“Aren’t you going to get ready to play?” He casts a questioning glance at the rifle she’s yet to pick up.
Daphne wrinkles her nose. “I’ll just watch.”
“If you’re just going to watch, we should team up. Here, you hold the barrel while I pull the trigger. That way you don’t have to do it alone. I know it’s strange holding such a large weapon for the first time, but it will be fun if we do it together.”
I bristle at his words. First he asks her how he should grip his rifle. Now he’s asking her to hold hislarge weaponfor him. I flex my fingers, my eyes boring into the side of Conrad’s head.Not one more insidious reference, you cunty bastard.
With a grumble, Daphne moves closer to Conrad.
“You can sit in my lap if you want?—”
And that’s the last fucking straw.
I clamp my cigarillo between my lips, reach for the rifle at the empty shooting station before me, swivel, aim, and fire.
The smallest bubble on the mossy panel bursts with a loud pop.
The other players turn startled gazes toward me.
“It’s not that fucking hard,” I snipe at Conrad.
“You!” shouts the dryad at the far end of the stall. She’s one of the youthful types with a humanoid figure and long strands of willowy green hair. With a dark glower, she turns a crank under the counter and a new bubble grows to replace the one I popped. The vine that had begun to grow beside the rifle shrinks down to a bud. “I didn’t say you could start yet. Take your seat.”
I’m about to tell her I’ve no intention of playing when Daphne bounds over to me, eyes bright as she stares down at the weapon in my hands. “That actually looks fun!”
“To your stations!” the dryad shouts, signaling the game is about to begin.
With an excited squeal, Daphne scrambles into the open seat next to me and takes up the rifle at her station. I meet Conrad’s disappointed stare and grin back at him. I hold his gaze without falter as I finish my cigarillo and extinguish the butt beneath the heel of my shoe. Then I take my seat beside Daphne and lean toward her. “How about a game between just the two of us? Whichever of us loses owes the other a favor.”
A vicious boldness curves her lips. “You’re on.”
The dryad shouts for us to begin just as a jangling, mechanical tune begins to play behind the counter. I swear this carnival utilizes the most ear-shattering music to disrupt players’ concentration. Yet I manage to hit three out of my first five targets.
“How are you so good at this?” Daphne says, her voice rich with laughter as it carries over rifle shots and music.
“I’ve gone hunting before,” I say, lining up my next shot and popping one of the larger bubbles. My vine has grown elbow-high already. “It’s an aristocratic pastime.”
“I’ve gone hunting before too.” She shoots off several rounds, only hitting one target. “I’ve probably killed more prey than you.”
“Yes, well, I’ve hunted with a rifle.”
“This can’t be much different. I just need to find my prey’s weakness.” She shoots again. Again. Her next shot pops another bubble. She lets out a proud squeal. “I get it now! The problem is the looky thing.”
“The sight,” I amend.
“Whatever it’s called, it’s inaccurate. I have to aim to the right of where it shows.”
I’m sure she’s correct. Knowing carnival games are almost always rigged, I haven’t bothered using the sight at all. I give her a teasing smirk before I pop my next target. “You may have figured out the trick, but I have a head start.”
She ignores me, taking aim with precision and popping her next six targets. Her vine is as high as her shoulder while mine is maybe only a foot taller. She’s catching up to me.
Yet I remain calm and pop my next target.
Daphne releases a frustrated growl, then half rises from her seat to prop her knee upon it, elbows on the counter. When her next shot misses, she growls again.
I chuckle at her annoyance, popping another target with ease. “Don’t be too hard on yourself when you lose, Daffy Dear. I’ll make sure the favor I ask of you isn’t too humiliating.”
She huffs a laugh. “Don’t get too confident. I haven’t lost yet.” With that, she rises further from her seat, props her foot on it, and hikes the hem of her skirt clear up to her thigh.
