Twice The Trouble

Chapter 58: Transition

Stacy

When we reached a concession stand where they sold beverages, I ordered another soda, careful not to bump into anyone and vice versa. My raglan shirt was ruined enough as it is.

I surveyed the indoor amusement park while Bryce also ordered his own drink from the stand.

We were in the north quadrangle, so I was able to witness the long lines for The Viking and The Caterpillar. I absolutely loved carnival rides, especially the kinds that make you scream.

The Viking was my personal favorite. The ride is based on a pirate ship, consisting of an open seated gondola, which swings back and forth, subjecting the riders to angular momentum.

It had no seat-belts, making the experience more thrilling and terrifying beyond belief.

Sipping the rest of my soda, I planned to throw the empty cup away. But as I spun around, I felt the cup get jammed between me and someone else. This time, nothing happened in slow motion, the soda instantly spill on the front of my shirt; I felt it soak through the crisp fabric.

I froze, staring down at my pink-sleeved raglan shirt in incredulity.

You've got to be kidding me.

Standing before me was a tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed male in a red polo and faded pants. Sucks being you," said the guy, a half-full cup of soda in his hand.

"You think?"

"At least the other side matches now."

I glared at Bryce. "Oh I get it. You're trying to be funny."

"'Witty' is more like it," he said with a crooked smile.

"Then you might have said something like 'cup got your tongue?'"

Bryce laughed. It was a contagious, unfettered laugh that could make anyone smile.

Distracted, I bumped into a table manned by an elderly woman seated on a folding chair. Wearing a shirt emblazoned with the logo PART (Philippine Animal Rescue Team), she had white hair and an open, cheerful face. On the table in front of her were pamphlets and a donation jar, along with a large cardboard box. Inside the box were four gray puppies, one of which hopped up on its hind legs to peer over the side at me.

I approached the gray puppy in the box. "Hey, little guy," I gaily greeted him.

The elderly woman smiled. "Do you want to hold him? He's the fun one. I call him Flint."

One corner of my pink lips tugged upward. The puppy gave a high-pitched whine.

"No, that's okay," I declined. He was cute,though. Really cute, even though I didn't think the name suited him. I do sort of want to hold him, but I knew I wouldn't be able to put him down if I did. I was a sucker for animals in general, especially abandoned ones. Like these little guys.

I glanced at the elderly woman, then at the box of four puppies. "They're going to be okay, right? You're not going to have them put to sleep, are you?" I asked, controlling my sympathy.

"They'll be fine," answered the woman. "That's why we set up the table. So people would adopt them. Last year, we found homes for over thirty animals, and these four have already been claimed. I'm just waiting for the new owners to pick them up on their way out. But there are more in the shelter if you're interested."

"Oh, I'm fine. I already have a beagle at home," I politely informed her.

Bryce gingerly tugged at our handcuffed wrists, and I arched a brow at him before we resumed our walk around the north quadrangle, where the sun streamed down and the wind was weak.