I'd boasted enough about my pitching skills that by the time the young guy running the game booth handed me the baseball, I had lost all confidence. My pitching arm was a good deal older and more out of shape than it had been in high school.
Jackson crossed his arms, waiting for me to throw the greasy, small ball at the tower of very heavy looking milk bottles on the back wall of the booth.
"Now, remember, the last time I played ball, I was still wearing a retainer and the occasional splash of zit cream. Not to mention, we girls throw the ball underhand, something that is not possible at this angle," I said in an effort to lower his expectations.
His gaze drifted to the top of the pyramid of unicorns. "I've already picked the one I want. It has a rainbow horn and blue bow, and I'm naming him Rocco. And, as I recall, you have a dog named Newman who keeps you in good practice."
"Right. Stupid Newman, you blew my cover," I muttered. I positioned my feet and shuffled them back a few times like I used to do for luck on the pitcher's mound. I peered up at the unicorn with the blue bow. "This one's for you, Rocco." I pulled my arm back and fired the ball at the set of bottles. They splattered in every direction. The last one on the bottom corner rocked side to side for a brief second and then fell over like a reluctant tree being cut in the forest.
"Woo hoo!" I cheered. "I've still got it." I threw my arms up and quickly rubbed my right shoulder. "Ouch. I don't remember that pain when I was eighteen."
Jackson pointed Rocco out to the kid, who looked rather stunned at my throw. "Wow, she's pretty good for her age," he said as he handed Jackson the toy.
Jackson took my hand and spun me away from the game booth before I could respond to the kid's comment.
"My age," I grumbled. "I'd like to see that kid knock those bottles down with one throw."
"I have to say, that was pretty darn impressive, Bluebird." Jackson handed me the unicorn. "Now, hold Rocco. I see one of the uniformed officers who was assigned carnival security detail. I'm going to get an update on any problems and see if he needs anything."
"Don't you want to take your new friend along for an introduction?" I held up the unicorn to let him know I was talking about Rocco and not myself.
"Not sure if I could live it down at the precinct. I'll be right back."
I strolled down the middle aisle of game booths, with no particular purpose or destination. I stopped near the fortune teller's tent. Seeing it reminded me of Raine, which reminded me that Lana was going to need my help tonight. The carnival was getting more crowded and somewhat overrun with teenagers. I had a farm and a sister to look after, so it was probably best to cut the day short.
I pulled out my phone to text Lana when two women swooshed past me so fast, I nearly dropped it. The women, one who was possibly in her early twenties and another in her mid to late forties, were wearing matching neon pink t-shirts, the same Wright Electric shirts as Queen Melinda's fiancé, Sutton Wright. The younger woman's hair and skin tone was similar to Sutton's, and it was easy to deduce they were brother and sister, or, at the very least, related. They were so deep in a tense conversation, they hadn't noticed that they nearly smacked into me. They wore serious expressions as they went into Madame Cherise's tent. It seemed they were in urgent need of a fortune telling.
I sent a text to Lana. "I'm at the carnival with Jackson, but we'll be leaving soon. I'll bring you some dinner after I check on the farm."
She rang me back. "Had to call," she said. "Too hard to text with one hand."
"Oh wow, I hadn't thought of that. How are you feeling?"
"My whole arm hurts but I'll live. I called to let you know that Raine is bringing me a submarine sandwich, so I won't need dinner. But if you want to come help fill party favor bags, I wouldn't say no."
"Sure, I can do that." Jackson's tall, dark head towered over most everyone else as he lumbered back toward me. "I've got to stop by the farm first."
There was a ruckus behind me. I looked back over my shoulder. The queen and her apparent entourage were making their rounds, handing out stickers and free balloons to kids. I stepped out of their way. Melinda stopped to show a few women her ring, and the oohs and ahhs followed.
"Jeez, I'm sorry about that, Sunni. I should be helping you with the farm," Lana said.
"Not a big deal, although Emi stuck King Harold in with the hens and . . . well . . . there was a short, fierce battle with an empty feed bucket. I lost, by the way."
Lana snickered. "Oops, sorry, I shouldn't laugh. It's the pain killer. I've faced down that beast a few times, and he is scary. Take a broom in next time. The bucket allows him to get too close. And as Nick once told me, King Harold can smell fear a mile away, so act casual as if you couldn't care less about him."
Jackson reached me and waited while I finished my call.
"All brave words from a woman sitting on her couch, loopy on pain pills and waiting for her dinner to be delivered. But thanks, I will try the broom trick. Hey, I've got to go. I'll see you in a few hours."
"I'll be here," she sighed.
Jackson took hold of Rocco and pushed him under one arm while dropping his free arm around my shoulder. "Was that Lana?" he asked.
"Yes. She advised me to take a broom into the chicken yard, so I have a fighting chance against King Harold."
He nodded. "Sounds like solid advice. How is she feeling?"
"She sounded a little depressed, but Raine is bringing her a sandwich. I'm going over there later to help with some party favors. Did the officer have any problems to report?" I asked as we headed through the maze of people.
"No problems. Looks like it's going to be a trouble-free week at the carnival."