“I smell hot dogs,” I say, as if that’s an answer. He smiles and I try to recover, “I mean, can I have a hot dog?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Okay then, I’m ready,” I say as if hot dogs are the thing that will keep me sane out there. And he takes my hand and leads me back out into the bright noise.
I eat four hot dogs from the illegal patio slash grill situation and meet dozens of people, none of whom I can remember moments later. Jake and Ryan continue to be charming and weird, usually at the same time, and it’s all so incredibly nice and normal that I’m sad I can’t take it, but after an hour and a half, the noise is getting to me. This much noise and this many people, in such a confined space, it’s just too much. I have a headache the size of a small state from all the sensory overload. I don’t know what a party feels like to someone with normal senses, but to me, with everything heightened, it seems like 100 parties, all at once, all jammed into my head. I’m about to tell Clark that I have to go. In fact, I’ve been searching for the right words for nearly twenty minutes, the words that will make it clear that it has nothing to do with him, just with my super-senses being totally overloaded – without, of course, saying anything like that – when he reaches for my hand and whispers warmly in my ear.
“Let’s get out of here.” I nod and follow him out into the hallway and then into the city. We don’t say anything as he pulls me along the darkening streets. After several blocks he stops at a big building. “I want to show you something,” he says and opens the front door with a key. At the elevator he has to use a code inside. When we step off we’re outside again, in a lush dark garden on the roof of the building. Clark leads me forward a few steps and then releases my hand and goes to a nearby wall. I’m standing on cool grass, some blades of it reaching up into my jeans. Suddenly the garden is illuminated by tiny strings of white lights. It’s a secret magical feeling place.
“Where are we?” I breathe.
“It’s great, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful,” I say. “I didn’t know something like this could exist…in the city like this.”
“Sure. Rooftop decks, one of the greatest things about the city, if you ask me. They’re a bit too rare, but maybe that’s what makes them so magical.”
“Whose is this?”
“It belongs to my family,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, like he’s ashamed to admit it, or embarrassed. How you could be embarrassed by something so beautiful is beyond me.
“Where are they?” I ask. It seems empty and silent.
“Well my dad hates the city, so he’s never here. He keeps the place for my mother’s family, I guess. In case they want to visit. But they never come. They wanted me to live here while I was going to school. But it seemed…wrong. How could I have a normal life…something like what everyone else at school has if I was living here, right?”
“So, you’re like really rich or something?”
“My family is, not me. But I guess, I mean I get to take advantage of it all the time…I should just get used to it. Makes me seem like a jerk if I pretend I’m not, right?” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. I shrug.
“I don’t think you’re a jerk,” I say. And as he looks back up, there’s a huge pop and the sky explodes in color.
“Oh my god,” I say, watching the sky turn brilliant shades of red and then gold.
“Oh, yeah,” Clark says, looking at the fireworks, “That’s why I brought you up here. Amazing, right?” I just nod, unable to take my eyes off the bursting colors. He kneels down and motions to me.
“Come down here. It’s the best view. I discovered it when I was a kid.” He lies down in the grass and I lie down next to him, the grass bending under my weight, cool blades of it poking my back where my skin is slightly exposed. The sky grows bright again, this time in blues and greens then silvery yellows. Pink, purple, orange, and blue again. More red. It’s hypnotic and the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen. I turn to him as the sky goes electric blue around us.
“Thank you,” I say. He turns to me, propping himself up on his elbow.
“You’re welcome,” he says. He leans forward and he’s closer than he’s ever been before. I can almost taste him, his skin, his breath, his soul almost. I close my eyes and try to savor the moment, one that won’t ever happen again. But suddenly, just as his lips touch mine, I hear a piercing scream. I yank my head back, nailing him in the lip with my chin.