Page 38 of The Summer Show
I scooted behind the pedestal and helped myself to a handful of potatoes. Tubers of a uniform size. Small enough to fit in my hands.
The geese kept a watchful eye on me, all except the shortest one, who was over near one of the camera operators, scarfing up some kind of treasure. Probably a cool bug.
With the potatoes gathered in my hands, I stepped away from the pedestals. I threw one potato into the air.
The geese paused. They studied me.
I caught the potato, then tossed it up again, followed by another.
Their eyes followed the taters. They settled down for the show.
My one skill that had been used solely for amusing children up until tonight was preventing me from becoming goose food. The geese watched my juggling act, rapt. There was a collective oooh from the judges’ table. Even Effie looked impressed, and it didn’t seem like much impressed her.
My chances of survival increased. I would earn my three thousand bucks and be back again tomorrow night for whatever crazy task the crew cooked up. Even better, my life wouldn’t end here on these ancient stones, at the whim of birds.
For what felt like half an hour but was probably five minutes, I juggled potatoes several different ways. The geese eventually got bored and decided to mill around me, snuggling and giving my legs goose kisses.
I’d done it. Me. A school librarian from Oregon. I’d conquered these Greek geese, using the power of juggling, and won their affection. Good thing I had no nefarious ambitions because I might be good at villainy, too.
At any rate, when my time was up, the portcullis rattled upward and the goose handler lured the geese back to their goose enclosures with food, leaving me alone in the arena, holding tubers.
The cameras were on me and my potatoes. The judges were speechless. Maybe that was normal during filming.
Maybe … Oh heck, surely I hadn’t screwed up?
Was I supposed to fight? Fighting animals was one hundred percent not my thing. Maybe if I was being chased and there were teeth involved. Then I would try to exit, pursued by a bear or whatever was in charge of the teeth. But geese? No. The judges had to accept my juggling or send me home. Home, in this case, being Ana and Thanos’s house.
Time to muster up my courage.
I divided the potatoes into two hands and bowed.
The judges went wild.
fifteen
Memo escorted me off set to whatever was the opposite of the green room. On the color wheel that would be the red room.
The room wasn’t red. It was white and blue and had the same comfortable set up as the green room. The contestants who had preceded me were there. Two were being tended to by what I hoped were qualified medical professionals. They were covered in cuts and what appeared to be bite marks. One of them had a knee that I wasn’t sure would make it.
My eyes found Nick immediately. He was on the couch with his head back, eyes closed, fists balled loosely in his lap. At the sound of the door snicking shut behind me, he raised his head.
I wanted someone to chat to in my own language, and—tag—Nick was it. Memo was fine, but Nick was from home. That made him feel comforting and predictable, like a Big Mac or a bowl of mashed potatoes. The only problem with that metaphor was that looking at Nick was like staring into the sun. He was magnificent. He could never be plain old mac and cheese.
Blood rushed to my cheeks. Discomfort wasn’t enough to hold me back. I made a beeline for the couch and dropped down beside him, letting my head fall against the soft, squishy back.
“Did you get geese, too?” I asked him.
He winced. “You got geese?”
“Yeah. Lucky me.”
“You survived, though. How?”
“I juggled potatoes. Geese apparently love juggling.”
For the first time since I had met Nick, he laughed. He tipped back his head until it was resting on the couch and let out a belly-shaking—in his case six-pack shaking—stream of laughter. I don’t even know how to describe it. Trying would only diminish how merry it sounded and how warm it made me feel. It was the laugh of a companion who was laughing with me, not at me.
“You juggle?”