Page 54 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Whatever satisfaction he’d gotten from winning Trenton the ring was overshadowed when Trenton bought ten rounds at the shooting gallery and hit every one of the prize targets he aimed for, knocking over a good half of them despite being rigged never to fall over.

“How in the hell…?”

Trenton’s ever-growing pile of loot was stacked up on the counter beside him. Knowing Hilary’s taste, most of them were snacks, but there was also a cute canister with two tickets to the local movie theater.

“Oh?” Hilary asked, after seeing what was inside. “Who are you taking with you on your date?”

Trenton finished reloading and aimed the gun barrel at a music box with a tiny ballerina on top of it. “My fiancé.”

Trenton’s prowess at the shooting gallery had a lot of people looking nervous—especially considering what had been done to him in the bathroom the previous day.

“They all think you’re going to come back and shoot up the school.”

“Should I?”

“That would interfere with our movie date.”

“Oh, well, forget it then.”

The real secret behind the impressive shooting prowess was a potato gun Trenton had gotten from his grandma back when he was eight. The boy still had it, though it hadn’t been one of the things they’d managed to get into the two garbage bags. “We’ll go back for it,” Hilary promised the boy. “Where’s your grandma now? She still alive?”

Trenton shook his head.

“Right. Because the universe takes screwing up your life seriously.”

“If that were true, it never would have given me you,” Trenton said, dropping his love bombs as casually as always. “But it’s alright. She and I weren’t close. I just really liked the potato gun. It was my second favorite present.”

“What was the favorite?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

The gallery shooting owner wouldn’t sell Trenton any more shots after the first ten, nor would he sell any to his companion, thinking he’d be a marksman as well, but there were other things to do. They got their faces painted by members of the art club. “Did you do the murals at the Halloween party?” Trenton asked the student painting his face—an odd bit of sociability for him. He didn’t talk much to people younger than seventy.

“I did some of the forest,” the girl said. “And Bailey did a lot of the pirate ship.”

Bailey was the one painting dragon scales on Aspen. She was doing a great job too. A lot more meticulous than any of the others were being.

Hilary leaned over to whisper his newly-discovered epiphany. “I think they’re dating.”

Trenton was shocked and more than a little insulted to hear it. It made Hilary laugh. “What’s with that look?”

“She’s supposed to like you.”

“I’m taken.” And not a girl, he didn’t add. There were only so many times he could make the same point.

“That wouldn’t have stopped me from loving you. I don’t think she would have been a good girlfriend after all.”

“I don’t think anyone would be if you’re using yourself as the measuring stick. Maybe you should be my girlfriend instead.”

Trenton flashed his ring. “I’m already fiancé. Girlfriend would be a step down.”

It was a wonder the thing hadn’t fallen off. The cheap gold paint was already chipping, and Hilary’s useless heart felt like it was being squeezed through a hole the size of a needle.

Trenton touched his cheek, irritating the person doing his face paint. “Don’t make that face. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Forever?”

“You have that already.”