Page 120 of Worst in Show

“It’s a sprightly performance by Captain Puppington and his handler,” the MC says. “Oof, there goes another jump. This pup must have a steel plate in his forehead.”

“Oh my God.” Micki giggles. “I can’t.”

Somewhere next to her, I hear Harvey’s deep guffaws, too. At least he’s okay.

Cap is in the tunnel now, but Leo can’t seem to make him come back out. He tries both ends, but not until he pulls out a treat, does Cap obey.

“Come on, bud,” I whisper. “You can do it.” Something between a chuckle and a sob fights its way up my chest. Leo is back. And he’s… Yes, what exactly is he doing?

On my screen, the crowd cheers as Leo and Cap run the last stretch toward the finish, Cap, to my surprise, nailing the slalom obstacle.

The camera flips, and Micki’s face fills the screen again. “Did you see that?” she shouts. “Get. Over. Here. Now! Gotta go.”

She hangs up, and I waste no time. My tires spin against the slushy pavement as I peel out of the parking lot.

Between freeway congestion and the general haze of misfortunes that’s surrounded me like an ominous cloud lately, I’m convinced I’m going to miss the talent show until the moment I pull into the parking lot and Micki calls me again yelling about how they’re about to go onstage any minute.

The fairground is teeming with people dressed in winter coats and scarves, hats and mittens. Kids wear Santa hats and reindeer headbands with antlers, and the sun shines on it all, making the white ground sparkle.

The archway at the entry is clad in pine branches wrapped with a wide red ribbon, and two volunteers dressed as Christmas elves are handing out maps of the grounds. At regular intervals, the backdrop of cheerful voices is interrupted by the sound of sleigh bells coming from the pony-riding event to the far right of the parking lot.

“Candied nuts and pretzels!” a vendor calls out as I pass the first booth heading into the maze of festivities.

Dodging sugared-up children, bargain-hunting grandmas, and heart-eyed couples, I weave down the main lane past homemade ornaments, baked goods, and antique knickknacks like a gladiator through a gauntlet. The red barn rises like a friendly colossus in the distance, getting closer by the moment. I can do this. I can make it.

“Our favorite polyonymous pair is up next,” the MC calls, as I push through the doors and search the crowd nearest me for a familiar face.

“Cora, over here!” Micki is three sections away, halfway up the temporary stadium seating, waving like a maniac.

“’Scuse me. Sorry, I’m just gonna…” I squeeze up the risers and make my way to her. In my peripheral vision, Leo and Cap walk onto the stage.

“You made it.” Micki squeezes my arm.

I unravel my scarf and tuck it in my lap. “Don’t ask me how.”

“Let’s see what Captain Puppington has in store for us, shall we?” the MC muses.

“Why is he calling him that?” I ask Micki. “I registered him as ‘Cap.’”

“I may have elaborated.” Micki smiles. “Now shush. Things are about to get interesting.”

“You don’t actually think they stand a chance? Cap doesn’t have a talent.”

Micki shrugs. “The crowd loves him.”

We turn to the stage where Cap and Leo both look like they’ve stared too long at Medusa’s face. When the music starts, their rigid forms look even more out of place.

“He didn’t,” I gasp as the first few lines of Leo’s chosen song resound over the loudspeakers, and we all hear how they’re too sexy for my love.

Leo scans the crowd and runs his hand through his hair several times.

“Why aren’t they moving?” Micki asks.

“He’s freaking out.” I shove my knuckles between my teeth. “Shake it off,” I mumble. “Let your overachiever freak flag fly.”

Just then, Leo squares his shoulders and turns to Cap. He says something I can’t hear and gestures for Cap to sit.

Nothing happens.

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