Page 27 of When In Doubt

OSCAR

“You’re a lifesaver,” I say as I see Jenna, our Driver Operator, jogging toward me with several packs of toilet paper piled in her arms. I thought that I’d planned for everything, but we somehow ran out at noon. “You okay to get it all distributed?”

“On it.” She nods and strides past me, heading towards the portable toilets out in the yard.

“You’re the best!” I call after her.

“I know!”

The whole day has been a whirlwind of chaos. Things started well, all the vendors got here on time and everything was set up smoothly. But of course, half an hour before doors opened the dunk tank malfunctioned, one of the cats from Birdie’s competition got loose, and the clown realized that he’d left his balloon pump at home. I’ve been running around like a madman ever since.

I need this to go well. Mack trusted me with the Open House, I can’t fuck it up. This season, the funds are going towards upgrading the training tower, and if there’s any leftover we might refurbish the bunk rooms.

I press my back against the wall, finally taking in the space. It seems good. People are smiling, we at least have plenty of paper cups. I let myself have this moment to actually enjoy the event I’ve put so many weeks of work into.

I catch a flash of strawberry blonde in the crowd and something in me stutters. I saw her come in, looking like she was bracing for a blow, the usually soft line of her lips drawn tight with tension. I was about to go to her, but they needed help running power out to the food trucks.

I feel like an asshole for inviting her here and then, getting too caught up to check in, but seeing her with Becca reassured me. I knew she was in good hands, though I was looking forward to that tour I promised.

She’s across the apparatus room, talking to someone with a booth selling handmade journals. I get halfway across the space, my steps quick, when a blow to the back of my knees has me gasping in shock.

I whirl, ready to face down whatever’s attacking me. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t a three-year-old in an oversized helmet, waving around a rubber fire axe, sugar crusted around her mouth.

“Occa!” she yells, prepping for another swing. I bend and wrap an arm around her waist, scooping her into the air where I disarm her of the makeshift weapon.

“Jeez, Birdie-Girl, you’re gonna take somebody’s eye out.” I chuckle and tuck it into my belt, safe from sticky hands.

She blows a raspberry at me, spittle flying as she reaches for it.

“What the heck, Bird? That’s so gross!” Hell, this kid is going to turn into a serious menace if we’re not careful.

“I’m not gross! You’re gross!”

“Who’s gross?” I flip her upside down, causing her little helmet to fall off. “Huh? Who’s gross now?”

“You! You! You!” she squeals through her giggles. I catch sight of Joni who shoots me a grateful wave.

“You drop something?”

I almost lose my balance at the sound, stumbling forward a step. I manage to catch myself before Birdie and I go crashing to the floor. I try to play it off as I flip my wriggling passenger back over.

Freya reaches her hand into my line of sight, holding out Birdie’s helmet. I have to school my expression as I smile at her, watching as she drops it back on Birdie’s head. Birdie tucks her face against my shoulder, suddenly shy.

Yeah, I kinda know how she feels.

A soft flush creeps across Freya’s cheeks as she takes a step back. She’s wearing her same green coat, still buttoned up, even in the warmth of the station.

“This is my friend Freya. You going to say hi?” I whisper to Birdie. She shakes her head. I give Freya an apologetic smile. “She takes a second to warm up to new people.”

Freya chuckles. “Been there.”

I remember. Back when we were kids she kept to herself unless a teacher prompted her. When I was thirteen I shot my one and only shot at having a conversation with her, asking a question about ladybugs and getting the cold shoulder. I really wish I hadn’t thrown in the towel so soon, opting instead for watching her like a pint-sized creep.

No wonder she doesn’t remember.

Freya ducks down so she’s at eye level with Birdie, who’s now peeking out from my uniform shirt. “I heard you’re the person to ask if I wanted to know what time the cat contest was on?”

Birdie nods wordlessly.