“But they were mean. I bet they wouldn’t be so mean if they were at the bottom of my pond,”Tulip said, stomping her foot in the little puddle of water that’d formed under her.
“No, they would be dead because humans can’t breathe under water,”I whispered, hoping none of the other people milling around the area heard me saying that.“And we don’t kill people. Especially when they did nothing wrong.”
I held up my hand when Tulip opened her mouth to argue.
“No. Wanting a firm pickle and not liking iceberg lettuce aren’t punishable crimes.”Then I turned to Gideon, considering the conversation finished.“We’ll need to eat quickly if you want to get over to the stage for the announcement of the winners.”
“Yeah. I need to be there. Leon insisted.”Then he eyed Az and Tulip.“Please behave after we leave.”
Tulip harrumphed, but both she and Az conceded and agreed to give Perry some space. I suspected their self-control wouldn’t last long, but we couldn’t stay here all day and monitor them. Sometimes you just had to hope for the best and pray that by the end of the day, no one would be knocked on the head and hauled into a pond.
Chapter Two
Winners and Angry Losers
Gideon
Declan and I headed towards the stage, but I took one more glance back over my shoulder to make sure Az and Tulip were behaving. We all cared about Perry. Bigfoots weren’t just shy; they were also one of the kindest species alive, and I understood the urge to protect him from theKarensandChadsof the world, but this was what Perry wanted, so we needed to let him try it.
I was relieved to see Az and Tulip sitting at a picnic table off to the side, away from the food truck. Hopefully, they would stay there.
We made it to the stage area just as Leon was speaking. The crowd of people standing around wasn’t large, something I’m sure Leon would complain about, but the people who were there all seemed excited to see who won.
A few more stragglers were still wandering up. Malcolm Stewart walked up next to us, a scowl turning down his lips above his neatly trimmed beard. Seeing him down here with ussurprised me because I’d tasted his Dead Center Stout, and it was good. He wasn’t the friendliest guy around, but he knew how to make a tasty beer, and I thought he had a good chance at winning first place.
“Hey, Malcolm. Shouldn’t you be up there with the other brewers?” I pointed at the stage where Ivan, Tessa, Roy, and a few others stood waiting.
He scoffed. “When I arrived with my growler full of stout, they informed me they never received my application so they wouldn’t accept my entry.”
“Oh, I hate to hear that. Your brew was good. Will you be selling at your booth?”
“I will. I have a couple of varieties available and Bull’s Eye Brewery t-shirts as well, but I was hoping to win the distribution deal that’s part of the prize. I’m a great brewmaster, but I don’t know much about the business side of things. Plus, the money would’ve been nice.” He let out a tired sigh.
He wandered off to talk to someone else, and I looked down at Declan. “That’s a shame for him, but good news for the other contestants. He was some serious competition.”
Declan grinned at me. “We can stop by his tent and try his beer. Maybe if we buy some, it’ll cheer him up, and he’ll realize he shouldn’t give up.”
He was like a ray of sunshine, so positive and thinking things would work out for the best. How he managed that after his parents kept the knowledge of magic from him, I had no idea, but it was one of the things I loved about him.
“I own a pub, Declan. I don’t need to buy beer.”
“Of course you don’t.” He patted me on the arm. “But you will, right?”
Like there was a chance I would tell him no. “Yeah, I will.”
He beamed at me, and that was well worth the price of a few bottles of ale. Someone standing right in front of us, turned andglared at us before putting her finger to her lips and shushing us. Apparently, unlike most of the people here, she wanted to hear what Leon was saying. But it wasn’t nice to be rude, so I turned my attention to his speech.
“I’m so excited to see so many visitors to our wonderful little town. Not a lot of people knew we had such talented brewmasters here in Ravenstone, but I did, and I’m so glad to be able to introduce the public to their amazing products. But before I announce the winner of the first annualGet Hopped UpBeer Festival, I want to remind you that there are plenty of vendors here with ales, lagers, stouts, and everything in between for you to try, so be sure and check them out.”
Leon turned and picked up three envelopes, then he looked out over the small crowd. Leon could’ve been announcing the winner of a Grammy for the amount of ceremony he’d built around three envelopes.
He paused between each name with the theatrical gravity of a man who’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. I supposed, in a way, he had. Leon didn’t do anything by halves, particularly when it came to his festivals.
“Third place goes to...” Another pause. The woman in front of us, who’d shushed me, leaned forward like she might tip over. “Tessa Morland’s Thirsty Thrower Brewery for her Wheel of Wheat Blackberry Ale!”
Applause rippled through the crowd. Tessa, a small woman with silver-streaked locks and paint-stained fingers, pressed both hands over her mouth before raising them in triumph. She was a local—ran the pottery studio two streets over—and the crowd’s warmth for her was genuine.
Declan clapped enthusiastically beside me.
