23. Hoopla

"Hi, Miss Bonnie!" Danny scrambled over and off the mattress without assistance, a huge grin on his pixie face. "Did you see me? I went down really fast."

"I did see you! Was it fun? It looked like fun!"

He nodded emphatically. "I'm going to go again! Watch me!" With that, he pelted back toward the entrance ramp before she could say "boo."

Bonnie straightened, and scanned the ranks of spectators, craning her neck for a glimpse of Val, but she saw no one even vaguely resembling Danny's mother. She had begun to fear that Val had sauntered some ways off, leaving her son unattended, when her anxious gaze was caught by a tall, dark-haired man looking her way through aviator sunglasses, just a hint of a smile on his face. Her breath whooshing out in relief, she smiled broadly, and walked over to join Dr. Baer. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

He spared her a long look in greeting before turning his attention back to the Fun House. "I gathered that," he said, a note of dry humor in his voice.

"Val wasn't interested in coming?"

"No, she was. Is, I should say. She's planning on coming tonight for the live music, but that doesn't start till late."

It wasn't a question, but Bonnie volunteered in confirmation, "That's right. There'll be a series of performers, local bands and singers, beginning at six."

"Which is hardly the ideal time to bring a five-year-old to a carnival, as I pointed out to her. She was happy enough to let me take Danny for the afternoon and overnight."

At that very moment, Bonnie realized she hadn't seen Eddie all day, or heard anything about him. Did he and Val have a rendezvous for the evening, and was he the reason behind Val's ready agreement to let Danny spend the night with his dad? If so, she couldn't be entirely sorry, as it had worked out to her little pal's advantage. "I'm glad you were able to bring him. Have you been here long?"

Dr. Baer twisted his wrist and consulted his watch. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up to the elbow, exposing strong, sinewy forearms. "Going on three hours. Danny's been on every kiddie ride at least once, and some, like that Mini Dino ride and the Dragon Wagon, three times. He's been in the Fun House for the last fifteen minutes. I'm beginning to think I'll never get him out."

Danny had climbed to the first of the two suspension bridges, and had stopped about halfway across the quaking structure to jump up and down and wave his arms gleefully in their direction. They waved back, and Danny was off again, clambering toward the raised platform. "He looks like he still has plenty of gas left in the tank."

"Don't be fooled," Dr. Baer said. "He's running on fumes. The next time he comes down that slide, we'll start working our way toward the exit."

That reminded her. "I've been collecting video of kids here at the carnival, and I caught Danny just now squirting out of the tunnel. I haven't seen the clip yet, and don't know if it's usable, but if it is, would you mind our posting it as part of a montage on the foundation website? Of course, if you'd rather not…"

"Just pictures, no names, right? Can I see it first?" When Bonnie had reassured him on both counts, he nodded. "All right, sure."

They stood silently side by side for a time watching the children's hijinks and high spirits. Bonnie laughed to see some of their antics. "They're having such a great time!" She turned to Dr. Baer with a smile. "How about you? Did you have any fun today?"

"Yeah," he admitted, almost grudgingly. "You know: vicariously."

Bonnie knew what he meant. "Seeing the kids brings it all back, doesn't it? All the joy, the awful excitement?" When Dr. Baer failed to chime in, she glanced over at him. "No?"

He shrugged. "I lived in rural Maryland growing up. Not many carnivals made it out our way. There was the occasional church fair or family day, but my father couldn't be coaxed into going. He thought it was a waste of hard-earned money."

There were not a few people in the world with that kill-joy attitude, Bonnie knew. "And your mother?"

He was so long in replying, Bonnie thought he might not have heard. Looking over, she saw his gaze fixed on the play structure, his expression stony. "She wasn't around."

Bonnie winced inwardly. It had not been her intention, but that did not change the fact that she had hit Dr. Baer in a sore spot. She could not even pardon herself on the grounds of ignorance: she'd been told Danny had no paternal grandparents, and had simply forgotten. Before she could apologize, Dr. Baer excused himself, and, moving closer to the Fun House, drew his son's attention and gestured him toward the final platform and the exit slide. Bonnie was still smarting from her blunder when her vid-screen vibrated: a message from Trev. He was on his way, and would meet her just inside the main gate. She had sent an acknowledgement, and was re-pocketing her device when Dr. Baer, holding Danny by the hand, came back toward her.

"Did you see, Miss Bonnie?" Danny's face was flushed and happy, but, close up, Bonnie could indeed see signs of approaching exhaustion. "I didn't fall, not one time!"

"No, you didn't! You did great!" She knew Dr. Baer was ready to leave, but was not quite prepared, herself, to part from them. "Can I walk with you a while?" she asked, reaching a hand down to Danny. "We're going in the same direction, I think."

He gave her his free hand willingly, and they set off at a leisurely pace. Danny walked between the two adults, occasionally breaking into a hop or a skip and chattering with the barest of promptings about his day's adventures and accomplishments. He was describing a particularly funny clown he'd seen when an amplified voice cut across, drowning him out. "You, sir! That's right," the barker of the Hoops Game called, indicating Dr. Baer. "Your lady doesn't have a single prize. That any way to treat a pretty girl like her? And how 'bout that boy of yours? You can bet he'd like to take home a plush toy souvenir." He motioned to the rows of stuffed animals hanging on either side of the chain link stall. "All you got to do is sink one ball. Three balls for ten dollars."

Dr. Baer would have ignored the cordial hectoring, and continued on but for Danny who had stopped, transfixed by the sight of a large orange toy that could, conceivably, be construed as a tyrannosaurus rex or, at the very least, a large-headed dragon. He transferred his gaze to his father, saying nothing, but looking an unmistakable appeal with his eyes. "Danny," Dr. Baer began reasonably. "You already have a roomful of stuffed animals at home. You don't need another one."

Danny didn't whine or argue, but returned his gaze to the vivid, big-eyed creature hanging so tantalizingly near.

"It's a fool's game," Dr. Baer said, addressing himself to Bonnie. "That hoop up there looks plenty wide, but what you don't know is it's more an oblong shape than a circle. And the ball's usually overinflated so chances of making the shot are virtually nil. It's rigged, like most midway games."

Bonnie was having none of it. "That may be true at other carnivals, but not here. Our main purpose is to raise money, sure, but we also want visitors to have a great experience, and enjoy their day. The outfit we hire is strictly above-board. Trust me: both the hoop and the balls are regulation. Given your height, you might have to stand farther back than the regular free-throw distance, but that's the only difference."

While they waffled, a well-muscled young man had risen to the barker's challenge, and was taking his shots with a view to impressing his date, a cute little miss who cheered him on even as he failed to sink first one, then another, and finally, the third of his allotted balls.

Dr. Baer turned back to Bonnie with a superior look, his brows arched as if to say "what'd I tell you?"

At this provocation, Bonnie raised her chin, and met his eyes squarely. "That only proves he couldn't do it, not that it can't be done." When he continued to look at her sidelong, she burst out, "You know what, doubting Thomas? I'll show you. I may not win the prize Danny wants, but I'll win something!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned down at her. "You're throwing your money away."

Bonnie leaned down to Danny's level. "Did you hear that, Danny? Your dad doesn't think I can do it. How about you? Do you think I can?"

Danny hesitated, apparently unwilling to let his hopes rise too high, but, in the end, youthful optimism won out, and he gave her a curt, encouraging nod.

"All right, then." She approached the game operator, a clean-cut youth she didn't recognize, and pointed out the prize Danny coveted. "What does it take to win that one?"

"You got to sink three balls in a row, miss."

It was a tall order, but Bonnie determined to give it her best effort. She paid for her three balls, and took her place at the proper distance. She gave the first ball a few bounces, to steady her nerves, and then, with great deliberation, took aim and threw. The ball carved a graceful arc through the air and fell cleanly through the hoop, all net. Behind her, the small crowd that had gathered broke into applause and appreciative whistles. Bonnie grinned back over her shoulder at Dr. Baer, who inclined his head wryly in congratulations.

Her next shots were unsuccessful, though. After rolling around the rim, the second ball dropped to one side, and the third, tossed with too much touch, didn't even hit the basket. Bonnie had to be satisfied with a small stuffed bear.

"Try again, miss," the operator said. "If you sink two out of three, I'll take the little one back in trade."

"What if I give this prize to my friend here?" She indicated Dr. Baer. "Is the offer still good?"

The young man thought it over. "I guess so. Yeah."

Bonnie cut her eyes to Dr. Baer in challenge. "So, I've got you one third of the way. What do you say now? Are you game?"

"Two out of three?" He considered her narrowly. "Okay," he said at last. "It's a go." He handed over his money, and, taking up his spot, turned the ball over in his hands a few times, getting the feel of it. The first ball hit the hoop's far rim and balanced there a moment before tipping forward into the basket, causing by-standers to erupt in hoots and cheers. The second ball missed, however, caroming off the backboard and eliciting a general groan of disappointment. Bonnie held her breath as Dr. Baer bounced his last ball a few times before taking it in hand, and, after a moment's concentration, letting it fly. It fell toward the basket, rattled back and forth between the rims, and then, without further ceremony, dropped like a stone through the net. The crowd roared its approval as Danny ran joyfully to his father and threw his arms around his legs.

Bonnie stepped up to congratulate him as well. "You dark horse!" she said, mock-accusingly. "You're no basketball novice!"

His grin was unapologetic. "I never said I was."

Bonnie had to acquit him on that head. "Just how much basketball have you played?"

"Four years of high school, JV as a college freshman, and pick-up games fairly frequently at the gym."

Bonnie gaped at him. "You should have sunk all three!"

Charmander, as the game operator insisted on calling the plush toy prize, proved to be nearly child-size, and too unwieldy for Danny to tote on his own. When, finally, the last of his energy draining away, Danny himself had to be carried piggyback, it fell to Bonnie to lug the awkward animal. "You know, Danny," Bonnie said, as they drew near the exit, "I have a story idea for that book of ours. How about this…

"A boy goes to the carnival with his father, and just as they're leaving, he hears this kind of rumbling voice calling, 'Psst. You! Boy!' He looks all around to see where the sound is coming from, and he sees a small dinosaur hanging from the awning of a game stall. 'Yes, you,' the dinosaur says, when he's caught the boy's attention. 'Take me home with you. Win me, win me!' The boy has always wanted a real, live dinosaur, so of course he asks his father to play the game for him, but his father's something of a wet blanket…"

Dr. Baer cleared his throat noisily.

"… which means a serious sort of a person, so the boy has to do a bit of convincing. Eventually, though, the father gives in, he wins the prize, and the boy gets to take the dinosaur home.

"Now, the strange thing about this dinosaur is that it will only talk or move for the boy. Whenever anybody else is around, it pretends to be a stuffed toy, and no one will believe the boy when he tells them the dinosaur is real. Still, the two of them have lots of fun adventures together. We could call the boy 'Charlie' and the dinosaur 'Charmander.' What do you think?"

"You'd do better to call the boy 'Calvin' and the dinosaur 'Hobbes'," Dr. Baer said before Danny could give his opinion.

Bonnie looked at him blankly. "Calvin and Hobbes," she repeated. "Why would we do that?"

"Do you know who they are?"

"Of course: Calvin was a French theologian, and Hobbes, an English philosopher."

He shook his head sharply. "Not those two. The other Calvin and Hobbes."

Bonnie shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know what you mean." She was on the point of asking for an explanation when she was brought up short by the sound of someone calling her name. Looking forward, she saw Trev striding away from the gate toward them, one arm waving above his head. His face lit with a smile when their eyes met, though his pleasure dimmed visibly when he recognized her companions.

"Hey!" he said, coming quickly up beside her. He threw an arm around her waist, and, leaning in, would have stolen a kiss, but for the large stuffed toy inconveniently in the way. He settled for a peck on the cheek.

Bonnie was suddenly conscious that she hadn't been keeping very good track of time. "I hope you haven't been waiting long," she said, in some concern.

"Not to worry. I just got here. Baer," he said evenly, nodding in greeting. He waved hello to Danny, who was still riding his father's back. "Got your hands full there, I see."

As Dr. Baer did nothing more than return Trev's nod, Bonnie jumped in with, "Danny's had a very busy afternoon, and is all tuckered out. They're just on their way home."

"Oh. Well, by all means, don't let us keep you." Trev helped himself to one of Charmander's stubby forelimbs and, with no more by-your-leave than a gentle tug, extricated it from Bonnie's clasp. "No offense," he said, extending the toy to Dr. Baer. "You can understand that Bonnie's not going to want to carry this around with her for the rest of the night."

Dr. Baer lowered Danny carefully to the ground, and accepted the overstuffed dragon from Trev's hand. "I understand completely," he said, his bland tone belied by a poorly suppressed twitch of his lips. "After all, it's not like Bonnie can't win herself another prize just as large any time she wants."

Trev frowned, and looked from Baer to Bonnie uncertainly. "Does he mean…? Is he saying you won that?"

Bonnie flinched at Trev's discomfiture. "It was a joint effort. The prize is Danny's."

"Oh, I get it!" Trev ran his hand back over his head, and rubbed the nape of his neck. "Sorry! My mistake!"

"Not at all," Baer assured him. "Perfectly natural under the circumstances."

They said their good-byes. Trev and Bonnie stood for a moment watching the Baers pass through the exit and into the parking lot. Trev shook his head moodily. "That man does not improve on acquaintance."

As Bonnie was not entirely of this opinion, she thought it best to change the subject. She threaded her arm through Trev's, and steered him back toward the bright lights and cacophony of the carnival. "You know," she said, "I've been earth-bound all day, and right now, I have a hankering to visit the top of the world. What do you say to a ride on the ferris wheel?" She leaned in, and murmured confidentially, "The ride operator's an old friend of mine."

Trev laughed, and his smile shone through again, like sunshine after clouds. "Sounds great."