Twenty-two children erupt into the most enthusiastic applause I’ve ever heard at a birthday party, and I’ve done a lot of birthday parties.
“Snugglesaurus! Snugglesaurus! Snugglesaurus!”
Leo straightens. Through the mesh window, I can see him smiling.
Twenty-two children are chanting the name of a man in an inflatable dinosaur suit, and Leo Brennan is smiling like he’s just discovered something he didn’t know he’d lost.
I need to look away.
I don’t look away.
“Well!” I say, finally clapping my hands to regain control of the situation. “Snugglesaurus is clearly an excellent dancer! Now it’s your turn. The Golden Bone passes to everyone—show meyour best dinosaur moves, and Snugglesaurus will choose his favorite dancer to receive a special prize!”
The children scatter across the room. I start the music again. They stomp and roar and wave their arms.
But something happens that I didn’t anticipate.
The children keep looking at Leo for approval. When he bobs his enormous head in their direction, they beam. When he mimics one of their moves, they glow with pride.
Somewhere in the last five minutes, the power dynamic in the room has shifted.
The children don’t care about Professor Giggles and his Golden Bone anymore.
They care about Snugglesaurus.
The song ends. The children collapse in giggling heaps, exhausted from their dinosaur exertions.
“Wonderful dancing, everyone!” I announce.
“And now, while you get your breath back, it’s time for some more entertainment,” another voice speaks up. It’s Leo a.k.a. Snugglesaurus.
I snap my head to look at him.
“What you don’t know about Professor Giggles is that he’s exceptionally good at talking in rhyme. And do you know what happens when you put rhyme to music? It turns into rap!”
I freeze.
Twenty-two faces swivel toward me with the kind of eager anticipation usually reserved for Christmas morning or the announcement of extra playtime.
“Rap?” I repeat, my voice coming out slightly strangled.
“Rap!” Leo confirms, his voice carrying that boardroom authority even through the mesh of a dinosaur mouth. “Professor Giggles is famous for his dinosaur raps. He’s been saving it as a special surprise.”
“I don’t know if special surprise is the right term for my rapping,” I say faintly.
“He’s modest.” Leo addresses the children now, and I watch in horror as he works the room like he’s pitching to investors. “But I’ve heard him practicing. He’s incredible. Aren’t you excited to hear Professor Giggles rap?”
“Yes!” twenty-two voices scream.
A little girl in the front row starts chanting. “Rap!Rap!Rap!”
It spreads like wildfire. Within seconds, the entire room is chanting. Parents are filming on their phones. Thomas’s mother is looking at me with an expression that says, “This better be good because I’m paying you two hundred pounds.”
I am going to kill Leo Brennan.
I am going to deflate his dinosaur suit and use it to smother him in his sleep.
“I don’t actually…” I start.
