by Joy Penny
“Those young campers might just be on their way to Tildy’s Tots,” said Earl, pointing down the hallway through which they’d vanished. “The daycare center. I might be needing you to show off your childcare expertise and run to and from there,” he said, and Lilac smiled, trying to project a confidence in her “expertise” she didn’t quite feel. Earl ran a hand under his chin.
“Maybe I should introduce you,” he said, “then we can head to my office and sort out the rest of your duties once we get there.” He made a sharp turn, retreating through a dark hall lit with glowing stars all over the ceiling and walls to make it seem like a starlight sky. Lilac got goosebumps as one of the lights lit up across the ceiling—a shooting star. She remembered this hallway and the way it had made her feel. She even remembered being sent to Tildy’s Tots. After checking in, you had to crawl through what looked like a tent flap in a hole in the wall to get inside to where the video games, TV screens, and crafting tables were. Earl nodded at the woman behind the reception desk and she nodded back, but she kept her attention focused on the mom of the two rambunctious kids who were practically salivating at the prospect of climbing through that tent hole. Earl opened a door painted to look like just part of the overall mural of a stream and mountains on the wall and stepped inside, ruining the perfect illusion of the picture as he did. Lilac felt a small, ridiculous twinge of jealousy toward the kids at the idea of not crawling through that tent flap hole. As if she’d expected employees to get inside that way.
“Tanya!” said Earl, cupping his hands over his mouth as he dodged a couple of boys running to dive into a ball pit.
“Hey!” said an approaching woman with a deep brown complexion and black-and-purple hair. She was wearing what could only be called a “camp counselor” Tildy Scout uniform and she made Lilac envious of her polo shirt and cargo shorts, even if she had to wear a ridiculous handkerchief scarf around her neck. Her gaze followed the little runners. “No jumping into the balls!” She turned back to Earl, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. It was only eight in the morning and she looked as if she’d been working for half a day. “What can I do you for, Earl?”
Earl smiled and Lilac was sure she saw his eyes rest on Tanya’s well-toned legs for just a moment before she put her hands on her hips and cleared her throat. “This is Lilac, the girl I told you would be starting today,” he said, reaching behind him and placing a hand behind Lilac’s back, shoving her forward. His hand lingered there an uncomfortably long moment, his fingers wrapped around her side as if they were intimate acquaintances instead of a boss and employee who’d only just met.
Don’t say anything, she thought. She clutched one hand into a fist and reached the other out toward Tanya. “Nice to meet you.”
Tanya shook hers quickly and Earl’s hand finally fell from her side. “Same,” said Tanya. A woman wearing a marker- or paint-stained apron over her Tildy Scout uniform jogged up to Tanya and asked something about the new shipment of construction paper. Tanya told her to check the back.
“Ah, I’m not sure if we replenished any of your supplies yet,” said Earl, rocking on his feet. “Mei left so quickly—hardly gave me any notice—and it’s been a hassle trying to pick up things where she left off, let me tell you.” Lilac noticed a slight quirk to Tanya’s brow as she stared down at Earl. “But Lilac here will get everything you need in quick order, I’m sure.” He reached around and patted Lilac’s shoulder. She was about to step aside slightly to weasel out of his way when his phone buzzed. “Excuse me,” he said, lifting his hand and holding up his finger. He headed toward a corner as he raised the phone up, using his free hand to cover his other ear. Between the Tildy Tapir cartoon playing on the big TV screen and the sounds of kids laughing and shouting, it was certainly hard to hear.
“Hope you last longer than all the other assistant managers,” said Tanya. She gazed over her shoulder as a door in the back corner opened up. “We could use some stability and structure around here.” Before Lilac could ask any more about that, Tanya excused herself as she headed back toward the opening door, through which Silly Sandgrouse—or more accurately, a person in a Silly Sandgrouse suit—stepped out, his wing looped through the arm of a woman dressed like a Tildy Scout camp counselor.
“Hey, kids!” shouted Tanya, cupping her hands over her lips. “Look who’s come to visit you!”
A bunch of the kids squealed in excitement and jumped up, rushing toward the back corner.
“Don’t run!” said one Tildy Scout.
“Form a line!” said another.
But kids were already running toward Silly, the nearest fighting to seize hold of his legs.
“Hey, hey!” Tanya clapped her hands together. “The line is over here! Don’t you go scaring off poor Silly with all your love and affection. You know he’s sometimes shy.”
The kids backed off, some hanging their heads and stomping over toward the wall. When everyone was settled, Tanya extended her hand toward the first one in line and guided her toward the mascot.
Lilac smiled as she watched Silly interact with the girl, tapping her on the back of her head to surprise her and bending down to hug her and poke his long beak amidst her hair. She giggled as her hair stood up and fell back down over and over like a waterfall. “Let’s take a picture!” said one of the Scouts.
Lilac checked over her shoulder, but Earl was still on the phone, laughing and pacing back and forth in his dark corner of the room. Something drew her attention: a small sniffle barely audible under all of the noise. A little boy sat in a dark corner behind her, opposite Earl’s, a little girl crouched beside him. He kept wiping his face.
Lilac walked over, putting her purse on the ground and sitting on her legs beside him. “What’s wrong?”
The little girl who’d been touching the boy’s shoulder stared up at her. “Who are you?”
“Lilac,” she replied, extending her hand toward them. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
The girl studied the hand but eventually let go of the boy’s shoulder to shake it. The boy just hugged his knees against his chest. They both had the same wavy, brown hair, the same peach complexion with freckles spattered across their noses. “I’m Willow,” she said. “This is my brother Landon.” She looked to be about eight and her brother was maybe four or five.
“Hello, Willow and Landon.” Lilac shifted so she hugged her own legs to her chest in a posture that echoed Landon’s. She sat close but not too close, allowing him the personal space he needed. “I’m sorry you’re so sad,” she said. “I’m just wondering if you want someone here with you. I’ll just sit quietly if that helps.”
To Lilac’s surprise, Landon started bawling and rolled into her, wrapping his arms around her.
She jumped but quickly wrapped her arms back around him, stroking his head. “I’m here,” she said, not sure what else to say.
Had some kid been mean to him? She wasn’t sure if he was crying over something like a stolen toy or if he felt ill. “Do you feel sick?” she asked. True, she didn’t want to catch anything so early into her new career, but she wouldn’t get out of this hug before Landon was ready for the world.
“He’s fine,” said Willow. “He’s not… really. But he’s not sick.”
Nodding, Lilac patted his head again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Landon shook his head as he buried it against her shoulder. She could count on snot stains in addition to the sweat stains now, but she really had no plans on wearing this dumb blazer to work again anyway.
“He just misses Mommy,” said Willow, tracing her index finger on the carpet beneath them.
Lilac patted his back. She knew about kids having separation anxiety when going to school—she supposed it was the same with daycare. Lilac wondered if his mom was an employee at Tildy World or if she’d dumped her kids here this early in the morning to gallivant around the park and enjoy it adult-style, with alcohol and golfing or one of those adult-only retreats. Her own mom and daddy had do
ne that a few times.
“I’m here,” Lilac repeated. “And look, Silly Sandgrouse is too!” She shifted her shoulder to try to point over toward the crowd of kids.
Willow snorted. Lilac was surprised such a young child could snort. “Silly Sandgrouse isn’t real.”
“I’m looking at him right now,” said Lilac. “He sure looks real to me.”
Landon stopped sniffling and shifted his head just a bit to stare at the sandgrouse, who was dancing now with a boy, both of the kid’s hands clutched tightly in the tips of Silly’s oversized wings. “Nolan,” said Landon.
“What?” Lilac asked.
Willow shrugged and kept tracing invisible designs in the rug. “He thinks all Silly Sandgrouses are Nolan,” she said. “It probably is. Nolan says only one can be in each section of the park at a time.”
“Who’s Nolan?” asked Lilac, confused.
“Our brother,” answered Willow matter-of-factly. “And we’re not babies. We know he and his friends are inside the suits. He told us.”
Good going, older brother, thought Lilac. She thought “Tildy Scouts,” the quirky name for employees of the Tildy World resort and theme park, were sworn to secrecy about these things, especially when it came to kids.
“Well, I still think he’s real,” said Lilac. She watched as the line to see Silly grew shorter and kids dissipated back to the play stations throughout the room.
“Hey,” said Lilac, “why don’t we go see him?”
Willow shrugged.
“I’ll show you why I think he’s real,” said Lilac.
Willow laughed but stood up. “Okay.” She reached a hand back toward her brother. “Let’s go see Nolan.”
“You mean Silly,” said Lilac, standing and walking behind them.
“There you are,” said Tanya. She bent down and ran a finger under Landon’s chin. “Are you feeling better yet, honey?” She stood and almost seemed to exchange a glance with Silly Sandgrouse. A glance with a costumed mascot. “Landon was feeling blue this morning,” she said. “But Willow’s so good at cheering him up, aren’t you, honey?”
Willow crossed her arms across her chest and huffed. Lilac laughed a little to think of the little surly girl as the example of cheerfulness.
Dropping Lilac’s hand, Landon ran toward Silly, hugging him. “Nolan!” he said, rubbing his head over and over on the creature’s tummy.
“This is Silly,” said the Tildy Scout who’d walked in beside him.
Landon glared at her as if to say she was an idiot and she actually backed off.
“See?” said Willow. “Even a four-year-old knows Silly isn’t real.”
Landon turned around and reached a hand out toward Lilac. “Pretty Lilac,” he said, “just like Mommy. She’s nice to me.”
Lilac took his hand. His fingers were so small in her palm. She smiled awkwardly at Silly and chuckled when she realized how tall she’d become since she’d last posed for a picture with the sandgrouse. They were almost the same height now. “Willow and Landon keep telling me Silly isn’t real,” Lilac said. “But I don’t know. You look real to me.”
Silly reached a fluffy wing out and wrapped it around Lilac, pulling her into a hug with the little boy. Lilac laughed and hugged him back with her free hand. Then Silly pulled away and pecked her cheek with his spindly beak.
“I think Nolan likes you,” said Willow in a conspiratorial tone.
“You mean Silly,” said the Tildy Scout escort again.
“Sure,” said Willow. She reached a hand up over her mouth, but Lilac was certain she saw the edges of a wide grin.
Chapter Four
Some of the guys Nolan worked with would tell you that the best part of working the suit—the Silly Sandgrouse suit in Nolan’s case, but there were others like Tildy Tapir herself and Leah Llama—was the cute women who were interested in posing with the mascots and giving them a hug, oftentimes a glass of wine or a martini in hand. The tipsier they were, the handsier they tended to be, but Nolan had never been a huge fan of those moments. He had to keep acting in character as he squirmed his way out of pinching reach and he’d even had one brazen young woman pose for a picture only to grab him by the junk just as the phone flashed. She had been grabbing “Silly” by the junk, you see, as if that were utterly hilarity. He wished she’d have known that sometimes there were women inside that suit, too—although he doubted someone so shameless would care, really.
Besides, it was the women who’d often dealt with worse, like the frat boys—especially if they wore a human character costume like Queen Animaliao and had their faces and figures on full display.
“He’s back,” said Cheryl as she sipped her water through a straw. Her head for the “Queen Animaliao’s ball” version of the Tildy Tapir mascot rested on a table on the back wall beside Nolan’s standard Silly Sandgrouse one. The ball versions of the characters were often deployed at the same time as the standard ones, so long as they were never seen in the same room at the same time.
The employee break room was the only place in the building they were allowed to remove their suits—unless they wanted to get fired, of course. If anyone had to go to the bathroom before it was time for their break, they had a signal for their Tildy Scout caretaker. Three bops on the Scout’s right elbow and a tap on their own heads. Then the caretaker would make some in-character excuse to the gathering crowd and take the mascot by the arm, guiding them back to the nearest break room. None of the other break rooms in the park proper were as big as this one at Tent Tildy, though, so most employees congregated here during longer breaks. Plus, there was food here.
Nolan hated having the resort shift in lieu of being out in the park because Earl, the resort manager, didn’t take kindly to mascots taking more than their allotted breaks. Yet the resort shift was what he got more often than not.
“Who?” asked Nolan, his thoughts unfocused as he realized Cheryl was waiting for him to respond.
“Grabby McGrabberson,” answered Cheryl, staring Nolan down over her straw as if he were the densest man on Earth. She still had her body suit on, though Nolan had taken his top off to cool down. “He has a season pass and I swear he takes off work in the middle of the week at least once a month so he can have Tildy relatively to himself.” She looked over at Jo, dressed to the nines in her Queen Animaliao costume, her long, purple wig affixed tightly atop her page-cut brown hair. Many of the women who worked the characters kept their hair short because it was too hot in all those layers otherwise. “He’s the freak who loves feeling up Tildy. Like, he doesn’t even know if there’s a guy or a girl in there. He’s felt up guys in Tildy before. Why can’t he just focus on those curves on display in the Queen A costume? When I’m not in it, that is.”
“Thanks,” said Jo. “I get enough of that, thank you. I also get kicks in the shin from the kids who are still mad about that one time Queen Animaliao was possessed and locked up Tildy in the castle dungeon. They shut their ears to any protests that ‘I’ was under a magic spell.” She took dainty bites of her sandwich, looking for all the world like the queen she was playing, even when on break.
“So what’s this I hear about Silly stealing some sugar?”
Eddie, dressed in sparkly pastel blues as Prince Beastly, Queen Animaliao’s human consort, slipped in beside Nolan and Jo, a plate loaded to the brim with pasta, veggies, and even a sandwich. Nolan felt a bit nauseous looking at it. If he ate that much in costume, he’d hurl.
Shrugging while sipping his water, Nolan then grabbed a carrot stick from Eddie’s plate and munched on it.
Eddie unfolded his napkin and tucked it carefully over the front of his regal regalia. He wasn’t dumb enough to get sauce on his pasta, but you didn’t want to get a crumb on the human outfits in particular, even if they were dry cleaned on a daily basis. “Angie told me. At Tildy’s Tots?”
Everyone at the table stared at Nolan, and he gazed over Jo’s shoulder to spot Angie, his Tildy Scout caretaker for the day, across the room and
eating nonchalantly with the other Scouts. Traitor.
“You got some sugar at… Tildy’s Tots?” asked Cheryl, incredulously. “One of the kids’ Tildy Scout caretakers, I hope?”
“As opposed to a child?” asked Nolan incredulously, although he wasn’t angry. Cheryl just liked to tease like that. “I don’t know who it was. A new woman in a suit.”
“A mom?”
“No,” said Nolan, taking another carrot. “She works here. With Earl.”
“Ugh,” said Jo and Cheryl at once. Jo added, “Poor woman.”
Nolan felt something in his stomach sour and he put down the rest of his carrot. He’d eat like a bird tonight—look it up, he’d tell anyone who ever doubted his phrasing, birds eat more of their body weight than horses—but when he was actually in character as one, it was all he could do to get some water down. But he needed it. He wore a sheen layer of sweat in that mascot costume.
Earl really is a sleaze on top of being a jerk, isn’t he? thought Nolan. There were whispers.
Eddie bumped his arm. “So is she hot?”
“Who?”
Rolling his eyes, Eddie spun his pasta around his fork. “Your grandma! Who do you think? The girl you were canoodling!”
Jo spurted some of her tea out, causing Cheryl to jump back to protect her costume—not that it was anywhere near the line of fire. “Who says ‘canoodling’?” asked Jo.
“I’ll show you what that means, my queen,” said Eddie, wiggling his eyebrow. “Betwixt the royal sheets of the royal bedchambers.”
“La la la, not hearing this,” said Cheryl, covering her ears with her fluffy hands. “Queen Animaliao is chaste and pure and her boytoy is just for eye candy.”
