Playground Read Free

to catch my breath when a
    man with a walkie-talkie appears out of nowhere. My stomach
    8
    Playground
    drops as I skitter down a pathway lined with tall trees and thick
    grass. I hide behind a large shrub.
    Another man is walking down the path toward my hiding
    place. There is a small house on the grounds, much smaller and
    safer looking than the haunted Mansion, so I make a run for it.
    The lights are on inside and I race up the steps to the front door.
    It’s unlocked. I turn the handle and peer cautiously into the dimly
    lit room. The room’s interior looks like a warm, cozy lodge deco-
    rated with high beamed ceilings, rustic wood paneling, and green
    plaid carpet. An old-fashioned piano plays eerily by itself in the
    corner. Objects of Pop Art fill the corners: oversize bottles of Pepsi
    and Coke, and cans of Campbell’s soup. Images of icons of the for-
    ties and fifties like Judy Garland, Elizabeth Taylor, Liza Minnelli,
    and Marilyn Monroe line the walls. The room has all my favorite
    pinball machines.
    I have found the coolest, most secret arcade.
    I grab handfuls of red and yellow gumballs from bowls on the
    tables in the middle of the room, and stuff them into my pockets.
    There’s a picture of Hef surrounded by girls on one of the pinball
    machines.
    I see shadows flickering in a blue-painted room. I dash across
    the arcade, through a mirrored door, and almost trip as I sink
    into carpet three inches deep. There are mirrors on every wall,
    even on the ceiling. I lock the door, noticing a box of Kleenex,
    pads of paper with bunny ears on them, and a sea of cushions on
    the floor.
    Sinking back into the carpet, I flip the television on and see
    naked people rolling around on the screen! I spin around, wonder-
    ing if anyone is watching. The images remind me of the man and
    lady in the Jacuzzi. The bottom of the screen reads, You are watch-
    ing the Playboy Channel.
    I’m afraid and curious at the same time. Someone pounds on
    the door.
    9
    J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R
    “Jennifer!” Dad raises his voice.
    I shut off the television and immediately begin taking hoards of
    gumballs out of my pockets, shoving them underneath the pillows.
    “Hang on, I’m trying to open the door,” my voice quivers.
    Please, God, don’t let him be mad at me. I promise I’ll never go
    into that cave again. He continues banging on the door as I franti-
    cally try to unlock it. The door finally opens and my father hovers
    over me!
    “Don’t ever lock this door again!” he shouts.
    We ride home in silence. My heart races. Am I in trouble? What
    if Dad knows I saw those people?
    Dad pops in a cassette of the Eagles. I catch him stealing
    glances at me, but I don’t turn my head. He begins to sing along to
    the words and eventually I begin to relax.
    10
    Two
    I t’s Thursday, Dad’s day with us, and I can’t wait to jump in his
    pool. The school bell rings and I race through the hallway and run
    outside to wait for Carmela to pick me up.
    I see Dad’s Rolls-Royce parked across the street with Christo-
    pher Cross blaring from his tape deck. My sister, Savannah, waves
    me over.
    Savannah is about two and half years younger than I am. She’s
    a cute little girl with golden blond hair, big blue eyes, and a smile
    that illuminates a room. She’s a typical girl, one who likes to wear
    dainty sundresses and tie yellow bows in her hair. Her favorite
    thing to do is put on her ballerina leotard and dance around the
    house. She is happy but also emotionally fragile and quick to cry.
    She slides into the backseat of the car as I hop into the front
    seat, taking my position next to my father.
    J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R
    “I need to make a quick stop at the Mansion,” Dad tells us.
    “We want go to McDonald’s,” I whine.
    “Don’t bug me,” he snaps back and my stomach tightens. He’s
    been snapping at me more and more recently. We pull up to those
    huge iron gates. The rock speaks again and I’m fearful of what