"Escape Plan was a success," Enzo notes, coming up to a targeting booth. 

"What's this?" he questions the booth runner.

"Ah, I'm glad you ask," the woman says with bravado and a grand spread of her arms. Enzo and I exchange glances and I stifle a laugh. "Test your primal skills in this challenging booth. Throw knives, shoot arrows, and blow darts close to the target. The booth is run in challenges..." two more couples approach, interested in the game. "The first tier is the blow dart gun, the second is archery, and the third is knife throwing. Are you up for the challenge?" 

"Hell, yeah," Enzo says with a smirk. Then he looks at me as if he forgot I even existed."I mean, if you want to." 

I nod and shrug. "I'm up for it." 

 "How about you lovely folks?" the booth woman asks the others. I guess they nod or something because she goes, "Who wants to go first?"

"We will!" Enzo volunteers as the woman takes the blowgun. She tells me that we have three shots per round. 

"Here goes nothing," I grumble to myself, putting the mouthpiece to my lips. My first blow falls short, and my second to the right. I set the gun down and take a deep breath to centre myself.

Enzo comes up behind me and jerkily rubs the spot between my shoulder and neck, and despite my "ow" he keeps going. "Alright, sport, here's where we stand on the board...we're off the board. You've got one shot. And I'd say don't blow it, but you have to." 

I roll my eyes. "Alright, alright."

I raise the gun and deliver a directed blow. The dart falls a ring below the target. Enzoraises a black brow. "You were almost a little too good at blowing."

"Really?" I give him my are-you-kidding-me look. "A sexual innuendo? I thought you were at least a little better than that," I tease.

"Well," he gives me a half shrug to make his statement plaintive, but his expression is sad. "One of us has to act eighteen." I know he's talking more about stupid innuendos –  he means everything with the killer and Frederick.

The next couple hits higher than I do, and the third couple misses completely. The reigning couple gets three points, Enzo and I get two, and the third couple gets one. "Next up: archery."

"I'll get this one," Enzo offers. 

When the woman hands him the bow and arrows, I step in and take them for myself. "I got this one," I assure you.

"You sure?"

I position the arrow against the string, aim, and release. The tip sinks into the ring left of the red bullseye. "Oh, and we have a hitter!" the woman chants. "But is it just luck?" 

I add another arrow, position my arrow to the right a little bit, and let the arrow fly. It lands on the edge of the red. Pulling back the arrow, I close one eye momentarily to centre myself. "Bingo," I say to myself before releasing the string. Direct bullseye. 

"Where'd you learn that?" Enzo inquires.

 "Summer camp. I guess I still have muscle memory," I answer. 

 "Well, now I've gotta step up my game next round. Thanks for making me actually have to put effort into something," he jokes.

This round, we get three points. Enzo steps up for the knife challenge after flashing me an unsure look. His first knife connects with the ground, kicking dirt up. Enzo shakes his head and throws another one, which barely even nicks the target. He turns to me and throws his hands up in childish hopelessness. With his last knife, he twirls it and pushes his shoulders back. With an audible grunt, he throws the blade, muscles working underneath his shirt. The knife finds its way into the centre of the target. 

"How was that?" Enzo cockily challenges.

 "Unsettling," I admit. "Yet impressive." 

 "That's usually the way people describe me," he jokes...all about jokes today. 

 "I bet," I say, playfully pushing him away.

He grabs the hand I pushed him with and pulls me back with it so he can drape a long arm around my shoulders. "So where did that ninja knife skill come from?" 

Enzo's face flashes malicious, contemptuous anger as I saw before. The one that flashes so fast that I doubt its existence. Again, something Maren once said tugs at the back of my mind and makes me uneasy. "I just don't like to lose," he says as the other couples finish throwing knives – none of them even close to what Enzo did.

"I don't like to fail tests but I do it anyway," I grumble. 

Enzo looks down at me with those yellow eyes. But instead of staring at me with the affection he's displayed all night, he looks at me with...nothingness. A blank, emotionless, apathetic stare that doesn't convey anything. It's almost like looking into the LED eyes of an absentminded robot. 

"And the winning couple is...Reyna and Enzo by a landslide!" the booth runner cheers, handing us a bag full of gold tickets. "Your prize is the gold tickets. Winning at our booths gives you the opportunity to put your name down on these tickets and throw it in the Great Hat. Whoever's name is pulled will receive a portion of donations for this carnival – five thousand dollars!"

Enzo blinks a few times before regaining his charming-yet-devious expression. He smiles with grandeur and takes the tickets, nodding his head full of black hair at the woman, who bats her eyelashes at him despite her being like, twice his age. He comes back to me and opens his mouth to say something when he furrows his brows and reaches into the pocket of his phone. A shadow creeps into his eyes and his jaw feathers."I've got to take this. It's the Sheriff. I'll be back in a sec, okay?" 

"Yeah," I cheerily say with a nod, roaming to the nearest picnic table. The bulbs above give off light, the background music is upbeat, the sun is just about done running its day course, and I'm sitting here enjoying it all until I remember the past week. 

Until I remember I'm considered a murderer. There's a distant idea that I'm just doing all this with Enzo because I owe him for covering my tracks, but I easily dismiss it with confidence. I'm here because I like Enzo. But how can someone like him be like someone like me? I'm quiet, plain, and...oh yeah, a murderer. Apart from me wants to come clean, but what good would it do? It doesn't bring Freddie back from the dead. 

"Hey, Rey," a meek voice says from behind me. This was once my closest friend, but since the others took her in rather than myself, she's been as familiar as a total stranger.

I turn to Maren, who has a weak smile on her lips. "Hi," I respond. "Is the coldshoulder expiration date today?"

Maren takes the seat next to me and unsurely sits down. "We're all tired of leaving you out. We miss you." 

 "So I should just forgive you all and come back with open arms?" I rhetorically question.

Maren flinches as if she's been hurt. "In a perfect world," she responds. "But I don't expect that. I just want you to know that I want us to be friends again." 

 "I have two questions for you," I switch the topic. "One: why did you, of all people, came out?" 

She traces the indents on the wood table with a long, light blue painted fingernail.

 "Honestly, I wanted to see what it would be like if I had friends as you did. But they never saw me as they saw you." 

I nod, digesting the information. "Thanks for being honest," I gratify with a kind smile. Maren's always had trouble with her insecurity with people, so admitting it outright is a big gesture in her attempt to rekindle our friendship. "Two: what does it mean when someone has these...flashes of anger on their face? Like they don't even mean to do it but it slips?"

Maren smirks – something she rarely does. "This is right up my alley," she eagerly says, rubbing her hands together with vigour. "That's usually a trait displayed in psycho and sociopaths. The only emotion they really feel is anger – and even that is fleeting. The slip is a reveal of their true self." 

I remember looking up my question online and getting answers similar to Maren's. Enzo really be any of those things? It's impossible. Maybe he just thinks of something bad that happened in his past and gets angry. Yeah, that's it.

Deep down, I know I'm fooling myself. To some extent, it would make sense. How else could he be around me when he knows I killed Fred? 

 But then again, he seems so...legitimate. How can someone physically mimic emotions so well if they can't even feel them? 

"Why do you ask?" Maren questions.

 Shrugging, I answer with, "I'm just wondering."

Maren knows that's not the answer, but she won't pry anything out of me. She hasn't earned that right back. Only my closest friends can do that to me, and at the moment, I have none. My closest accomplice is Enzo, and he might even be a psycho or a socio. My mom would say I need to pick better people to surround myself with, but I'd just tell her I'm surrounding myself with people who want to find my half-twin brother. Maybe I'd even tell her that she's selfish for not helping us look, too.

"Hey, sorry about that," Enzo apologizes, coming back vaguely disturbed and shoving his phone in his cargo shorts pocket. Suddenly, I'm afraid to be with him alone. Psychopaths punish their enemies because they love to cause pain. I flashback to the kissing my car that neither of us has talked about. That didn't seem very painful. Maybe the Internet and Maren are wrong. Enzo looks at Maren and me, noticing everything like his brother. "What were you guys talking about?" he precariously inquires.

Maren opens her mouth to respond when I barge in. "Nothing really." Quickly, I stand up, bumping my knee against the bottom of the tabletop.

"Easy, kid," Enzo advises. "It's not a race." He gives me a flashy smile and I wonder if he's really happy or just acting happy. "Hey...you're Maren, right? Sheriff Desario'sdaughter?"

"Yeah," Maren confirms. "If you want to say hi, he's working one of the booths tonight."

Working one of the booths? That means he's off tonight. Why would he be calling Enzoif he isn't working tonight? Did he even call Enzo, or is something else going on? A knot forms in my stomach as things look worse and worse for Enzo. Says the murderer. 

"Oh, alright," he says, not expected Maren to reveal the information. His face morphs with anger for a split second, and Maren doesn't miss a beat. She turns to me, eyes wide. I bite my lip and look away. I can't let Enzo know that we could be on to his psychological troubles. If he really is what Maren would think he is, then who knows what he'd do if he knew that we know? 

Wow, that's confusing.

"Where to next?" Enzo asks me, brushing my arm with the side of his hand to snag my attention. I shrug. "The Ferris wheel?" 

Lots of people go on those, so I won't be alone with him, right? 

 Calm down, Reyna. Enzo King isn't psychopathic. 

 He'll hurt you, Reyna. Don't trust him. No one can fake emotion like that... 

 Maybe Aero was right... 

"Okay," I agree. I shove the voices out of my head and try to just enjoy the moment. 

"See you later, Mare?" 

 Maren looks surprised that I even addressed her, let alone insinuate that we would willingly cross paths again. "Yeah," she says with a smile. "Be careful."

"It's a Ferris wheel," I say, diverting from the topic of psychoticism. "I think I'll be alright."