Chapter 2
She stuck to Elijah’s side as a form of security as they exited their camper.
Since they’d left their hometown, he’d come to provide the same comfort her childhood stuffed animal or baby blanket would to her.
He was the only person at the faire she could recognize instantly, regardless of what he was wearing or if he changed his hair.
Her face blindness made meeting a whole bunch of new coworkers hard, but having Elijah with her made it a little easier.
Also, he was weirdly good at indirectly saying someone’s name so Chicot would know who they were.
She was forever grateful to him for his service.
Chicot especially liked the buzz of the dog park after working hours.
Performers who were usually done up in heavy makeup and elaborate costumes now wore sweatpants while they sat in camp chairs and caught up with old friends they hadn’t seen since last season.
Chicot overheard stories of other faires, discussions of practice schedules, and congratulations on off-season accomplishments.
She knew some of the excitement was just because they’d all just gotten there, but right now it felt like being at a holiday party.
Lively conversations filled the air, mixing with the sound of crackling from smokey fires that were just being lit.
People popped open cans of beer or soda while the smell of garlic and onions and meats wafted from RV kitchens or grills set up under sunshades.
Chicot’s stomach growled, as much excited for dinner as she was for sharing it with new friends.
Elijah nudged her as they walked by a group of people juggling hacky sacks who were dressed like clowns.
Warmth bubbled up from her stomach as she smiled broadly at her partner.
Being surrounded by faire folk, Chicot walked taller, her anxiety ebbing away as she remembered that many of the qualities she worried people would notice whenever they looked at her would be embraced by the people here.
They would not pinch their faces or scrunch their noses and ask her what she was thinking.
Her ripped jeans and the Nirvana T-shirt she’d cut into a crop top, the fact that she never carried a purse, her short hair, her piercings, her hobbies—no one in the here took a second glance at them, and if they did, it was usually followed by a smile or a compliment.
It was easier to be herself here, and that made her love every rusty RV and dirt path in the little trailer park.
When they got to the front, Lyza, Elvis, and Monty were standing near a blue Subaru, waiting for them.
Monty, her height helping Chicot recognize her, stood with her back against the car, wearing a soft, worn jean jacket that looked decades old with a plush rabbit charm sticking out of the pocket.
Chicot quickly took in her outfit; she wore a loose jersey dress with lace frill along the hem, a soft, girly pink that matched the two flower clips holding some of her bangs out of her face.
She looked like she’d stepped out of an old woman’s guest bedroom, her broad shoulders and muscular figure hidden, daintiness that suited her taking over.
It made Chicot’s eyes linger on her; the cute clothes suited her.
Chicot liked that Monty had such a distinct aesthetic, and the bunny charm was something she could spot easily against the denim jacket to help identify her if she were in a crowd.
Her heart raced as she imagined Monty smiling at Chicot from a crowd and Chicot knowing immediately it was her. She wanted that.
Lyza was standing pressed up against Elvis’s chest, a wide grin on her face as she teased him about something.
She hugged him with his arms trapped against his sides, pinning him with no chance of escape.
It was then Chicot remembered that Elvis and Lyza were married.
She had seen the photos on Lyza’s socials, and she remembered being captivated by the person she now realized must have been Monty standing at her side in a suit.
“Ah, Elijah, Chicot!” Lyza released Elvis, waving her hand wildly.
Now that Chicot was able to really look at them, it was obvious that Lyza and Monty were sisters.
Despite their difference in height and weight, Lyza had the same gray eyes and sandy blonde hair as Monty.
Their warm, beige skin matched as well, their smiles equally crooked.
Though, their faces were slightly different—Lyza’s was more angular with an arched Roman nose, and Monty had a soft, rounded face with a straight nose.
The family resemblance was there, especially in their eyes, and Chicot thought of her little brother and sister back at home.
The neighbors always knew they were related just by looking at them.
It was not a skill that Chicot usually had, which meant Monty and Lyza must really look alike.
Elvis, on the other hand, was a round man all over. His skin was deep brown with olive undertones. He had big brown eyes that squinted into smiles whenever he grinned, which showed as he waved at Chicot and Elijah.
“Hey.” Chicot waved back as she approached. “Thanks for driving us.”
“It’s no trouble. Monty has to play driver since her car, Becky, is easier to take out than a whole camper.” Lyza knocked on the car, introducing Becky. “If you ever need a ride somewhere, just ask her.”
“C’mon, I’m hungry, Lyza. Just get in,” Monty said. She narrowed her eyes at her sister as she opened the driver’s side door, pulling her keys from her pocket. The bunny plush swung as Monty gripped her car key, revealing that it was a keychain.
Lyza remained chipper, unfazed, herding Chicot and Elijah into the back while Elvis took the passenger seat.
Once inside, Chicot found herself in the middle, Elijah commenting that she was the shortest, so she got to be squished with her legs pressed into the center console.
It wasn’t comfortable, but she wasn’t about to pass up a free ride.
“Don’t worry, I’ll sit in the middle on the way back,” Lyza assured. “Or in Elvis’s lap.”
“No.” Monty turned to look at Lyza, pointing. “You are not getting me another ticket.”
Lyza laughed as Monty put the car in gear, Elvis joking about how he’d sit in the back with Lyza in his lap if that made a difference. According to Monty, it did not.
There were no other cars as Monty pulled out of what would become the faire’s parking lot and impromptu changing room for patrons to switch into their faire garb.
For now, it was just an empty field that surrounded the dog park, the grass cut short to prepare for the hundreds—perhaps thousands—of cars that would come in and out each weekend.
Chicot wasn’t sure exactly how big the faire would be this year, but she did know it was an old one and a good one to perform at.
Chicot smiled, listening to the din of the car as Monty, Lyza, and Elvis bickered like siblings.
They reminded her of the way Chicot and Elijah acted.
She unclenched her jaw and sank into the seat.
Taking a deep breath, she grinned as Monty turned on her Spotify and “Kids” by PUP immediately started playing.
“I love this band.” Chicot scooted forward and bent so she could lean on the center counsel of the car, shrinking her shoulders so she could fit between the front seats as she looked at Monty. “Is this your playlist?”
Monty twitched, raising her elbow slightly to glance at Chicot before she rested her hand on the gear shift as she drove. It gave Chicot a nice view of her biceps, the sight alone making her heartbeat kick up.
“Yeah.” Monty pressed her lips into a tight line, her hands gripping the steering wheel.
“They’re, umm,” Chicot started. “They’re my favorite.”
“Cool,” Monty quickly answered, not sparing her a glance.
Chicot took the hint. She sat back against the seat, her hands clammy as she folded them in her lap.
Chicot didn’t want to annoy Monty, even if she could have talked about PUP for hours.
She knew a lot about them, had listened to all their albums. Maybe Monty hadn’t turned it on purposefully and she wasn’t into the band.
“Don’t worry about her.” Lyza waved her hand at Monty dismissively. “She’s been in a bad mood all day. She’ll probably want to talk about music after she’s had something to eat.”
“Oh, I—” Chicot shook her head. “It’s okay.”
Chicot rubbed the side of her neck, glancing from Lyza to the windshield, catching Monty staring at her in the rearview mirror.
A shiver slid across Chicot’s stomach, and she turned back toward Lyza as she continued to chat about something.
Monty must be one of Brewhilda’s supporters—that was the only thing Chicot could think of.
She would just have to push past it if she wanted to hang out with Lyza and Elvis, who were both being nice and welcoming.
She could hear Elvis and Elijah frantically talking about tabletop RPGs, so she had a feeling Elijah would want to hang out with them again.
Chicot just hoped she and Monty not getting along wouldn’t turn into a whole thing.
She spared a glance in the mirror again.
Monty was focused on the road, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel as she bobbed her head to the beat.
Her hair moved around her face like whips, getting caught on her round cheeks and the creases at the edges of her eyes.
Occasionally, a single strand or two would stick to her lips, drawing Chicot’s attention to the rosy color.
Monty’s eyes caught Chicot’s in the mirror after just a few moments, so Chicot tried to look away casually, acting like she hadn’t been staring.
It was just … Monty was her type. She had known it since the first time Chicot had watched them rehearse, but now, seeing her out of costume and relaxed, it felt more obvious.