Page 29 of Hot Shot

“Be careful,” Beck adds, as if Hayden is the most precious thing in the world to him.

Which she actually is.

I have no doubt of that.

Hayden tosses her ponytail and resumes her careful bouncing. “This is fun.”

“Let’s go to the foam pit,” Beck says. “You can try some flips there.”

“No way.” Hayden shakes her head, her eyes alarmed.

“Come on,” Beck coaxes. “Take a chance.”

Hayden wavers. “Okay. Come on, Carrie.”

We all bounce off the trampolines and head to the pit filled with big chunks of colorful foam.

“I’ll go first,” Beck says. He bounces across the trampoline and then launches himself in a flip into the pit, disappearing. His head pops up seconds later.

“Good job,” Hayden calls to him.

He hauls himself out. “Now your turn.”

“Eeek.” She cautiously bounces to the edge and then jumps, appears to change her mind about trying to do a flip at the last second, and lands on her butt in the foam.

Beck doubles over with mirth, everyone else laughing too. “What was that?”

Hayden fights her way through the foam and tries to climb out, falling back in a couple of times because she’s laughing so hard. Finally Beck, also still guffawing, goes and grabs her hand and hauls her out.

“Go, Supermodel,” I say.

“No,yougo.”

I shrug, take a run, bounce high, and fling myself into the pit. I emerge grinning.

Carrie makes a scrunched-up face, then bounces to the edge and leaps. Surprisingly, she does a pretty graceful flip and disappears into the foam. She, too, pops up with a big smile on her face.

“That was so good, Carrie!” Hayden cries. “I want to try again.”

On my next turn, I call, “Watch this . . . a sidewinder.” I bounce sideways twice and do a sideways flip.

“Show-off,” Carrie calls when I rise out of the pit.

I grin. This is fun.

We’re heading to the dodgeball pit when a little kid comes flying off a trampoline and onto the walkway, landing in a heap. We all freeze, staring at him, then I rush over to the boy, who starts to cry.

“Hey, little man, you were really flying there. You okay?”

The dude cries harder. I quickly check him over, but he’s moving okay, so if he’s hurt it’s not serious. I pick him up and prop him on my hip. Tears run down the child’s round, pink cheeks and he grabs onto my shirt. “You’re okay,” I say soothingly. “You’re fine, buddy. Where’s your mom or dad?”

A woman rushes up to us. “Oliver, what were you doing?”

“He was trying to fly, weren’t you?” I say with a smile.

The little dude nods and swipes at tears. “I did fwy.”

I smile. Damn, he’s cute.

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