In the Unlikely Event... (35 page)

“I told you not to practice on the dogs by wrapping them,” Gitana said.

“I don’t think now is a good time for scolding,” Bud said. “Besides, it’ll come in handy.”

“They didn’t mind really,” Chase said.

“We rolled it all up into a ball when we were done, and they played soccer with it,” Bud added.

“This could truly be a boon,” Stella said. She was scrolling madly on her phone.

“What?” Chase asked.

“Wrapping the animal—within reason, of course. We don’t want PETA coming down on us,” Stella said. “It appears from the website that the animal, whether it be puppy, bunny, horse—by the way this is a first for the horse, you might make history—has never been wrapped, only the outside box. If you could manage to wrap the horse…now that would be something,” Stella said, crossing her long legs.

“Oh, and creating the Eiffel Tower out of God-knows-what is just a cakewalk?” Chase said, her voice getting high and squeaky again.

Bud rummaged around in her backpack and pulled out a sketchbook. “I don’t think this is cheating, rather more like advanced planning,” she said as she thumbed through the book until she found what she was looking for.

“What’s that?” Chase said, leaning over her shoulder.

“I’ve done preliminary sketches of most of the landmarks that are possible to use in a wrapping competition—I don’t care how good you are, no one can create Mount Rushmore in two hours. I designed the pieces using the materials I thought for sure would be available.” She handed the book over to Chase.

Mrs. Meadowbrook-Parks stared at Bud. Stella patted her arm. “Bud is a genius, literally.”

Mrs. Meadowbrook-Parks nodded and then studied the sketchbook with Chase.

“Is this stuff available? Can I do this?” Chase inquired.

“Yes, you can. We’ll collect all the discarded tubes from the wrapping paper and the cardboard boxes which you can break down to provide the inside armature. This really is a good design, Bud. I’m impressed,” Mrs. Meadowbrook-Parks said.

“But where does the horse fit?” Chase said, studying the design.

“Right here,” Bud said, pointing. “On the real Eiffel Tower this would be the elevator shaft. The horse is only about four feet tall.”

“Only four feet tall?” Chase said sardonically.

“The dogs are twenty-two inches tall,” Bud said. “So essentially you’ve already wrapped half a horse.”

“Somehow I don’t find that as comforting as I should,” Chase said.

“I brought the Holy Water,” Jacinda said, pulling the spray bottle from her purse.

Mrs. Meadowbrook-Parks stared at Jacinda. Chase wondered what her retinue looked like to an outsider. A Hispanic woman dressed like a Peruvian, all skirts and colors; a cosmopolitan woman straight out of
Town and Country
magazine; a genius child; and Gitana, whose only real oddity was loving Chase. Okay, well it didn’t look all that bad, she decided. Oh, and then there was her therapist. Okay, that was weird.

The buzzer rang outside, indicating to the audience and the last two contestants that the games were about to begin again.

“Let’s do it,” Chase said, her arms outstretched. Jacinda doused her with Holy Water and Chase crossed herself.

Bud crossed herself three times. Mrs. Meadowbrook-Parks looked at a loss, like she couldn’t decide on grace or prostration. She sort of genuflected and touched her forehead.

“Well, we best take our seats. Chase, you know what to do,” Stella said.

Chase felt uncertain. “Let me see that diagram again.”

“You have a photographic memory. It’s all in your head,” Bud said.

“You’re right. I’m ready.” She put her shoulders back and nodded as if to say to the Universe, “Bring on what you may, I am a child of fortune and today is my day.”

Onstage, two large cubicles were set up—one for each contestant. A wrapping cart of supplies and a square clock, the kind Chase had seen chess players use, were set up. Boxes of all sizes, cardboard tubes and rolls of wrapping paper were set up in racks. It looked like the inside of Santa’s gift-wrapping center: all precision and organization and ready for an army of elves to march in and tackle the mammoth task of gift-wrapping Christmas.

Mrs. Valponne instructed them to stand next to her onstage. “We’re going to open the curtain, and you’re to smile, wave at the audience and go backstage and await further instructions. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Chase said.

Kim Lee nodded, with that stoic Eastern I-have-this-all-under-control attitude she had.

The curtain opened, and Chase stared out at the audience, thinking about them in their underwear as all those self-help books suggested you should do when forced to perform in front of a crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to begin the final round of the competition. The contestants will have two and a half hours to complete their task. I ask that you remain quiet during this period. Judging will be announced in time for everyone to resume their seats. Now, let’s give our contestants a big round of applause.”

The curtain closed, and Mrs. Valponne stared hard at them. “Ms. Banter, you won the coin toss so you get first choice of assignments. As you both are most likely aware each year we choose a landmark that serves as the outside armature for the gift inside. This year we have chosen the Eiffel Tower with mini horse or the Statue of Liberty with a Smart Car. Ms. Banter, your choice will be?”

“The Eiffel Tower,” Chase said. She watched to see how Kim Lee was going to take it. Once again Kim Lee’s face was inscrutable.

“All right then, ladies, let the games begin,” Mrs. Valponne said.

Chase went to her work space and scrutinized her supplies. She rolled out two gigantic rolls of shiny brown wrapping paper like she was unrolling the red carpet at the Golden Globes. Next, she duct-taped cardboard tubes together and envisioned a child’s erector set. She would build the Eiffel Tower using the tubes as the armature—four legs, cross beams, and tiered layers, supporting cardboard platforms that would help with the bracing. Then, she’d wrap it in the shiny brown paper, making a perfect cardboard replica. As the levels came together, Chase thought, I am fucking doing this. She faced Kim Lee’s cordoned off cubical and said, “Bring it,” gesturing palms up and pulling her fingers back and forth.

She looked at the clock. She had fifty-five minutes left to wrap the horse. Having decided that the tower was finished, she glanced over at the mini horse. Chase didn’t know shit about horses. She approached her slowly—one thing she did know was they spooked easily—but this little horse looked up at Chase with sweet brown eyes filled with utter trust. Chase petted her forehead, and the horse nuzzled her.

Chase decided to be upfront with the horse. If she were a horse about to be gift wrapped, she’d want to know what was going on. It was only common courtesy. “Winnie, I’m going to wrap you up all pretty and then put you in that box over there just for ten minutes and then you get to have an apple and lots of petting. How does that sound?”

She watched for Winnie’s response. The horse seemed nonplussed.

“Okay,” Chase said. She wheeled over the trolley that contained her wrapping supplies and studied the horse. “Let’s start with your tail.”

Chase proceeded to make tubes of wrapping paper that covered Winnie’s tail, legs and neck. She resembled the Tin Man. “So far so good,” she said.

Chase cooed words of encouragement as she took a tape measure and looped it around Winnie’s belly. She taped together a strip long enough and wide enough to cover the horse’s mid-section. Winnie looked like the Tin Man’s horse.

“Now, let’s hope you’re not claustrophobic.” Chase imagined Winnie freaking and bursting out of the Eiffel Tower and destroying everything. Not that Chase would hold it against her. It was perfectly understandable. If she were a horse she might do the same thing.

It occurred to Chase that Winnie rode in a horse trailer. The Eiffel Tower box was not so different. She cut slats in the side of the box so Winnie could see out. “There, that should work,” Chase told the horse.

There were ten minutes left. “Okay, Winnie, what do you say we try the box?” Chase stroked Winnie and looked into her big brown eyes. “If you do this for me I will be eternally grateful.”

Winnie nuzzled her, and Chase handed her the apple slice that her handler had given them to use as a reward for good behavior. Winnie eagerly took it. “Okay, so we’re going to walk into this box, I mean trailer, and go for a little imaginary ride.” Chase took her bridle and led her to the box in the center of the Eiffel Tower. The horse seemed to know exactly what to do. Winnie walked right in and stood like she was ready to go. And then she shit.

Chase froze. Shit, horse shit! What the fuck was she going to do?

This was not a What Would Jesus Do? moment, but Chase called on him anyway. She looked down at the pile of shit. At least it was in neat clumps. Chase grabbed a cardboard tube. She poked the pile of shit. It wasn’t gooey like dog shit. Pooper scooper, that’s what she needed. She frantically looked around. A cardboard box, a piece of cardboard and she could scoop it up. She scooped, looking up periodically to make sure Winnie didn’t drop another load. The shit was in the box. But what the hell was she going to do with it now? She decided she’d do what she did best. She wrapped it, stuck a bow on top and set it next to the other boxes. She pulled out her antibacterial gel and cleaned up.

The big buzzer rang. “Well, here it is, the moment we’ve been waiting for,” Mrs. Valponne said from the front of the curtain.

Chase wasn’t so sure. She tried the audience-in-underwear thing again, but then got distracted by types of underwear—thongs, tighty-whities, grandma panties and holiday briefs. The curtain opened and there was a collective gasp from the audience. Oh, God, Chase thought. Kim Lee’s was going to be so much better and everyone was going to snicker at her banal attempt at a magnum opus. How could she possibly think she would pull this off?

The audience applauded. Mrs. Valponne allowed a few minutes of adoration. She called for quiet. The audience obeyed.

The judges stood with their clipboards ready. The crew removed the partition so the contenders could see each other’s works. They studied each other.

Okay, Kim Lee’s was good—damn good. The Statue of Liberty was definitely a Cubist rendition—Picasso would have been proud. It was an ingenious use of cardboard. Chase would give her that. Then she’d wrapped the cardboard with a patina-tinted wrapping paper.

Chase wondered if the Smart Car was wrapped inside. Kim Lee opened the front of the Statue of Liberty and her coach drove the car out. It wasn’t wrapped. It had an oversized bow on the roof, though, and both bumpers had ribbons wound around them and the mirrors had pom-poms. It was really rather ingenious, Chase thought. She looked over at Mrs. Meadowbrook-Parks as she watched the judges tally up the points. Kim Lee came in at nine points out of ten.

Fuck, Chase thought. She’d have to get a perfect ten to beat her. What were the chances of that? Wrapped horse or no.

Stella stood up and started a standing ovation. Her mother was a traitor. Chase scowled at her. Then the judges came around to Chase. They milled around her magnum opus with their clipboards, and Chase wished she could vaporize and find the portal back to her house where it was safe and noncompetitive. What had she been thinking to assume that the new Fearless Chase stood a chance in the world at large? One of the paisley twins indicated for her to open the doors to reveal the present inside. Chase opened the doors, patted Winnie on the forehead and led her out.

The horse was a natural. She pranced out as if showing herself off. It was like she was trained for dressage. There was another collective gasp, which Chase hoped wasn’t dismay, from the crowd. The judges carefully examined the horse. Winnie was a performer. She pranced. She lifted her tail. Chase watched with trepidation. She’d built slack into the wrapping so Winnie could move about but not so much that the horse could do the can-can. Winnie must have sensed Chase’s concern. She came up beside her and nuzzled Chase.

The paisley twins clasped their hands and smiled. They were animal lovers. That was a good sign, Chase thought. The Poirot-looking guy walked around the horse and minutely studied her design. He gave her a curt nod.

“Inventive,” he said.

They went back to their table, conferred and then each one put up their card. It seemed the whole auditorium held its breath. Mrs. Meadowbrook-Parks held Chase’s hand, something Chase normally would not have allowed, being squeamish about physical contact, but the circumstances warranted it.