Page 65 of The Ex Puck Bunny
I laugh out loud, startling a pigeon in the parking lot.
Instead of going back to my house, I head to Silver Queen Street. Even if Heidi isn’t home, I can help Mr. Rice with the Dodge.
It’s a beautiful spring day and even though Vohn put me through my paces training, I wouldn’t mind getting some grease under my nails.
I’m under the truck’s chassis when the scent of jellybeans wafts my way followed by a little girl’s happy giggle. Bunny bounces onto my belly nearly knocking the wind out of me.
“GG, guess who?” Bunny asks.
I play along. “Hmm. Is it a gorilla?”
“No.” She bursts into laughter.
“How about a unicorn?”
“A unee-corn would squish you, GG,” she says.
“Could it be the Easter bunny?”
“Not yet, but Grammy says the bunny will bring me a bas-kwet.”
I slide out from under the truck and with a tickle at the ready, I say, “If it’s not a gorilla, a unicorn, or the Easter rabbit, it’s BB.”
While Mr. Rice fiddles with the brake line that’s been leaking, Heidi tells me that she and her mom just got back from the store. “After we got party supplies, we went to the market.”
“I help-ted too,” Bunny says very matter of fact.
Heidi kisses her on the head. “You sure did. We wouldn’t have found those marshmallow Peeps without you. We nearly have everything for the Knights’ hashtag monster Peep challenge.”
“I’m not exactly sure what you have in mind but am afraid I’m going to regret this,” I say, taking a few of the bags and noticing the yellow neon fabric in the exact shade of the traditional marshmallow Easter candy along with about a dozen boxes of the stuff.
She lifts onto her toes and pecks me on the cheek. “You can thank Bunny. She gave me the idea and the fans are going to love it.”
That means we’ll be doing another team video soon. Thankfully, the guys have been playing along and no one’s ego has gotten in the way of being a bit goofy.
From the house, comes a shriek. I’ve never seen Mr. Rice move so fast as he hurries toward his wife.
Heidi, Bunny, and I hustle after him. I’m not sure whether to anticipate a mouse—she’s not a fan—or an ax murderer.
“It won’t stop,” Mrs. Rice yells over the rushing sound of water.
Water somehow pours out of the kitchen faucet and from under the sink at the same time.
Mr. Rice hollers. “The water main.”
There’s already half an inch of water covering the linoleum floor. Bunny splashes her feet in it while Heidi and I try to stem the flow and bail the water into the bathtub down the hall. Mrs. Rice drops towels and whatever linen is available onto the floor.
When Mr. Rice comes back, the water slows to a trickle.
“What happened?”
Fretting, Mrs. Rice says, “I don’t know. I brought in the grocery sacks and the sink was overflowing.”
“I didn’t leave it on after lunch. A pipe must’ve burst,” Mr. Rice says.
While they investigate and call a plumber, I pull out the wet-dry vac and help clean up while Heidi brings Bunny downstairs for her nap. But they’re back moments later, her expression stricken.
“Grandma and Grandpa have a pool.”
