I need to get out of here before everything starts going to hell.
“Thanks,” he said, as he hurried to the door.
This wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to me in the first place,his hellhound grumbled as Henry all but jogged back to his car.But no – you had to indulge yourself. What are you going to do if you start getting swarmed with squirrels and bats and hamsters?
I’ll deal with it when it happens,Henry snapped at the hellhound.I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not, okay?
I don’t think I’m helping,the hellhound muttered, wrinkling its nose.
Well, at least it was honest, Henry thought as he gritted his teeth, heading as quickly as he could toward his car. At least it wasn’t a long way to walk – just a few more steps, and then he’d be –
Someone – or something– slammed into his side just as he was reaching for the rusted handle of his car, his cakes balanced delicately in his other hand.
“Oof!”
Letting out an involuntary grunt of surprise as he was pushed off-balance by the sudden blow, Henry spent a valiant moment trying desperately to juggle his cakes before they spattered all over the sidewalk – and although hewassuccessful in saving them from that fate, he was less successful in keeping them off the front of his shirt.
The box, which had been sent flying upward by whatever had knocked into him, tipped between his two hands as he tried to catch it as if it had a life of its own, and now found its way firmly onto his chest – with the result that his shirt was smeared with cream, lemon cake – with its twist, of course – chocolate icing, sugar, spice, and everything nice. Though it was a littlelessnice when it was a cakey mash on the front of his shirt.
Henry stared down at it in dismay for a long moment.
My cake…
But then, acting purely on instinct, he dipped a finger into the mess, before lifting it to his mouth.
Okay. Still delicious. Wow. That is somegoodcake.
The flavors still held up even when smooshed together into a complete disaster area. He could still make out the richness of the chocolate, the lemony tang of the lemon cake, the freshness of the sugared cream.
But, more important than that –
What had knocked into him?!
A bear? A deer? A flying squirrel?!
He had his answer a moment later, when a hairy little bundle hurled itself into his arms, ferociously licking his face – thankfully missing the cake that was smeared all over his chest.
“Hey – wait – that’s bad for you, little guy!”
Grabbing the tiny bundle and pulling it away from him – which didn’t stop it from trying to slobber all over him as ityipped and wriggled in his hands – Henry finally got a good look at it…
… And found himself staring into the face of what had to betheugliest dog he’d ever seen in his life.
Chapter 2
Okay. Okay. It’s your firstrealassignment as a travel writer. You cannot mess this up. Youcannotmess this up!
Luna Hayes bit her lip as she guided her car into the parking space. For three years now she’d been building this career, in some of the least fashionable ways possible. When she told people she was a travel writer, they seemed to automatically assume a life of glamor and jet-setting, whizzing around the world to exotic locales, margaritas on the beach, lounging about in athleisure wear, writing reviews of the fanciest restaurants anyone had ever heard of – ornotheard of, since they weresoooooelite they were the exclusive domain of the ultra-rich… and the travel writers they had graciously allowed to enter their doors.
But no. That didn’t really give much of an accurate picture of Luna’s life, she had to admit.
No –herlife was much more like,I Stayed at the Top Ten Worst Hotels in London!(they really were bad!) andWorld’s Most Disgusting Foods – Ranked!(okay, at least with this one she’d gotten to expand her culinary horizons, and most of them hadn’ttasteddisgusting, they’d just looked it) andYou Won’tBelieve What Happened When I Swam in this River!(some kind of horrifying rash that had needed three weeks and a ton of topical cream to go away, that’s what had happened when she’d swum in that river).
Luna had always dreamed of being a writer, but she couldn’t really say thatthesewere the kinds of things she’d dreamed of writing. When she’d been offered the role, she supposed she’d thought more of… well, more the kinds of things most other people thought of when they heard the words ‘travel writer’.
And it was true – shewaspaid to travel. It was, in that way, a dream come true. Luna couldn’t complain about that at all. But what she’d wanted to do was write about other cultures, festivals, events – give people dreams to follow, and to promote everything the rest of the world – or just the country! – had to offer, and inspire people to go and see the places for themselves and learn more about the world.
Getting a rash from a stinky riverreallyhadn’t figured into it – but then, she guessed, at least people now knew not to swim in stinky rivers, so she’d probably saved someone out there a lot of time and topical cream.
