“Did she just call us wackadoos?” asked Diego.
“I think so,” answered Jenn.
“This is a momentary distraction,” said Marcus. “I know it. You know it too. Next week they’ll all be obsessing over some new TikTok dance or one of those stupid challenge things where they dump a bucket of ice water on their heads.”
“People might surprise you,” I said, not backing down. I knew that for a fact because I had even surprised myself.
“Yes, well, the numbers don’t support your confidence,” said Marcus. “Our projectionsfor the curated authenticity expansion are quite clear. Thirty-eight million in first-year revenue alone. Do you really think we’re going to just give that up because of some half-baked festival?”
Victoria stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Samantha, you realize LuxeLife has an entire army of lawyers at our disposal. We will use the full resources of our corporation to push this development through. The Adventure Center will be gone, and no one will even care or notice.”
Victoria stepped back and smiled, letting the weight of her threats settle in. She was right, of course. LuxeLife had more money, more lawyers, more corporate resources than we could ever hope to fight against.
But then, as if on cue, Parker’s massive screen shifted from the grouse footage to a comment feed from the event’s livestream. Messages scrolled past too quickly to read them all, but certain phrases jumped out:
“Does the resort offer grouse viewing tours? Trying to book now!”
“Tried to reserve a room for next month but the website says you’re sold out??”
“My daughter has a school project on endangered species. Can we visit the disco chicken???”
Victoria’s head whipped toward the screen. “What is that? Where are those comments coming from and what exactly are they talking about?”
Marcus frowned at his phone, fingers flying across the screen. “This can’t be right. The booking system shows we’re at capacity for the next three months. That’s impossible.”
“Not impossible,” Parker said, stepping forward with hisiPad. He turned the screen toward Victoria, displaying graphs and analytics. “The festival livestream has driven over a thousand unique visitors to the booking portal in the last three hours alone.”
Maya moved to stand beside me, her professional manager’s smile locked in place. “If I recall correctly, Victoria, you promised to extend the Adventure Center’s contract if Sam and Noah increased revenue and helped you make your booking targets.”
“Yes, but they didn’t,” Victoria snapped. “After their little osprey rescue, they never budged.”
“Until now,” Parker interjected, swiping to a new screen on his tablet, “and the numbers are still climbing.”
Marcus’s expression soured as he consulted his phone. “He’s right.”
“What exactly is going on?” asked Victoria.
Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Maya scratched hers. “Well …
The crowd fell silent all around us. Blank stares all around.
“Can anybody tell me what’s happening right now?” shouted Victoria.
Realization dawned on me like the sunrise breaking over the mountains. “I can.”
“Can what, Samantha?” Up until that point, the way Victoria was staring at me would have made me crumble. But this time when I looked her in the eyes, I noticed something I didn’t think was even possible. There it was, on her forehead. A tiny bead of sweat. “Tell me, Samantha. What the hell is going on?”
“We missed it,” I said, gesturing at the scrolling comments from the livestream. The festivalgoers all stared at me, nervous chatter grinding to a halt. “We all did.”
“What are you talking about?” Another bead rolled down Victoria’s forehead.
“We had thewhatand thehow,” I said. “What we didn’t have was thewhy.”
Noah looked confused. “I don’t understand, Sam.”
From the looks on all the faces, neither did anyone else.
