Chelsey faints, her feet whizzing by my line of sight as I blink at Mayor Goodall, absolute shock rendering me motionless. “What do you mean?” I manage, voice hoarse. Peering out into the fields, I spot Jack right away, purple bunny suit nearly sparkling beneath the afternoon sun as he plucks a golden egg from the ground, passing it to a little boy.
Goodall points to the eave beneath the bakeshop, and I follow his line of sight, noticing a small black circle with a glowing center. “Cameras, Ms. Basquette. I filled Carrot Creek with cameras so I could find out who has been destroying thetown garden.” He gets even closer, his carrot breath making my stomach roil. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want Carrot Creek to know that their beloved handyman is actually a monster.”
Chelsey grumbles from the ground. “Shifter, not monster.”
“Were-bunny,” I correct, then narrow my gaze at Goodall, ready to call his bluff. I don’t want Jack to have to leave Carrot Creek, but in my heart, I believe the town loves Jack Hopper no matter what. And I’m about to show him and everyone else that very thing.
“Cancel the Eggstravaganza, Basquette.”
“Fuck off, Goodall,” Chelsey groans.
His eyes narrow. Mine narrow. In the distance, the instrumental songThe Good, The Bad and the Uglyplays, but I don’t blink. I don’t flinch. I stand strong and tall for my man-bunny, willing to go to the mattresses for him. He’s my mate after all.
“Order! Order!” he calls, gathering the attention of the folks around us. “Carrot Creek! Listen up! This is important!” He shouts, spit flying, temples pulsing. He faces the crowd of people, and Chelsey eyes me. We share a knowing glance, and she sneaks away, leaving me to face Goodall and the townspeople.
Goodall produces an iPad from an assistant nearby, and pulls up footage of Jack in the community garden from a few weeks ago, eating carrots.
“So what?” one voice calls.
“And?” Another adds.
“Sh, sh, just wait,” Goodall commands as I shift my weight nervously on my feet, nibbling the inside of my cheek. The sneaking around has been stressful, and trying to keep Jack out of the public eye has proved challenging. Carrot Creek is good people, and I believe the truth will resonate much more than any fabricated lie.
I know what’s going to happen on screen, so I instead cast my eyes to the crowd, to the moms in knit carrot sweaters, the dad’s wearing bunny ears, and the kids with baskets full of chocolates and toys. I watch their faces and– one little girl points, and every single set of eyes goes wide.
“He’s a bunny!” a girl calls.
“He turned into an animal?” one questions.
“He’s a monster! A devil! A creature from another world! It is unhuman to change from human to animal, and to think, he’s been hiding amongst us! Fixing our computers and pipes! Sneaking into our homes in his human disguise!” Goodall shouts, spreading his evil propaganda that is absolutely untrue.
Stepping toward the crowd forming, I’m ready to defend not just Jack but everyone who is different, everyone who lives outside of the expected form. But Goodall casts his finger my way, eyes wide. “And she’s going to tell you not to listen to me. But can we trust an outsider? Can we trust someone who isn’t even from Carrot Creek?”
Jack makes his way toward the pavilion, pieces of green grass clinging to the purple suit around his ankles and shins. With the bunny mask pulled down over his face, he comes to stand between myself and Chelsey, facing Goodall. The kids swarm him, begging to be picked up, swung, high-fived, chased, you name it.
Goodall cuts his eyes to the big purple bunny. “Are you under that mask? Is that you in there, is it, Hopper?” He reaches out, yanking the plastic mask from Jack’s face, the elastic breaking, snapping against his cheek. With the mask dangling from his hand, Goodall shoves the hood back, exposing Jack’s disheveled chestnut hair and wide, tawny eyes. His cheeks flood with color, embarrassed to be the focus, humiliated by the scene splayed over the screen.
“You don’t understand,” he starts, voice thinning as he frantically scans the sea of townsfolk. I survey their faces too but not a single one of them wears fear in their features, none of them look frightened, and in fact, the longer I look, the more curious they seem. Still, Jack’s hands begin to tremble and I realize my mate is facing his lifelong fear of being exposed, ridiculed and exiled.
Stepping out of the crowd, I climb onto a white folding chair, one draped in yellow crepe paper, and cup my hands to my mouth. “Carrot Creek, listen up!”
Faces turn, and Jack whispers for me to step down, to not fight his battles, to not this, that, and the other. But I don’t listen and instead, take the iPad that my sister hands me.
“This is Jack Hopper. Of everything Mayor Goodall said, the only thing that is true is that yes, this is Jack Hopper in the security footage. But if he were a monster, wouldn’t terrible things be happening in Carrot Creek? If he were a villainous heel, wouldn’t we hear stories of such? If Jack were a bad bunny, wouldn’t there be a ripple of disaster in his wake?” I look at Jack, and give him a soft smile.
“Jack Hopper is a were-bunny. He comes from a long line of them and guess where they are all from? Carrot Creek!” I face Jack, and prod him for answers to make my point that he is a vital part of this community, and no one to be feared or teased. “What was your dad’s name?”
Jack adjusts the mask nervously as he reties it and slips it back on. “Harry.”
“Harry Hopper, I remember him,” one silver-haired audience member murmurs. “Great guy.”
“Wasn’t that Jodie Hopper’s husband? Whatever happened to them?” another voice questions from the crowd.
Jack adjusts the hood on his head. “Yeah, um. Those are my parents. They left Carrot Creek years ago but they lived here for years before they married.”
“Great people,” an older woman says, smiling at Jack even though he’s in a mask and bunny suit.
“See?” I ask the townspeople. “Were-bunnies have been here for a long time and no one has been harmed or hurt from their presence. No one even knew.”
