Chapter Text
There was a rusty clang and Penny's eyes shot open.
Leaving the neutral and comforting light Jane had walked into and finding herself in the cool and humid mid-September air was jarring, to say the least, and the feeling made her gasp loudly.
Her first instinct was to grab her head, but any relief she could have felt at feeling the softness of flesh and her fingers running through her usual pigtails vanished from her mind as she felt something blocking her arms from going any further, trapping her in a terrifyingly familiar cage between the hard plastic seat behind her and the rusty metal bar in front of her. She tried to breathe in, her vision blurring and her ears buzzing, but the air refused to return to her lungs.
The sun was going down, the fair goers were screaming with joy all around her, and she had just boarded the Cyclone for the last time.
She could see them, just as she'd last seen them in what seemed a lifetime ago. Ocean and Constance, first in line as always, giggling nervously in the front row. Noel hissing to Mischa to put his phone away, who in turn seemed utterly unperturbed as he sent what was probably his last message to Talia. And finally Ricky, his face contorting in shock as he turned his head to face her.
In fact, they had all turned to face her, and she realized she was screaming.
In her panic, Penny hadn't even felt the tears running down her face, or the way her throat felt like closing up, or the frightened expressions of her friends and the other fair goers in line for the Cyclone.
"NO!! LET ME OUT! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE IN HERE!"
Penny was barely able to scream coherently, feeling her throat protest at the effort, or at least she was coherent enough through her tears that at least a few people in line seemed to have heard it. There were a couple of nervous laughs from the crowd, but most people were pretending not to notice her embarrassing outburst.
"Calm down," the crusty drunk carnie laughed at her, from his spot at the operating panel, where his hand hovered threateningly above the controls, "It's just a ride, you'll be fine!"
“LET ME OUT! PLEASE LET ME OUT!” she kept screaming through the tears, though it kept getting harder and harder to breathe enough air to let the words out. “PLEASE DON’T LET ME DIE!”
“Hey, calm down, girl!” he thankfully left the panel behind and came to her with his hands up as one would try to calm a horse, “Fine, you can get out if you want, but then you’ll have to go to the end of the line, there are other people waiting.”
She couldn’t calm down enough to clarify that she wasn’t just having a case of the nerves, and she had no intention of ever getting back in line, when the implication hit her.
"NO!” He was now close enough that she was able to grab at his shirt like a lifeline, the stink of booze from his breath not stopping her from getting close enough to his face that she would hopefully get the point across. “You can't let anyone else ride, there'll be an accident! Everyone is going to die!!"
By now there was a palpable tension in the crowd, some people seemed genuinely scared, while others seemed amused or annoyed at her display, but thankfully she spotted a few of them leaving the line entirely.
"ENOUGH!!" he yelled back at her, red in the face as he tore her fingers from his shirt, before turning to the others, "GET OUT ALL OF YOU! AND TAKE YOUR CRAZY FRIEND WITH YOU!"
Penny wasn't sure she was still crying from fear or gratitude when he pushed a button and the safety bars jolted up. The others groaned in disappointment, but she took a deep, shaky breath, and all but jumped out of the cart, still unable to stop crying.
Oh, Dr. Prattle was about to have a field day with her.
Ocean didn't leave the cart, but stood up to properly face the carnie, mustering all of her self-righteousness and
"I DON'T CARE!" he went on, barely wasting a breath, "She's scaring the other riders, get her out of here! If you want to go, you'll have to get back in line!"
“You know what? I didn’t even want to ride this rusty death trap anyway,” Ocean sniffed, leaving the cart, despite Constance feebly trying to pull her back down, “No, this establishment is clearly not concerned with the safety of its customers, and I will not spend a moment more in here!”
Even the carnie seemed taken aback by the full 180º, but it was to be expected of course, Ocean always managed to spin other peoples’ decisions as her own. Constance seemed reluctant to leave the cart, though. She looked around sheepishly as Mischa and Noel also stood up, and for a moment, Penny was afraid she might actually not leave.
Thankfully the sobering-by-the-minute carnie did not seem particularly gracious to her plight, as he stood next to her, arms crossed and an ugly scowl on his face.
“Now!”
Constance deflated like a balloon, but obeyed him and begrudgingly exited the ride. She followed Ocean to help Ricky exit the ride - his crutches had gotten stuck behind the bars - but not before shooting Penny a dirty look.
She tried to get up, but in the end it took both Noel and Mischa - muttering something along the lines of "that’s so wack, bro" - to take her down the stairs opposite the entrance, the others quickly following behind them.
She was barely able to miss the sound of the safety bars locking back down, and the cart full of strangers rolling forwards.
Please let me be wrong, please…
It took only a few seconds for them to reach the fairgrounds again, and by then there was no mistaking the upset expressions of her colleagues.
Mischa huffed and went back to texting as always, while Constance refused to look at Penny at all, staring longingly at the line that was now longer than when they first boarded. Ocean kept on listing the reasons why they were better off without riding the Cyclone, and how there was more time now to go on other rides, but Penny was 92% sure she was just saving face after being bossed around. Noel just rolled his eyes at Ocean and pointed out they had already been to most of the attractions, wondering aloud if they should just go and find Father Markus, since the trip was obviously ruined, but also avoided looking at Penny.
She could almost think they had completely forgotten her presence, were it not for Ricky.
He had been staring at her intensely, since the moment she came back, which was understandable after all; Penny was sure she must have caused quite the impression in her hysteria. She scoured her brain to find any crumbs of the little ASL she had learned back in Elysium, which frankly wasn’t much and was something she hoped to change in the near future now that she had the chance, and was at least able to clumsily offer him a meager…
Sorry, she signed and said at the same time, remembering to change her expression at the last second. Are you upset?
His eyes widened even more at that, and she wondered if she had somehow messed up and signed something totally incoherent or embarrassing, or he was really that surprised at her pitiful attempt at communication? Then again, she knew very well that St. Cassian’s was not exactly a bastion of inclusivity.
Ricky seemed more enthusiastic at that, adjusting his grip on the crutches, probably to sign something back at her, but whatever response he was readying was promptly forgotten as they heard the ear piercing scraping and warping of metal above them. Almost as if rehearsed, every head around them turned upwards at the same time, just as the screams of glee twisted into something else horrifyingly familiar. Not familiar enough, though.
Penny didn’t look up. She didn’t need to.
It was kind of disturbing how relieved she felt that the screams were someone else’s.
There was a pandemonium as the screams above stopped and were replaced by the screams below. People ran all around them, some in the direction of the Cyclone, others away from it, but thankfully no one seemed to notice the group of teenagers who had just escaped from a very tragic death.
Well, at least no one except the choir seemed to notice, but just as they had during her panic attack, now again they had all turned their head to face her with a mixture of fear and awe.
“You…” Noel started, his voice weaker than she had ever heard, he looked five seconds from puking the corndogs they had earlier. “You knew that…”
“How in the devil did you know what was going to happen?!” Ocean’s shrill voice cracked near the end, but it did nothing to lessen the impact of her accusatory tone.
Penny sputtered, feeling rooted to the ground as she looked around for some explanation. Shit, how did I know that?!
It was then that she spotted, standing eerily still and pale faced amongst the panicked crowd, fourteen year-old Ezra. He was holding the piggy stuffed toy he won as a prize at the Whac-A-Mole stand (he planned to turn it into a Lord of the Flies effigy and place it in the teacher's room) and looking up hopelessly at the rollercoaster above.
Suddenly it didn't matter whether or not the choir believed in any explanation she might come up with. That was her brother, staring in shock at the spot where the cart derailed, well aware that his sister had been in line for the Cyclone...
Her feet moved of their accord and in a matter of seconds she crashed against him, hugging him so tight he wheezed out of his shock.
Ever since they had to leave Elysium, Penny had taken all the care in the world to avoid crying in front of Ezra. In Elysium, they had been taught to express their feelings and there was nothing embarrassing about crying. St. Cassian’s was another beast entirely.
So, when her wonderfully weird little brother started to “adapt”, his warm and embracing nature hardening into a stoic shell of his former self in response to the hostility of other children, she found herself unconsciously changing too. Penny became more and more drawn in and stoic, to the point she could not remember the last time she had openly cried. Certainly not in front of Ezra. Certainly not after the meds.
None of that mattered now, as happy tears streamed down her face, and she crushed the lanky teenager in an embarrassingly tight hug. I’m back, Ez’.
When she finally stepped back, he was looking between her and the rest of the choir as they stood awkwardly back near the entrance, and at his expression she realized he must have asked her something and was waiting for her answer.
“What?” she asked, not being able to wipe the grin from her face.
“I thought for sure you were on that ride!” he yelped, the distress clear on his face. “I thought… It was you on-”
Penny felt her heart break for her little brother; in another life, she had been on that ride.
Jane Doe, the coroner had declared, and Penny Lamb could only wonder what sort of circumstances had led to that. She imagined her parents were not allowed to identify the body, if they even got the news in prison, but Ezra was right here!
Had they dismissed him because of his age? Their collective criminal record? Had St. Did Cassian’s anything to do with it? It didn’t even matter anymore, there was no way for her to know now and she doubted Karnak had granted her a second chance for her to waste it figuring out the details of her death.
Especially because what could she possibly say that would make him understand she was as glad to see him again as he was to see her?
“I’m here now,” she simply said, smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, but here and now is out of the question,” she looked around and realized most of the crowd had either congregated near the fences under the rollercoaster, where a group of fair workers stood awkwardly around the scene, or simply left the fairgrounds altogether.
In the distance she spotted the familiar figure of Father Marcus running towards them, his face flushed and sweaty from what she imagined were several minutes of running around looking for his charges. And his arrival was timely indeed, if the suspicious looks the rest of the choir were directing at her and Ezra were anything to go by, and she really wished to get her story straight with Ezra before there was any questioning on their part.
“Thank the Lord you’re all alright,” he gasped as soon as he reached them, doubling over to catch his breath. “I heard people saying there was an accident and- oh well, you’re all alright.” A couple of hands half-heartedly patted him on the back, but he simply waved them off.
“We should probably head back, this place will probably be crawling with paramedics and police very soon, and I sincerely hope none of you are in the mood for any more attractions after all… that.”
As they all walked back to the van - thankfully Father Marcus had once again failed to notice Ezra quietly tagging along with the group - Penny recalled Karnak saying something about Father Marcus dying of a heart attack after the accident, which after witnessing the laborious breathing and wheezing as the priest tried to recover from the short run around the small fair, it was not surprising the Cyclone had indirectly claimed a seventh victim. Then again, thinking about the guilt - both the standard and catholic varieties - he must have been through after the accident and definitely contributed to his untimely demise, Penny felt a fleeting pang of pity for the clergyman, which was a new and definitely unwelcome feeling.
She tried not to react too much when she spotted a familiar turban in her peripheral vision, not that anyone would notice a novelty machine with the lights out amid the chaos of the scene. Before Karnak disappeared behind some booth’s colorful tarp, she could almost imagine the guru’s eyes were glowing at her from beyond the shadows.
Thankfully, once again Ezra was roommate-less - something to do with his penchant for puppetry freaking out the other boys in his year - so as soon as they reached St. Cassian’s, Penny had an excuse to go up to Ezra’s room instead of her own and have to deal with her roommate’s questions.
Also, it would obviously be much easier to fill him into her trip to the afterlife without anyone listening in.
In the end it took her surprisingly less time to share the whole story with Ezra than she first imagined it. It definitely helped a lot that he had absolutely no qualms about believing her from the start. Sure, most people would take their sister's tale of a post-rollercoaster accident novelty-machine-engineered-afterlife with more than a few grains of salt and probably a psych referral. However, given their joint history, Penny and Ezra had decided a long time ago that life was weird enough for anything to happen.
“And that’s when the rat killed God?” Ezra offered, laying on his belly, flipping his feet in the air.
“I didn’t stick around to see it, but yeah!” she replied, pacing around the room for what seemed the millionth time. “Well, I’m making no claims that it was God, but sure, it is suspicious that a novelty machine would have the power to do all that.”
“Also, if I might add,” Ezra chimed in, chewing through the last of the snacks he had brought from the fair, “The modus operandi seems pretty godlike to me, making teenagers compete through song to get a second chance at life? Yeah, that’s something a bored divine being would put you through just for funsies .”
She snorted, but didn’t stop pacing. After a couple of minutes, Ezra joined her.
“So, what are you doing about it?” He offered after a while. “Somehow, I don’t think Dr. Prattle or Father Markus are going to be of any help with your unorthodox non-religious near-death experience.”
“I have no idea, I don’t even think the rest of them know who I am!” Penny threw herself on the bed, the weight of the day’s events finally catching up to her. “I doubt the accident will be enough to sway Miss Peachery about me joining the choir, and I’m not sure I can pretend to not know them after everything I’ve heard in the afterlife.”
Penny had joined the choir at the last minute, at the request of their case worker, who supposedly believed joining the choir could be good for her reintegration or something. If Miss Peachery thought the solution to Penny’s troubles integrating to the rest of St. Cassian’s student body could be solved with enough exposure; it was her prerogative, Penny was just in for the free trip to the Annual Fall Fair.
She wondered if Miss Peachery had felt as much guilt as Father Marcus after the accident.
“Oh yeah, I imagined the machine’s song contest might have gotten a little personal…” Ezra dropped on the bed by her side. "In any case, what does that have to do with anything?”
Penny jumped back up from the bed, the fatigue almost instantly leaving her body. She started pacing again.
“So, I just go on about my life after all of them voted for me? After they gave up on their dreams and what they could achieve for me? I get a second chance at life just so I can graduate and get a shitty job in a bigger town and ignore them as if nothing had happened?”
“I mean, that’s what they gave you a second chance for, right? Not so that you could have the best life , but so you could have a life .”
Penny sighed, that wasn’t wrong, but somehow it didn’t feel fair.
Yes, their lives could go on now that they also had a second chance, but the thing was they didn’t know it was a second chance. One thing about near-death experiences - or in her case actual death experiences - was that they completely shifted your perspective in life. Without that shift in perspective, would they be able to take a different path? To become what they dreamed they were?
Then again, maybe that was a little condescending. Right?
“It’s just… I saw how much they learned about themselves in that warehouse, and it’s less something that they can’t remember, and more something that they just haven’t realized yet. So maybe I can… I don’t know? Nudge them in the right direction?”
She grimaced; yeah, that sounded condescending, but her resolve that it was the right thing to do didn’t fail. Her brother just stared at her in disbelief.
“Sooo… now you feel responsible for the character development they missed out on, since apparently ensuring their survival isn’t enough to justify your second chance at life?” Ezra drawled, looking at her as if she was a very interesting and very dumb bug. “Eh, as far as unhealthy coping mechanisms go, this one is not that bad. I do have to say though, that’s a weird way to process your trauma.”
“Well, I was the one who died, Ez,’” she bit back, but felt less resistance from him. “I think I am entitled to process my trauma in any way I want. Of course, if my wise little brother advises me against my benign choice of coping mechanism, whatever else shall I do? Maybe I should cut my hair again?” she smiled sardonically. ”It worked last time.”
Ezra snorted.
“Last time you were extradited, nearly got charged with aggravated assault, actually got charged with drug dealing and was just white enough to get away on probation,” Ezra sighed. “Somehow I think that being decapitated during a roller coaster accident and being involved in a fortune-telling machine's power play in the afterlife is a whole different beast, but sure, why not? Worst thing that could happen would be having to make new friends again with a bad haircut, and as your recent predicament has proven, there are worse fates.”