maybe more.
Night had settled fully over the clearing, and everything around him seemed changed — deeper, quieter, colder.
Somewhere far behind him, the main bonfire was still crackling, but his feet kept carrying him farther from the center, toward the trees, where there were almost no people.
A little cloud of white vapor escaped his lips with his next breath. The cold slipped beneath his clothes, and he automatically hunched, rubbing his forearms.
He should have gone back.
But for some reason, he didn’t want to. He didn’t notice when the path narrowed and the string lights were left somewhere behind him, replaced by rare little bulbs that barely gave off any light. The ground sprang softly underfoot. The air smelled of damp earth and smoke.
Rick exhaled, slowing his steps.
It was easier here. Quieter. No one pushed in with conversation, demanded his attention, or looked at him as though they expected some kind of reaction.
He was just about to take another step when he caught movement ahead, between the trees.
At first, only a silhouette. Then familiar outlines.
Rick stopped, narrowing his eyes, and after a couple of seconds he was sure.
“Are you serious right now?” Rick huffed quietly. “What are you doing here?”
Aaron was standing with one shoulder against a tree, and if anything, he didn’t seem surprised.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied calmly, as if what he was doing was already obvious.
“Taking a walk.”
“So am I.”
And that was where it ended.
Rick quietly came a little closer and, for a second, turned his head toward the clearing, where the lights still flickered between the trees.
“Yeah… sure,” he drawled.
For a while they were both silent, with only the distant music and crackling bonfire between them. Then Aaron finally asked,
“Something wrong?”
Rick shrugged, trying to make it look casual.
“It’s just… strange seeing you alone,” the words slipped out before he could filter them.
He regretted it almost immediately, because all at once he felt the silence between them grow thick and charged.
Aaron didn’t answer. He only looked at him differently.
Much more attentively. That look made something inside Rick tighten.
He was the first to lower his eyes, hiding his embarrassment behind his lashes, and stared down at his feet as though something terribly important had appeared there.
Fabric rustled quietly nearby. Aaron pushed off from the tree and, in a few unhurried steps, stopped directly in front of him. Not right up against him, but already too close for this to feel like an ordinary conversation.
“Jealous?” he asked calmly. There was genuine curiosity in his tone.
The distance between them had closed too quickly and too abruptly for Rick to anticipate it.
“No,” he answered a little faster than he wanted to, lifting his eyes to him again.
“Then what?” Aaron asked more quietly.
Rick didn’t notice himself holding his breath.
“Nothing…” he answered just as quietly.
Those calm gray-blue eyes were still fixed directly on him. Rick automatically licked his dry lips and suddenly caught himself looking at the dark strand of hair that had fallen across Aaron’s cheek.
For some reason, that was what finally knocked him completely off balance.
He immediately turned away, not understanding why standing beside him had suddenly become so awkward.
“Doesn’t look like nothing…”
Rick clenched his jaw in irritation.
He was starting to lose track of what was even happening. Why being near Lake suddenly made everything feel so tight. Why his heart began beating faster over the most ordinary things. Why right now he so badly wanted to take a step back and stay exactly where he was at the same time.
Somewhere off to the side, a branch cracked.
The sound came unexpectedly sharp, as though someone had yanked them out of the strange, thick state they had gotten stuck in.
They both turned their heads almost at once.
“Did you hear that?” Rick asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Aaron nodded shortly.
At first, only a muffled voice reached them. The words still got lost somewhere between the trees, but the irritation in the tone was clear enough.
Rick instinctively stepped closer to the woods, trying to tread more quietly. Aaron followed without asking.
Now the voice was clearer.
“…I said I’ll handle it myself!”
For several seconds, there was only irritated breathing and the rustle of branches beneath someone’s steps.
Then again:
“No, Benny, not now… What?.. Yeah, we already got it…”
Rick shot Aaron a quick glance, and in the next second they both recognized the voice.
Of course it was John.
He stood a little farther off with his back to them, lit by the cold glow of the phone clutched in his hand. His shoulders were tense, his voice kept breaking, and even from where they stood it was obvious he was barely holding himself together.
Rick tilted his head slightly, listening despite himself.
“Well, yeah. Seems like it. Works exactly like they said… What?!… Are you completely insane?! WHAT DID YOU DO? Don’t touch him! I’m coming!”
The call ended abruptly.
John froze for a second, as though he hadn’t quite returned to reality yet, and then he exhaled hard and snapped.
“God, I’m so fucking sick of you!”
He viciously kicked a tin can lying nearby. It flew off with a dull clang, but that wasn’t enough. He went after it and started stomping it into the ground, each blow harder than the last.
“You worthless piece of shit! Drop dead!” he kept shouting. “Bastard! I hate you!”
The metal crumpled pitifully beneath his kicks, the sound tearing through the quiet of the woods too loudly, almost unnaturally. His rage spilled out in bursts until, at last, it ran dry.
John stopped.
He breathed heavily, ran a hand through his hair as if wiping the outburst off himself, straightened—and then, already almost calm, walked away without looking back.
Rick watched him go, then slowly turned his head toward Aaron.
Aaron stood there, frowning more deeply than usual, his gaze still fixed on the place where John had just disappeared.
“Well…” Rick said quietly. “Looks like somebody seriously needs to work on his nerves.”
In response, Aaron only let out the faintest breath through his nose.
