Page 39 of Reptile Dysfunction

Charlotte is the one shaking her head now. “But why? I thought you were meant to be the next up-and-coming reporter. Everyone loved your column.”

“Nah, it was too much work,” Fred replies, sticking his finger in his ear and twisting vigorously. I can’t help but notice his eye bulges a little as he does. “Plus, I’ve been getting really into growing mushrooms. Most people say you have to buy a fancy kit, but I’m just doing it under my mattress. Anyway, it takes a lot of time.”

I don’t know if he means under his mattress or on the underside of his mattress, but I decide either way, I don’t want to know.

“Well, Fred, if it makes you happy, I’m happy for you,” replies Charlotte with a grin that belies her discomfort. I can only assume she’s having the same thoughts about the mushrooms as I am.

“Thanks, Charlotte,” Fred replies with a genuine grin. “And I hope the writing thing works out for you. Remember though, if you ever find the job is cutting into your nap time or your loitering hours, I say get out.”

“Thanks, Fred,” Charlotte replies. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

With a grin, Fred leaves us, and Charlotte and I chuckle a little.

“The good news is, if you ever miss him, he still works a few hours a day at Chet’s store. Or maybe he just regularly loiters there, too. I guess I’m not sure. Anyway, you could always go visit,” I tell her with a grin.

“You know what? I might just do that,” she replies, and I can tell she actually means it.

As we spend the evening mingling with the crowd, I’m struck by how much Charlotte has changed. She’s no longer the closed and critical journalist that wrote those scathing articles about me. She’s truly opened up into the kind and compassionate woman I always hoped she was deep down.

Every new conversation just drives that point home. She discusses business with Chet and takes a genuine interest in his store, she compliments Gabriella on the cafe and promises to visit for lunch the next day, and she even manages to get a grimace out of Mr. Murphy, which is about as close to a smile as I’ve ever seen from him.

By the end of the night, my tension has completely slipped away, and I’m sure of one thing. There’s something here I really want to keep.

23

CHARLOTTE

I can only hope I’m outwardly holding it together as it feels like the world is spinning around me. I got so used to being a pariah in this community that the sudden turnaround in everyone’s demeanor is shocking. Everyone is so welcoming, so kind.

Especially Mason, who sees me looking a little lost and offers me his arm. I happily take it, feeling his presence ground me. We stroll around the room, taking in the soft music and smiling faces.

“Are you alright? Did Chris pour a little too generously?” Mason asks.

I shake my head, feeling my cheeks burning from a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol. “I’m fine. I’m just… surprised at how kind everyone is to me now.”

Mason’s eyebrows rise. “Ah, is that it? Well, this community can be a little… overprotective of each other. Even Mr. Murphy has his defenders now and then. You have to understand, I’m not the only one who came here after facing a great deal of prejudice.”

My heart sinks in my chest. Remembering how quickly I fell into that mindset fills me with a deep shame. I fell into that trap of distrust without really knowing him, or how this town worked. Now, I can’t believe how I behaved. It seems laughable, even.

“Oh, please don’t feel down about it. Water under the creaking bridge,” Mason says. I adore how genuine he is in everything he says and does. I can feel his forgiveness in his voice, the way he looks at me with those kind eyes.

“Thank you,” I reply. We pause a moment, simply looking into each other’s eyes. Maybe it's the martini, or the dim lighting, or the soft music, but I’m finding myself wishing we were the only people standing in this room.

“You’re full of centaur manure!”

Mason and I are both wrenched out of our blissful little moment by the sound of a small man starting a ruckus.

“Our strategy was solid. Your side was just full of cheaters!” Mr. Murphy gestures at a troll, who doesn’t seem interested in having this argument. “If you hadn’t been hiding under that bridge!”

Mason quickly moves in to mediate the situation, leaving me a few paces behind.

“Gentlemen, please. This is a day of remembrance for everyone involved. Who won doesn’t matter. In fact, I would argue the entire town of Curiosity came out as winners.” Mason speaks in an even but firm tone, letting the gathered onlookers understand that this level of bravado won’t be tolerated.

“How would you know? You weren’t even born yet!” Mr. Murphy isn’t having any of it. He wiggles his fingers in the air, little sparks of magic dancing around his hands. A folding chair rises into the air and slams against the troll, who appears to remain unphased.

Mrs. Murphy yelps and grabs him around the shoulders, shaking him gently. “Calm down, dear! If you end up stuffed in the air vent again, I’m not helping you out this time!”

A few other people in the crowd start grumbling, eager for a fight between the two. One person even starts asking who wants to take bets. I can’t help but feel that would be a wildly unfair fight.

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