Chapter 5: Parked at the Festival

Dear Journal:

Today was a holiday from school, for both me and Miraj. He really wanted to take advantage of the day off, it seemed.

He came in this morning and asked if I could take him to the park.

I asked him to tell my why. He said that there was a festival going on, but he wouldn't say anything else.

The damn festival had been going on since the season started. I wanted to know why it had to be today, and he couldn't just enjoy the day off and go there during the weekend.

"It has to be today," was all he kept saying.

Eventually, I dropped everything I was doing, and I took him to the stupid festival.

Turns out he had ulterior motives.

When we got there, he set up some kind of stand and put out all that baked junk he made.

Smart little punk dragged me along to see him try business.

Well, that's what I thought he wanted, at first. Then he told me that while he was doing his little bake sale, I should look around the park.

Not my idea of wasting time, but if he said so.

 I didn't really want to, at first. But the more I messed around with stuff, the less weird it felt.

At a point, it almost felt kind of normal. Like for once in my life, I was a normal teen. I didn't have to worry about responsibility and shit.

Just wish I wasn't reminded of it every time I looked over at Miraj.

Maybe it could've been he was picking up on what I was doing, and trying to show he can have a job too.

The kid had determination, I'll give him that. He stayed at that stand until it got dark.

By the time the festival was shutting down for the night, it looked like he was ready to go. He said he didn't get as many sales as he thought.

 I told him, "Hey, more for us. Not your fault people in this town can't appreciate good food."

He actually wanted me to help him carry the stupid stand back to wherever he got it. From what he said, he was borrowing it from someone in town.

Well, first it was carrying the stuff he made home first, so he could put it all away. Then bring the table back.

That was a hell of a lot easier. Then, when we finally got home for the night, he changed gears from businessman to kid.

He wanted me to read him a bedtime story. Why, I don't know. He said himself a while back he was getting too old for them.

But he told me the reason was, "I just want to be able to get some sleep before tomorrow."

When I asked him what was tomorrow, he clammed up again. I kinda...took that as my cue to quit screwing around and read him his book.

 I don't do bedtime stories. I sure as hell didn't like them when I was a kid. They all seemed to consist of fairies, glitter, happy endings, and all that nauseating shit.

Miraj, I guess, loved them for some reason. Maybe he liked all the potential dream fuel they gave him. Hey, he was young enough to pretend if he wanted.

Or maybe he wanted an escape from the cruel bitch that was reality.

That's probably what I thought when he fell asleep. Whatever I grabbed, it was probably boring enough to put him out like a light.

At least he had his dreams to keep him happy. You know, as long as they didn't turn into nightmares.

Which they sometimes did. But weirdly enough, he hasn't woken up yet tonight. In fact, for the first time since Iqbal's death, he's been sleeping pretty soundly.

That's good for both of us, I guess. But I stayed awake in case he did wake up.

You never really know.

(End of Chapter 5.)