Smile

It's been happening since I was little. Every night, I would quietly sneak out of my house to play at the park down the road. It was my tenth birthday when I met him, the boy who changed my life forever:

The birthday party had ended hours ago. All my friends had already left, and I could hear my parents snoring from the other room, a sure sign they’d be out till dawn, knowing how my parents slept. I crept out from under my covers and headed to the window. The rain was heavy. I could hear its thumping and see the little droplets hit the closed window. As soon as I opened the window, I felt cold drops fall onto my face from outside as the wind blew it inside, and I took a moment to enjoy the cool air.

It was only for a little bit, but I could still feel my heart pounding.

I took a deep breath and was ready to go again.

I was all too eager to get outside and play, since my parents had refused to take me earlier today, so I grabbed the stool by my closet and pulled it over to the large window. As I climbed out, I reached for the windowsill to steady myself.

“Ow!” I whispered, pulling my hand back hastily as blood began pooling at the cut from the unsanded wood.

I waited a second and listened to make sure my parents didn't wake up, just in case. When the snoring continued, I relaxed and tried again, this time successfully heaving myself over the windowsill. My feet landed softly on the wet grass, and I slid the window shut.

Step 1: Get out of the house without getting caught. Done. Onto step two.

Around me is the grass of our side yard with some flowers lining the house. Our house is on the corner of the street, so the sidewalk is only a few feet away.

I slowly walk to the sidewalk, looking around, slightly paranoid that one of the neighbors was gonna walk out and tell my parents I was sneaking out. Despite the fact that they’re probably all asleep. When no one came to yell at me, I started running down the sidewalk, trying to make my footsteps as light as possible. Only a minute or two later, I reach the trail leading to the park. There are quite a few trees surrounding the area, so I can’t yet see my favorite merry-go-round, but I know it’s there, probably empty and waiting for me.

I switch from the pavement to the dirt trail, weaving around bushes and flowers. I feel someone yank at my shirt and gasp, praying I wasn’t about to get kidnapped, or worse: caught. When I turn to look at who it is, though, I realize my shirt had just caught on a branch, and I sigh in relief, ripping it free, leaving only a few red fuzzies on the branch where my shirt had been caught.

“This is terrifying. I don’t know why anyone would enjoy doing this,” I mumble to myself under my breath, before heading forward once again.

I get to the end of the trail and wait at the edge to make sure no one else is there. My eyes scan over the structures. The swings, slightly swaying in the breeze that accompanies the rain, are empty. So are the benches and the slides. The monkey bars look like metal bones with no one to play on them, and there didn’t seem to be a person in sight at this hour.

I walk around the play structures to the back of the park, where the merry-go-round is, and stop short when it comes into view.

It’s a boy.

Some boy is on my merry-go-round. He’s not even playing, for goodness sake! Just sitting there in my way.

His back was turned to me, so I gave myself a moment to just watch him, his dark hair and black shirt somehow not soaked at all from the rain. Part of me wants to go back home and forget about it, but for some reason, I just stand there staring at him.

My feet seem to move on their own. I watched them go, one foot in front of the other before I even fully realized what I was doing. I made up my mind that I want to go on the merry-go-round even with the boy there, though I don’t remember making this decision.I step in front of him, and he looks up. Or at least I assume he looks up, because I can’t see his face under his mask with a painted smiley face on it, but his head tilts up towards me, so he must be looking at me.

I opened my mouth to ask him if I could use the merry-go-round but the words stuck in my throat. Despite that though, he still stood up and gestured to it, “Are you wanting to play? I wanted to play. But I had no one to play with.” His head tilted slightly to the side.

“Now you’re here,” the boy finished.

I couldn’t quite figure out what it was but something seemed off about his voice. It sounded almost hollow, and way too quiet to be normal despite nothing being technically wrong with it.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Thanks,” I say, but I can’t help but stare at him longer.

He waits, and when I don’t move, he takes the mask off, revealing a pale face with bright blue eyes that almost look like they are glowing. He has the sweetest smile and the best dimples. “Sorry, was the mask making you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“Oh, um, I just thought it was interesting. Why do you wear it?”

He shrugs.

We stay silent for a while longer before I say, “Well, do you want to play with me?”

He smiles and nods. The rest of the night we spent playing on the merry-go-round. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s super sweet. Yet something about him always… bothers me. We started meeting once a week and slowly became close friends. One day, I stopped showing up. I can’t explain exactly why, but I can't convince myself to go back.

A month after I stopped going, I started getting letters from him. I swear the letters were threats, though I could never quite tell you why. I read them the first month, but started just throwing the letters away. They were all the same. Asking where I went. Asking me to come back. Telling me he’s lonely. Some mornings, I would wake up and find one sitting on my pillow. I never even got the boy's name, though, so I feel no remorse for leaving. I tried telling my parents about the letters. I even asked them about the one time the boy had left a pile of them in our kitchen. They just simply told me, “That didn’t happen,” and the conversation was over.

I’m now fifteen years old and am going to high school. I haven’t talked to the boy since, and eventually the letters stopped appearing, except for every once in a while, I think I see a glimpse of one behind the fridge, in my binder, or in the trash. They never stay long enough for me to grab them, though.

“Lizzy! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” My best friend says, running towards me with her signature grin on her face.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, I was retaking a test and forgot to tell you. I’m back.” I say returning her smile, but much softer.

“We were wanting to know if you plan on coming to Carah's birthday party tomorrow.” My best friend Becka said.

“Definitely.”

“Great! It’s gonna be a blast! She’s having it down at the park. It’ll only be a couple of us, but her mom is bringing pizza.” Becka informed me.

“Oh, the park? Do you mean the one over by my house or the one by the library?” I ask, hoping she says the one by the library. I haven’t gone to the park by my house in years; it gave me the creeps.

“The one by your house, so it should be a short walk for you, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. But haven’t kids died there in the past? The trees around it make me uncomfortable,” I admitted.

“It’ll be fine! Nothing like that has happened in five years, and they caught the guy who did that.”

"Doesn't mean someone else won't try,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?” She asked.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ll definitely be there though.”

She ran off to tell our other friends, and the rest of the day, all I could think about was that park. And did she say five years ago? It can’t be a coincidence that that’s how long ago I met the boy at the park.

I get an uneasy feeling in my gut, but I decide to try not to think about it. I’ll just make an excuse to leave early.

The next day rolls around. I wake up groggy and dress myself. As I dress, all I can think about is the boy, and I don’t want to go any more every minute that passes. I eventually settled on bringing a knife just in case and leaving early.

I walk down the sidewalk alone, absent-mindedly tracing the familiar path. I stop in my tracks when I see a smiley face on a mailbox, but when I look back at it, it’s gone. I brush it off as nerves and keep walking. A few steps further, I see it again, this time a little girl wearing a smiley face mask. Once again, the mask disappears as soon as I look again. I begin walking faster, and before I know it, I’m running to the park. I sigh in relief as I finally arrive.

Not long after I arrive, though, I feel eyes on me from everywhere.

“Happy birthday, Carah!” I say giving her a hug, and then I see it. I see the mask deep in the woods, just standing there.

“Thank you! I’m so glad you could make it!” She responds, moving just enough so that I can’t see the mask anymore.

“Me too!” Something is bothering me, though. I feel drawn to the woods. Like I need to go in. Like the boy was beckoning for me. “Could you excuse me for a moment, please? I need to go do something really quick.”

“Yeah, of course! Take as long as you need,” she replied, waving me off and heading towards another friend.

I walk to the woods, but the boy is gone. I walk around for a few seconds before I find him: he’s standing in the densest part of the trees, probably waiting to kill me. I hear my heart thundering in my chest, and before I can even think through what I’m doing, I run towards him, pull out my knife, and stab him in the throat, making his head tilt back as it had five years ago. His mask falls to my feet, and as he dies right there…

He smiles.

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I run to the park, eager to get to my favorite park. I remember hearing a story about some girl who killed someone here a year ago but I don’t mind it since the girl was found dead a day later meaning she was no longer a threat. I walk to the park and stop dead in my tracks. A boy in a smiley face mask was sitting on my favorite swing, and I swear he looked almost transparent in the rain. I wanted to leave but I felt pulled to him. A weird sense of déjà vu compelled me to stay. I go over to the swings. After all…

What’s the harm?