Page 50 of False Start

Kit paused in front of the movie theater, tilting her head at the T-Rex in the ticket booth, a jaunty-striped pillbox hat balanced on its head.

“They even made money!” She tapped on the window, gesturing to the open register in front of the dinosaur and the stacks of bleached colored bills with a velociraptor in a powdered white wig in the center. “There’s got to be an amazing place to take a photo around here.”

She whirled around, eyes narrowing before lighting up. “Oh! There!”

I followed her extended finger to the green space between the post office and diner, where a dilapidated gazebo held three white spheres. She took off at a jog and I followed.

“Ah,” I said. “Eggs.”

“They’re so cute!” Kit squealed over the tiny stegosaurus emerging from the egg on the left. On the right, a baby pterodactyl clung to the shell. The center egg sat empty but cracked open.

Kit wriggled her way inside the center egg, her head popping out of the top. “It’s the perfect picture.”

I snapped a half-dozen pictures as Kit cos-played a baby dinosaur before she wormed her way back out and grabbed my phone. “Your turn.”

I eyed the egg.

Sure, it was big enough for Kit to fit inside, but probably not me. And while I didn’t mind a few somewhat humiliating pictures, baby dinosaur Trent was a little much. I shook my head.

“Come on, Texas.” Her voice drawled out the nickname before she jutted out her bottom lip. The combination coaxed me into at least attempting to fit inside the egg.

I groaned. “Fine. One picture.”

The egg was clearly built for a smaller person with narrower shoulders. I wriggled my legs inside, but my torso caught on the jagged edge of the shell. Kit snapped a few pictures, giggling all the while.

“You don’t look like you’re hatching so much as escaping.” She laughed as she took another picture. “I think we should post one of these.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I promise your fan girls are gonna love these pictures. Adore them.”

“Nope.” I braced myself against the egg, leaning forward. As I pushed up, the waistband of my sweats yanked down, caught somewhere inside the egg. “Shit. I think I’m stuck.”

Kit’s eyes grew wide and mischievous. “You’re stuck? In the egg?”

“Something’s snagged my pants.” I plunged my hands inside the shell, running my fingertips along anywhere I could reach, which admittedly wasn’t much. My second attempt at standing was even less successful than my first, and my pants bunched around my knees. I sat back down. “Can you give me a hand?”

She bit her bottom lip, eyes darting between the phone and me.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned. “You can’t post those pictures.”

She took a half-step forward and peered into the egg. “You’re really stuck?”

“Why would I make that up?”

She leaned away, eyes shifting to the phone. “Just one second, and I’ll help.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said as her fingers flew across the screen. “You don’t even know the right hashtags.”

“You can add them later.”

I swiped at her with my hand, catching her knee and pulling her toward me. Her mouth formed an O of surprise as she lifted the phone over her head before dancing out of my grip with a laugh.

“Nice try, Texas, but looks like I’m quicker than you,” she teased, stepping back far enough that I couldn’t try again.

“You’re not quicker than me,” I grumbled.

“I am speed.” She shot me a toothy smile before turning her attention back to the phone.

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