Harper looked longingly at a chair in the back of the room.
“Would you like to sit down?”
She pressed her lips together. “No, thank you. I’ll watch for a while longer. Some of these people are really good.”
“I know. I’m glad I don’t have to make the decision. Getting it down to thirty will be a challenge.” The second round, held in just one week, would be comprised of longer routines and some acrobatics.
“Red number two, coming up now,” said Mike.
Sheila chewed on her cheek. Harper clasped her hands together. From here, the man looked to be in his late sixties with salt-and-pepper hair and slightly stooped shoulders. He bounded onto the stage wearing a Tarzan costume and a clown mask.
“Oh, yeah, this guy looks crazy,” said the director as the clown face filled the Jumbotron. Behind the mask, his eyes were yellow and darted back and forth.
The music started, signaling that his one-minute tryout had begun. Instead of dancing, he grabbed the one shoulder strap of his costume and ripped downward. The fur fell away, leaving him naked on stage.
Harper gasped.
Sheila snatched up her phone. “Security!”
“On it,” replied Greg. Three uniformed men approached the stage, looking to corner the streaker. He saw them coming and bounded off the back, headed for the outfield. The crowd roared with laughter, pointing and cheering him on.
Harper’s hand went to her head. “There are children in the audience.”
Sheila looked closer at the fans, seeing fathers shielding their daughters’ eyes. She glanced up in time to see the guards reach for their Tasers. “You can’t tase him in front of the children,” she barked into her phone. A naked man convulsing on the grass could scar them for life. The security guards heard her through their earpieces, and their hands dropped away from their belts. The smallest of the three pounced, tackling the man to the ground.
Sheila and Harper cringed in unison.
“This is a family park,” Harper lamented. “We can’t have parents afraid to bring their children here.” Harper swallowed loudly and then crumpled to the floor. One hand was on the windowsill and her other was on her heart as if it were racing beyond control.
Sheila was next to her in an instant, the cold tile floor hard against her knees. “Are you okay?”
“I need to lie down,” she panted. Sweat gathered on her forehead.
“Here?” Sheila scanned the floor. It appeared clean, but … Sheila hit the button on her phone to talk to everyone. “If Coach Wolfe is in the park, I need him in the booth STAT.”
“He’s on his way,” answered someone she didn’t recognize.
Sheila looked for something that would help and spied an unopened water bottle next to Mike. Leaning forward on her knees, she snatched it from the counter and cracked it open. She could get Mike more water later. “Here, take a drink.”
Harper took the bottle and downed half of it. “This is so embarrassing.” She swiped at her forehead.
Above them, the program continued. The streaker was removed. Over the speaker, Sheila heard Brock ask one of the questions she’d typed up for him. Her heart warmed just hearing his voice. What she wouldn’t give for one of his lingering hugs right about now.
Coach Wolfe arrived, sweating as much as Harper. He must have sprinted the five flights of stairs. “Honey.” He knelt next to her, cupping her face and pushing her hair off her forehead.
“Is she sick?” Sheila asked. “Should I call Doc Burningham?”
Harper shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m fine.” She drank the rest of the water and handed Sheila the empty bottle.
“You shouldn’t be here,” admonished Coach.
“I had to.”
He shook his head in reproach even as he kissed her hair. “It’s too much.”
She lifted her chin and they locked gazes, Coach’s eyes full of worry, Harper’s full of determination. “What, am I supposed to let go?”
Not the Redrocks!Sheila wanted to scream. She rocked back on her heels. Questions burned in her mind. They teased her tongue, begging to be let loose. However, it was obvious by the vagueness of the conversation happening in front of her that these two didn’t want her in on what was going on.
