After dinner, Felix asked if I wanted to hang out in the game room and play some pool, but I turned him down. It had been a long day and I wanted some time to myself. After being alone for so long, being constantly surrounded by people was a little exhausting.
I went back to my room, opened the door, and stepped inside. Oscar must have worked hard while I’d been out because my suitcase wasn’t on the bed anymore. I opened the closet door. Sure enough, the suitcase had been moved to the back corner. All of Ashley’s things were gone, replaced by my clothes, although my few pairs of jeans, shorts, cargo pants, and T-shirts took up a pitifully small amount of space. I closed the door on the depressing sight.
And that wasn’t the only thing Oscar had done. He’d made up the bed and pulled the sheets back. A basket of apples and oranges sat on the table in front of the TV, and a fresh assortment of soaps and lotions were lined up on the counter inside the bathroom. I grinned. I could totally get used to this.
I went over to the pixie house to thank Oscar, but all the curtains and shades were drawn. There was no sign of him, although more honeybeer cans littered the yard. I wrinkled my nose at the sour stench.
Oscar might not be around, but Tiny was in his corral, slowly wandering from one side to the other. It was the first time I’d seen him actually move.
“Here you go, little fella.”
I dropped the strawberries I’d saved for him into the corral. Tiny waddled over and sniffed them before sticking his beak into one of the berries. I stroked my finger over his soft, velvety head. Tiny blinked back with black eyes. I took that as a thank-you. I left him to munch on his treats and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom and clicked off the light. I turned around to head for the bed—
Something zipped in front of my face.
I batted my hand in the air, thinking it was a bee, before I realized it was Oscar—and he wasn’t happy.
The pixie crossed his arms over his chest, gave me an angry glare, then zoomed over to his house, dropping down and landing on a fence post at Tiny’s corral. Oscar was wearing jeans with holes in the knees, along with a black, faded T-shirt. Black cowboy boots with sharp silver tips once again covered his tiny feet.
Oscar stabbed his finger at the tortoise, who was munching on the last of the berries. “What. Is. That?” he demanded.
I went over and scratched Tiny’s head again. “Those are some strawberries I had left over from dinner. I thought Tiny might like them.”
The tortoise opened his mouth and let out a small, satisfied sound. Okay, that burp was definitely a thank-you.
“I would have brought you some, too. But I didn’t want you to throw them at me.”
Oscar snorted. “I wouldn’t have thrown them at you. I would have smashed them in your face.”
I had to admire his fighting spirit, since I was almost ten times his size.
“You do not bring Tiny anything,” Oscar snapped. “No berries, no fruit, no treats of any kind. He’s my pet, not yours, and you’d do well to remember that.”
I bent down so that I was eye-to-eye with the pixie. “Listen, pal, you may not like me, and that’s fine. I don’t much like being saddled with you, the world’s smallest, honeybeer-swilling redneck cowboy, either. But Tiny and I don’t have any problems, and if I want to bring him treats every single day of the week and twice on Sundays, then I will do exactly as I please. You got that?”
Oscar put his hands on his hips. “You better watch your tone with me, cupcake. I can make your life miserable.”
“Really? How so?”
His eyes narrowed to slits so thin I could just barely make out his violet glare. “Itching powder in your bed. Fleas on your clothes. Garbage tucked into the toes of your ratty sneakers. All the usual pixie tricks.”
“Do your worst, pal. Do your worst.”
“Oh,” he snarled. “I will.”
“Promises, promises,” I mocked him.
“Why, you . . . you . . . you!”
That was all Oscar sputtered before he fluttered over to his front porch, wrenched open the door, stalked inside, and slammed it shut behind him so hard that the entire trailer rattled on the table.
In the corral, Tiny kept right on munching on his last strawberry, as calm as ever, totally used to Oscar’s snits. I had a feeling I was going to have to get used to them, too.
I was too riled up to go to bed, so I opened one of the doors leading to the balcony and stepped outside.
The sun had set while I was arguing with Oscar, and day was slowly giving way to night. Down in the valley, the lights on the Midway were already flashing, pulsing like a neon heart—
Thud.
Thud. Thud.
Thud.
The sounds came again and again, drifting out of the mansion from somewhere above. I cocked my head to the side, listening.
Thud.
Thud. Thud.
Thud.
Unless I was mistaken, someone was hitting something—repeatedly. Well, why should they get to have all the fun?
I glanced around the balcony and discovered a staircase built into this side of the mansion, zigzagging from one level to the next. It would have been easy enough to climb the stairs, but I walked over and took hold of the drainpipe instead.
The pipe was made of stone that had been hollowed out; it ran from the top of the mansion all the way down here before snaking around the balcony and continuing its downward journey. I gave the stone a vicious shake, but it didn’t so much as rattle. The only way this drainpipe would come away from the wall was if you took a sledgehammer to it.
I wrapped my hands around the stone, which was still warm from the day’s heat. Then I drew in a breath and started climbing.