Page 72 of The Dating Game

Yes, I decide I like this last option best. I’ll just knock on the door. Knock, knock. Like a harmless little children’s joke.

I raise my fist and rap on the door once, twice, three times. No answer.

Which is actually a relief since in the middle of my third knock it occurred to me how awkward it would be if anyone other than Brookewasin there and opened the door.

I need to give up and go away.

Standing here is only making me look—and feel—desperate. A look that would be perfect if I were still playing Operation Dating Game, since nobody likes a desperate date. But I’m not running that con anymore, so the last thing I want to do is reek of desperation.

With a groan of frustration I turn to leave, but then a bunch of things happen all at the same time. Behind me the door opens, across the hall Aubree and Xander round the corner, and out of nowhere a squirrel skitters across the hallway through my legs and into the gym. That’s right, a squirrel. Inside the church.

“I told you I saw a squirrel!” Aubree cries.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve believed you.” Xander huffs out a disbelieving laugh, but then his eyes land on me and he immediately sobers. “I wasn’t going to go in there,” he tells me hastily. “We were chasing the squirrel. What are you doing over here anyway?” he adds.

“Me? I’m standing guard,” I say stupidly. Before I can further add to what is an all out lie, there’s a scream from inside the gymnasium. A scream that sounded like Brooke. I turn to see it wasn’t Brooke who opened the door, but Carmen, confirming my suspicions that it was Brooke who just screamed. Without pausing to think I break the no-boys-allowed rule and barrel past Carmen into the gym.

Right away I spot Brooke. She’s standing on her sleeping bag, her Bible thrust out in front of her, face-to-face with the squirrel in question. They’re locked in a staring contest, the squirrel standing completely still. I come to an abrupt stop, not wanting to startle either of them.

“Brooke,” I say her name softly.

“Will,” she says emphatically, “don’t make any sudden movements, okay? I think it’s trying to stay still to avoid being seen. Prey does that, you know, because predators can detect movement.”

“Sure,” I say, keeping my voice light, “like inJurassic Park.”

“Exactly,” she whispers, sounding dead serious. As if to her, being faced with a squirrel is actually akin to coming head to head with a velociraptor.

“What’s your plan?” I ask.

“I don’t really have one,” she admits. “I mean one second I was reading Psalms and the next a squirrel was running straight at me.”

The squirrel’s tail suddenly gets very bushy.

“I think it’s trying to make itself look more frightening,” Brooke says. “Is it weird that it’s working?” she adds. “I know it’s only like a foot tall, but I’m very aware of its teeth and claws right now. There’s an image playing in my head of the thing just lunging straight at me.”

“Don’t worry,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “I’m sure it’s more scared of usthan we are of it.”

“Ha,” Brooke says weakly. “You sound just like my dad that time we ran into a stray cat on the golf course.”

“Oh yeah? And how did that turn out?” I ask as I look around the room for something to capture the squirrel with. I can’t see anything that could possibly help us in this scenario.

“It attacked me before he even finished his sentence. I still have a scar on my upper thigh from where it clawed me.”

“Yikes.” I wince at the visual, and my determination to capture this squirrel doubles. “Maybe I should just run at it?” I suggest. “It’ll probably flee if I do.”

“Yeah, probably,” Brooke’s voice is strangled. “Or go into attack mode and run straight at me.”

“I guess there is a chance that could happen,” I agree. “Plus we need to get the thing out of here, so we don’t necessarily want it to just run and hide.”

“Is there nothing we can throw on it?” Brooke asks. “A basket or a trash can maybe?”

“I sent Xander to grab a trash can from the bathroom.” Aubree appears next to me, the drama of the situation having turned her cheeks pink. “And Carmen went to get help.”

As if on cue, Xander whisper-shouts from the doorway, “I’ve got the trash can!”

“Xander, you can come in,” I tell him, since he’s making no move to do so. “These are extenuating circumstances.”

“Okay.” He hurries into the room. Miraculously the squirrel stays still through all of this. “Still need to empty it,” he says as he reaches us. “It doesn’t have a bag in it.”

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