Page 38 of Tourist Trap

“This house is empty. You need to bring some life into this house.”

He blinks at me. “And you decided a hermit crab was the solution?”

“I mean, petting one is on the list,” I say.

“Youmade the list, Claire,” he groans, clearly overwhelmed, and I pat his shoulders.

“I know. This is all very exciting.”

“Claire—” I’m losing him, I can see that, so I shift gears.

“It was inhumane, Miles. I know that no one there was going to be able to handle the responsibility of a hermit crab. Do you know how long they live?”

“Have you considered that they’ll just…buy more to replace the ones who were gone?”

I hadn’t, if I’m being honest, but that’s long besides the point.

“Maybe I should start petitioning to end the sale of hermit crabs,” I say, contemplating how I could organize that. I think the only business that sells them right now is the one I stole from, and from what I understand, the locals don’t necessarily like the people who own it, so it might be an easy sell.

“You can’t just steal from small businesses, Claire,” he says with a sigh, and I can hear genuine apology in the words, like he feels bad that he has to be the adult in this situation. “You have to bring them back.”

“Look, Surf has, like, four shops on the boardwalk, all of them have hermit crabs. And Deck says they’re shitty employers, so?—”

He cuts me off, his intrigue piqued. “Surf?” he asks, his frustration slightly dissipating.

I nod. “Yeah. Deck says they suck, and Helen says they’re always causing issues, so don’t try to make me feel bad for ‘hurting a small business.’I don’t think half a dozen hermit crabs is going to hurt their bottom line.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t going to say that,” he grumbles, and I wonder just what made him get that look of hatred on his face. What has Surf done to him to make him hate them so much? Or is it just the principle of the giant complex? That sounds like something he would be against inherently.

“So can I keep them?” I ask with a wide smile, trying to strike while he’s distracted. I move to one of the containers and pick up Big Bertha, who instantly hides in her shell. “Just look at her! She really wants a good home to live in.”

“She looks traumatized,” Miles says.

“Probably because she was left outside all night!”

“Definitely couldn’t be because you ran from a store while committing grand theft crab?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Maybe grand theft hermies?” I suggest with a smile, and he fights one of his own, shaking his head at me. After a moment, he sighs, taking his hat off, running his hand over his hair, and replacing it once again. “They need a good home,” I pout.

“I just don’t understand why the good home has to bemyhome.”

I smile wide because that’s basically a yes.

“You won’t even know they’re here! I’ll even make sure they stay in their little home the whole time.”

He tips his head and gives me a semi-alarmed look. “Why would they not stay in their home, Claire?"

“I read they can be escape artists, but I already ordered a large tank and the right lid.”

He closes his eyes and groans. “Claire.”

Finally, I pull out my secret weapon that worked on my dad and my brother, and every man who ever passed my path for nearly my entire life. I pout.

Big eyes, pouty lips, hands in front of me in a prayer position.

“Please, Miles? Please, please, please?” I make my eyes wider, knowing I’m moving past a cute girl you can’t say no to and into a comic book character, but that’s fine. “I’ll doanythingfor them to stay!”

And then it happens.

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