Chapter 31

Ava greets me with a kiss when I arrive backstage at work, which takes me by surprise. “I’ve decided I like kissing you better than Rafferty.”

I can’t deny her announcement massages my ego most ergonomically, and in my head I shout, “I am awesome!” and “Suck it, Rafferty!” But now that Zelda and I are maybe fast-tracking it to coupledom, I probably shouldn’t be letting Ava give me sugar behind the scenes.

The Extras grazing at the craft services table seem supportive, though, judging by their clapping and cheering.

“Nice to see you, too.” I squeeze her hand, but also step back. “So what’s on the docket for today?”

“We’re waiting for TropeTown to send over a dog to play Bruiser, and then we’ll take a walk with him in the park.”

Considering our wardrobe—T-shirts and sweatpants—I predict running and possible canine shenanigans.

“So this will be your first encounter with Bruiser?”

“First time meeting a dog ever!” She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Really?” It strikes me how limited Ava’s experience will always be. While as a Developed she has the privilege of touching Readers’ lives, she’ll be eternally stuck in a world only as large as what the Author gives her. As a Trope, I may not stick in Readers’ minds for long, but I’ve been given the potential for a much wider range of adventures. Of course, I’m greedy and I want more. Isn’t there a way to have it all?

“Oh, look! There he is!”

I glance over at the landing area and recognize a familiar blue windbreaker and sunglasses.

After the brown and white collie laps up an entire bowl of water, he trots over to us. “Hey—you’re the kid we mistook for a New Age Therapist. How’s therapy been treating you?”

Ava’s eyes widen in horror. Leave to a dog to let the cat out of the bag.

“Just fine, Bruiser,” I say through clenched teeth. I guess he hasn’t heard about our therapy being canceled, and I don’t exactly want to discuss that right now. “How’s yours?”

“Call me Sal.”

I cross my arms. “I wouldn’t expect a Legacy like yourself would go for such a minor role.”

“It’s essentially a cameo. A couple of days’ work at most. Good visibility in a projected blockbuster. Plus, I’m tired of doing death scenes.”

Ava kneels in front of him. “Is it okay if I scratch behind your ears? Dogs like that, right?”

“Starting out on the right paw,” Sal says.

While Ava acquaints herself with Sal, I change into my wardrobe. The pants the Author chose fit me in terms of size, but not personality, unless she means for me to wear the repetitive print of the high school’s snarling wolf mascot ironically. The plain but tight sweatshirt accentuates my chest, so I can hardly complain about that.

The green light beckons everyone to the stage, including the Extras. On the way, Bruiser shrugs out of his windbreaker and sunglasses, so he can act like a Reader World dog. Ava puts a collar on him and attaches a retracting leash.

The Author sketches the barest outline of a park. Trees, grass, running paths, and benches. The Extras mill around aimlessly while Ava and I stay on a dirt running path with Bruiser.

We run, Bruiser barking along beside us.

Nothing else happens for a while. The three of us wait for the Author to give us more to do. I imagine her staring at her screen, pondering what obstacles to throw in our way next to create tension and force us to overcome our challenges. Perhaps she sits at a desk, rereading coffee-stained notes to herself and toggling between her word processing tab and her social media accounts.

Ava doesn’t seem to be bothered by this state of perpetual delay. She sports the blissful smile and heavy eyelids of someone with a runner’s high.

I, however, develop a leg cramp.

The stage door opens and a new player, and another familiar face, joins our scene: the Stock Squirrel, in the process of removing his plaid bowtie.

I raise my hand to wave at the same time that the Author’s fingers begin to fly across her keys. This results in Bruiser gunning for the Stock Squirrel and yanking his leash right out of Ava’s grasp.

“Bruiser!” Ava shouts. “Bad dog!”

Ava and I finally catch up to him, but he wriggles away and puts us through a series of antics to rival the labors of Hercules, including:

1. Mucking about in the mud and then shaking it off on us
2. Chewing on the wheel of a stroller for which we receive a stern reprimand from a disgruntled mother
3. Ingesting a bar of chocolate someone dropped under a bench

Up until this last stunt, Ava and I laugh and forge a bond as a result of our trials. Bruiser finally allows Ava to catch him. She buries her face in his furry neck despite all the grime he acquired during his escapades.

“Dogs can’t eat chocolate, or they’ll die,” she chokes out. “I have to get him to the vet.”

I bend down and put my arm around her to comfort her. “I’ll take you. He’ll be fine.”

Ava shakes out of my embrace. Vehemently. “No. I’ll take him myself. This is all your fault, Marsden. If you weren’t so distracting, he never could have gotten away from me.”

“How was I distracting you?” I sputter.

“Don’t try to charm your way out of this.” She tugs on Bruiser’s leash. “You know what you did.”

“I really don’t,” I protest, but to no avail. Ava leaves the park without me, and as I watch her go, the clouds move to block out the sun.

Silence fills the soundstage and the green light blinks out.