Page 11 of Teach’s Hayride with the Baller

“Okay, good.” Her shoulders dropped as I squeezed her gently. Her body pressed softly into me, tension slipping from her small, curry frame with every step.

I grinned and glanced over her head. “Except maybe the haunted house.”

Hazel tensed again. “Wait. Really? They do those?”

“Yeah, later though. We can do it last. Right before the lantern walk at the end of the night. That’s more pretty than scary to end the night with, okay? I thought you’d like it.” I turned her back to press against my front and rested my chin on the top of her head, watching a parade of farm animals dressed up as monsters walk past.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Hazel giggled a second later as a pig trotted past wearing a skirt bearing misshapen tentacles. “And that one.” A goat with neon painted horns followed it.

“Yeah, he’s done a good job this year. Ah—” I closed my mouth and tried to turn her away.

“What is that?” Hazel stared. Her hand rested on my arm where I folded it around her waist, but she seemed not to notice.

A confection of pink pronked on over.

“That is a llama with googly eyes wearing a tutu.” I sighed and waved.

Hazel tipped her head to one side and I had the impression she closed one eye to check. “How do you know?”

“Because that’s my brother, and that’s his herd.”

“Hey, buddy.” My brother clapped me on the shoulder, his hand wrapped around the reins of four llamas all dressed in fluffy tutus and bearing googly eyed headbands that added at least an extra six inches to their ridiculously long necks. “How are you going? Ma’am,” he said politely to Hazel.

“Oh. Hi?” Hazel eyed the llama nervously and settled for petting one grumpy looking alpaca that had been groomed to within an inch of its life. It alone did not wear a costume.

“Hi, Duke.” I shook my brother’s hand and managed not to dislodge any of the leads he grappled with. “Who’ve you brought with you tonight?”

“Pixie, Masala, Hades, and Bumpkin,” he introduced the llamas. “And the alpaca is Dandelion. She didn’t want to wear a costume this year, did you sweetie? But you would have looked lovely in a fireman’s coat.”

The alpaca swallowed. I swore a bead of spit rolled all three feet of its neck from its stomach compartments to its mouth. Steeping backward and bringing Hazel with me before we wore the unhappy alpaca’s dinner in a one-sided spitting match, I nodded to my brother.

“Good luck. We won’t keep you. The parade is moving along.”

“Well, must keep going.” Duke nudged Pixie or Hades—I couldn't tell them apart—and his fluffy tutu-wearing clan stepped right along, grumpy alpaca in tow. “Come out and see me some time,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s nearly birthing season! The crias are always cute.”

“Are they?” Hazel stared after him. “Your brother is a llama farmer,” she whispered, somewhat awed.

“Yeah, he’s the sane one at the dinner table.” I started walking, not wanting to have that conversation just yet. “And birthing is messy,” I grimaced. “He’s roped me in with that ‘they’re cute’ story more than once. Don’t fall for it,” I warned her.

“Does he live⁠—”

“Hay ride?” I interrupted her, turning us away from the crowd and into a quieter area. A small group of people milled around several hay carts that were attached to horses. Music played faintly from old speakers set up at the entrance to the corn fields in the neighboring block. An entrance to the path was cut into the wall of tall corn heads.

“Sure?” The same note of doubt entered Hazel’s voice from before.

“Two please.” I handed cash to the tired looking ticket booth holder who offered me a wan smile and waved us through.

“Hi, Zack.” One of the hay cart drivers waved. “Are you back already?”

I shook my head in warning. “Just showing the new teacher around town.”

Eyebrows raised beneath a broad brimmed hat. “Ah. Teacher.” Eyes met mine. “Right. Uh, I think Caleb is just about ready to head on in.” He pointed to a cart listlessly circling a stack of hay with a pumpkin set on top. A small flame flickered inside it.

“Is that going to set everything around us on fire?” Hazel asked out of the corner of her mouth.

I waved the hayride over, then whistled sharply when the horse didn’t obey the driver. Hazel eyed the whole contraption with no small degree of trepidation. “It’s safe,” I reassured her. “Not is going to drop you in the mud or run off and leave us, I promise. Plus, the corn maze has an easy solution.”

“Aways turn right?" she joked.