Page 75 of Worst in Show

We’ve just entered the park when Micki and Donna catch up to us.

“No way” is the first thing Micki says. “You guys coordinated? Look at you.” She spreads her hands as if presenting us.

“It wasn’t intentional. Where’ve you been? I thought you were stopping by the store?”

“I tried once, but it was too crowded, and then we ran into some other friends. You’re not mad?”

I assure her I’m not.

“There’s a beer tent at the end of the walk that has karaoke. You guys should join us,” Donna says.

“Oooh, that would be fun.” I turn to Leo. “I hereby challenge the king to an epic karaoke battle.”

“Seriously, did you know she was going to be Belle?” Micki asks Leo. “Or was this a serendipitous accident?”

“I didn’t know,” he says. “About the costume or the karaoke. My people neglected to pass on that information.”

“But you’ll come?” Micki asks me. “It’ll be fun.”

I glance at Leo. “Maybe in a bit,” I say. “We’re going to grab some food first.”

Micki looks from me to Leo and back, a sly smile pulling at her cheeks. “You do that. See you guys later.” She backs away. “Or not.” She winks at me.

When they’re gone, I nudge Leo’s elbow with mine as we head toward the food trucks. “So, you and me, a sing-off. What’s the bet going to be?”

“Ah, I don’t know.”

In the distance, music spills out of the beer tent—a terrible rendition of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” “Come on. I’m positive you can do better than that.”

He gives me a self-deprecating smile. “Unfortunately, we will never know. This is one bet I’m afraid I’ll have to forfeit.”

I feign shock. “You? Forfeiting?”

“I don’t do singing. Or stages. And especially not singing on stages.”

“Are ya’ scared?” I make a chicken noise.

“Well…”

“Afraid people won’t take you seriously anymore?” Cluck, cluck.

“Ah, ha, ha.” He scratches his tilted head, peering at me. “Sorry. Salingers work hard. We’re not as good at playing.”

He means it. I’m more disappointed by this than I should be, even though a forfeit technically means another won bet for me.

Leo gets us hot cider and elephant ears that we eat on a bench not far from where we first ran into each other.

“I meant to ask, how was lunch? Did you do any training?” I pull off a piece of fried dough and chew carefully, trying to avoid getting powdered sugar all over Leo’s jacket that he loaned me when I got cold. Grandma’s stole is not as warm as I’d thought.

“Ha! Tilly refused. I think she missed Cholula. The food was great as usual, though.” His lips press together briefly. “Bennett stopped by the store earlier—not sure if you saw.”

“I don’t think so. What did he say?”

“You’re in for it now, Useless,” he says in a mocking tone. “Wouldn’t let me explain.”

I resist the urge to reach out and touch his arm. “That bites. Um, why does he call you Useless? He did it last night, too. Seems rude.”

Leo hesitates but then acquiesces, tipping his crown to me. “John Leopold Eustace Salinger the third. Nice to meet you.”

---