“IT’S A ROCKET! I’m going to get a HOLE IN ONE! I MISSED! I get to try AGAIN!”
It wasn’t until they got to the final holes that he began to flag. “I DON’T LIKE GOLF,” he said in frustration when Bruno had hit his own ball in. “THE HOLES ARE TOO SMALL. I’M HUNGRY. CAN WE GO HOME NOW?”
“Why don’t you and I help each other with this run,” Clarice offered. “Your dad can go get you a hot dog.”
Bruno shot her a grateful look that she probably couldn’t see in the dark. “That sounds like a great idea. Do you want one, too?”
“You know, that does sound good,” Clarice agreed. “I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“Hot dogs all around!” Bruno said. “I’d better get there before concessions close.”
He pulled out the map and made his way back acrossthe courses, smiling foolishly as he went. The afternoon had gone more smoothly than he had any reason to expect. Maybe Clarice really was a perfect fit for their family. Then he remembered that he was leaving Clarice with Gil at his tired, hungry worst, and he broke into a jog.
25
CLARICE
Clarice had already resigned herself to being head over heels with Bruno, but she hadn’t expected to be so taken with Gil. The little boy was cute and frequently hysterically funny, even (maybe especially!) when he didn’t mean to be. He had better manners than Clarice expected, and he apologized adorably when he ran into someone (which happened several times).
He threw himself into the golf game with enthusiasm, and clearly improved as they played. Improvement from rock bottom was still pretty bad; Gil obviously wasn’t going to be some kind of mini golf prodigy.
Clarice liked the way Bruno kept the game from being high-pressure, and was glad when they decided to stop keeping score and just celebrate every little victory.
Clarice couldn’t say that they had any kind of meaningful conversation, given the circumstances, but she jumped at the opportunity to get Gil alone. It was getting late and by the sounds in the darkness, Clarice suspected they were the last players in the building.
“Good job, Gil!” she crowed, when he was able to sink the shot that she’d carefully set up for him. “You won this hole!”
Gil did an elaborate victory dance that involved chicken wings and whooping. There was a picnic table by this strip and Clarice sat down on it and patted the seat beside her. “You played a good game,” she said.
Gil plopped himself next to her, his legs swinging wildly. “I’m GOOD at SPORTS!” He considered. “Well, SOME sports. Sports I’m GOOD AT.”
Clarice knew she didn’t have a lot of time before Bruno came back. “How do you like it at Tiny Paws?” she asked.
“It’s okay,” Gil said, still swinging his legs. “I like the snacks. And the art. And the play time in the back yard. And my friends!”
“Can your friends teleport, too?”
“Only Jackson.”
Clarice had expected more resistance than that. “Jackson canteleport?”
“He’s not very good at it,” Gil said scornfully.
“But you are, I guess?”
“I can’t TELEPORT,” Gil scoffed.
Clarice picked her words carefully. “What CAN you do, then?”
Gil went suddenly still and Clarice could all but feel the prickles of his sudden reservation. She had pushed too hard.
Then he seemed to relax and his legs resumed swinging, like he’d just received some kind of outside okay. “I can be a BALL.”
“Aball.” Clarice abruptly remembered the leathery ball she’d found outside of Tiny Paws. She hadn’t found it in her car again so she assumed she’d just missed it, feeling around in the box. “What kind of ball? Agolfball?”
Gil laughed outrageously. “NO!” he said gleefully. “An ARMADILLO ball!”
Clarice blinked at him. What was an armadillo ball? Was she misunderstanding his words? He did have a bit of a lisp, and when he spoke quickly, he was hard to follow. “What’s an armadillo ball?”
