Page 25 of Employing Patience

He’s got chubby cheeks and messy black hair, but there’s no denying the family resemblance in those golden-brown eyes, brown skin, and shrewd little expression.

“But-but-but Gabby said I’m not allowed to like Elsa. Gabby said I have to like Kristoff. I don’t like Kristoff. He-he-he has a moose, and mooses smell. I don’t like smelly things.”

“Gabby’s wrong,” comes Art’s smooth voice. “And I’m sure Kristoff takes excellent care of his animals.”

I lean closer, way more interested in a conversation I know nothing about than I should be.

“S-s-she said Elsa is for girls.”

“Let’s check the next aisle.”

Oh, fuck.

I shoot upward and time it so I sidestep into the aisle they’ve just left before they step into mine. Even with my heart hammering and other people in the shop, I stoop again to try and catch more of their conversation.

“—harmful stereotypes.”

“She’s an idiot,” the boy says.

“She’s not an idiot; she’s simply misinformed.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she’s been told the wrong thing. If you want your favorite character to be an immensely powerful witch, don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Who’s your favorite character?”

“I like …” Art sighs. “The sleeping one.”

“Snow White or Sleeping Beauty? Because they-they-they both sleep.”

“Either. What about these?”

I can’t see what Art is holding up, but the kid scrunches up his nose. “I want tarts.”

“I told you, we don’t have time to cook them before school. We’ll make some this week.”

“But I want taaarts.”

“Keep going, Gustavo, and you’ll have nothing.”

The kid roars and starts kicking the bottom shelf at the same time as a high-pitched scream comes from the end of the aisle.

A girl who looks like Gustavo but older starts to yell, “Tio! Tio, there’s a strange man watching Gus between the shelves! What if he wants to steal him? Help! Help!”

Oh, no, no, no.

I shoot upward and accidentally stumble into the woman behind me, who I grab before she can fall into the shelf. “Shit, sorry, I—”

“Were you watching that little boy?” she gasps, horrified.

“Stranger danger! Heeelp!”

“No,” I assure the woman before holding both hands up and taking a step toward the girl. “You’ve got it wrong. If you could—”

Something slugs the back of my head, and I freeze for a second, wondering what the hell just happened.

“Creep!” the woman shouts, lifting her bag for another go.

---