“It’s a ball,” Gil said, as if she were very stupid, “that an armadillo makes. I’m a THREE-BANDED armadillo, so I can make a PERFECT ball. AND I can take my CLOTHES. And I don’t have LESPERY.”
What did clothes have to do with a ball? What waslespery? Clarice knew she was running out of time for her interrogation, and she felt like she’d squandered it. “Can you show me?” she said desperately.
Gil looked around. “You have to PROMISE not to tell,” he said in a stage whisper.
“Of course,” Clarice agreed. “Ipromise.”
Then Gil bounced off the bench and pitched forward onto the green, melting down into a little leathery ball with feet and tufts of fur. He tip-toed around delicately on long claws, twitching teardrop ears, and then sort of hopped in place and rolled into a perfect ball. His armored nose and ears completed the sphere almost seamlessly; even his tail tucked into place.
Clarice’s heart hammered in her chest. The adorable little boy had just turned into a…was an armadillo alizard? It was easier to wonder about its genus than it was to accept that the rocking globe was Gil.
Just as fast as he’d sucked into the orb, he popped out, and he stuck a very, very long tongue out of his narrow face and ran around in gleeful circles, looking like a roly poly dancer wearing high heels.
“GIL!”
Clarice looked up to find Bruno at the edge of the poolof light, clutching an armful of hot dogs, drinks, and single-serve bags of potato chips with a look of horror on his oddly-lit face.
26
BRUNO
Bruno ordered three hot dogs with all the fixings. If there were any Clarice didn’t like, she could pick them off. Gil was in aneat-anythingphase that Bruno was deeply grateful for. It made shopping a lot easier.
They came with a meal, so Bruno got a drink holder for the three cups, stacked the wrapped dogs carefully between them and piled them with the potato chip bags and napkins. Then he plunged into the neon maze to get back to his son, hoping that Gil hadn’t descended into a hunger-fueled fit and torpedoed any chance he had with Clarice.
The first thing he saw was Clarice, standing at the end of the course, her club gripped tight in both hands. For a split-second, he could simply appreciate her. The floor lighting limned her in bright colors and accentuated every curve. Her hair glowed green and purple, and her mouth was in a beautiful little O of astonishment.
Then he saw Gil, tapping around her feet gleefully as an armadillo.
“GIL!” Bruno’s arms spasmed around his load of foodand he ended up squeezing the tray into his own chest. The drink lids held, but one of the hot dogs ended up smashing against him. Bruno had only a moment to hope that the wrapping was secure and he wasn’t wearing too many condiments before he could straighten the tray and Gil was standing up as a boy again.
“HOT DOGS!” he crowed.
“Gil, what did youdo?”
Gil seemed to realize his mistake at that moment, and his face crumpled. “I TOOK MY CLOTHES!” he protested. “No one was around but MISS CLARICE and she’s okay! You LIKE her!”
Clarice was staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth a little agape.
“You aren’t supposed to shift in front ofanyone,” Bruno said, instantly regretting his tone when Gil burst into tears. “Here, have a hot dog. You too, Clarice. What’s done is done.Dammit,I’m wearing my ketchup. I mean, DARN IT.”
He gave Clarice the bag of chips that felt the least crushed and took the leaking hot dog for himself. Gil opened his bag of chips and dropped his soda, picking it up before too much could spill. Bruno felt bad for the staff that would end up cleaning the mess when they left. “I got you a Sprite,” he said, handing Clarice a cup. “They didn’t have ginger ale.”
He knew that he sounded growly and short and he didn’t blame Clarice for not meeting his eyes and for saying “Thank you” so meekly that Bruno barely heard her as she took her food and sat back down.
Bruno dabbed the worst of the ketchup off of his shirt and devoured his hot dog in a few bites standing up while Gil sniffled, drank his soda, and dropped most of his chips in his lap, ignoring the hot dog altogether.
“Don’t eat them off the floor,” Bruno cautioned, when Gil went after some fallen pieces.
“I was GOING to THROW them AWAY!” Gil snapped. He demonstrated by making four trips to the trash can with a single shard of chip from the floor each time. The fifth trip, he clearly forgot what he was doing and put the chip in his mouth. “OOPS.”
Clarice, who had been utterly silent, gave a wheeze like a tea kettle and broke into laughter, clutching her sides.
Bruno had to chuckle at first, and then a real belly laugh followed it, because Gil looked so surprised and Clarice’s merriment was so infectious.
When she had wiped tears away and sipped her soda to calm down, Clarice shook her head. “I can’t believe I just picked you up and put you in my car, Gil. I swear, I did not mean to kidnap your son, Bruno.”
She looked at him at last, and Bruno was relieved not to see horror or fear in her face, only wonder. “Can you do that, too? Can everyone at Tiny Paws? Is there a whole race of armadillo men in our midst?”
