"Guess so."

"I'll take over for you here."

"Okay. Fine. Sure you can do without me?"

"No problem. The big rush is over. Anyway, this place can almost run itself-except for the ticket booth." She glanced around. Then, leaning close to Dana, she said in a hushed voice, "Clyde'll be going to lunch as soon as Sharon gets here. You might want to take off now and get a head start."

Dana laughed softly. "Okay. Where does he usually eat lunch?"

"Up the street. Usually at Sarah's." .

"So if I go to the snack stand...?"

"Comes highly recommended."

"See ya," Dana said, and hurried off. But she slowed down when she found herself closing in on her two teenaged friends.

They stood at Station One near the dangling feet of Gus Goucher, their heads tipped back.

Just my luck, Dana thought, they'll want to join me for lunch.

Nah. They're here for the tour, not to bit on me.

Yeah, sure.

Instead of staying on the walkway, which would lead her straight to the boys, she cut across the lawn. This was a more direct route, anyway.

The grass silenced her footfalls. Earlier, it had been wet with dew. Now, it was dry. It felt thick and soft under her shoes. She took a deep breath, savoring the warm smell. A smell of summer.

The scent reminded her of when she was a kid and school was out and she had the whole endless sweet summer ahead of her. For a moment, she felt that way again. But then it slipped away. Like the ghost of the girl Dana, long gone, sweeping through her and giving her an instant of childhood again, then rushing off, snatching it away and leaving an ache for what had been lost.

She sighed.

That's life, she thought.

Someone yelled, "Hey, Dana!"

She looked over her shoulder.

Both the boys, still at the feet of Gus Goucher, were now turned toward her, smiling and waving.

She waved back and yelled, "Have fun, guys. See you later."

One of them said something to the other, who nodded eagerly.

Then they started walking toward her.

"Go on back," she called and waved them away. "Enjoy the tour."

"Can we come with you?"

"Sorry. Not where I'm going."

They stopped and looked at each other.

One called, "Going to the John?"

"We'll, like, supervise."

"We'll guard the door."

"I don't think so, guys. Thanks, anyway. Bye-bye, now."

They waved, then turned around and started back. By the time Dana reached the walkway at the corner of the house, they were again staring up at Gus.

She smiled and rounded the corner. It was flattering that they'd been so interested in her, but she certainly didn't want to spend her lunch break with a couple of horny, awestruck teenagers.

Dana made her way to the rear of the house. Though the eating area was fairly crowded, she spotted a few vacant tables. There were short lines of waiting customers in front of the snack stand's two windows.

If I hit the john first, I might not get a table...

She needed to pee, but that could wait till after she'd eaten.

She started toward one of the lines.

If I don't go to the john, it'll make me a liar.

Besides, she really bad to wash her hands before settling down for lunch.

God-only-knows what I've been touching.

So she turned away from the line and made a detour to the restroom. It was well-lighted, clean, and the air had a lemony scent. A few people were washing up at the sinks. Two of the four stalls were vacant, so she picked one and stepped in.

When she was done at the toilet, she went to the row of sinks and washed her hands with hot water and soap. She dried them with a paper towel, then kept the towel in her hand so she wouldn't have to touch the door handle.

Outside, she tossed the paper towel into a nearby trash basket.

As she walked toward the snack stand, she checked out the table situation. There seemed to be more vacant tables than a few minutes ago. And only three people were waiting at the snack shop windows.

Standing back a few feet, she studied the displays listing menu items.

There was the Original Beastburger, the Cheese Beastburger, Bacon Beastburger, Chili Beastburger, and the Double-Decker Monsterburger Deluxe. If you weren't in the mood for ground beef patties, you could get the Red-Hot Beastie Weenie.

Dana grinned when she read that one.

She spent a couple more minutes enjoying the menu and trying to make up her mind. By the time she was ready to order, nobody was waiting at the window on her left. She stepped over to it.

Ducking down slightly to see inside, she smiled at the guy behind the window and said, "Hi."

"Oh, hello," he said. "You're Dana, right?"

"Yep."

"I'm Warren."

"Hi, Warren."

Whoa! she thought. Who's this? And how come Tuck didn't mention him?

"How's your first day on the job?" he asked.

"Well...iffy. I almost upchucked upstairs..."

He smiled and shook his head and Dana couldn't believe she'd said that to him. She blushed fiercely.

"Other than that," she added, "it's been great."

He laughed and said, "Well, don't worry about it. Everyone feels squeamish their first day. You'll probably be fine."

"Thanks. I hope so."

"So, what can I get you?"

"I guess the hot dog."

His smile grew. "I'm afraid we don't serve hot dogs here."

"Oh. Okay. So then, I guess I'll have one of those...uh...Red-Hot Beastie Weenies."

"Excellent choice."

"You make everyone say that?"

"Maybe not everyone."

"Just the new kids?"

"Just the ladies."

"That's cruel."

He laughed softly. "Maybe a little. Most people seem to have fun with it. Especially me."

"They're pretty cute names. Who came up with them?"

"Ohhh...I don't know. Me, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Pretty sure. Anyway, so far you'll be wanting one Red-Hot Beastie Weenie? Anything else?"

"I'll have some of those chili..." She checked the menu again. "An order of Beastly Chili Fries with cheese. And a medium Creature Cola."

"Got it." He hit a few keys on the register.

When the price came up, Dana reached deep into a front pocket of her shorts, pulled out a handful of bills, and gave Warren a ten.

He counted the change into her hand, then said, "I'll bring it over to you when it's ready."

"Where'll I be?" she asked.

"Don't worry, I'll find you. You can't go far."

"Okay. Thanks." Smiling, she turned away from the window and went in search of a table.

She found a small round table that was meant for two, but somebody had taken away one of its chairs.

Nearby, a larger table had a group of five seated around it. A man, a woman, and three kids.

That's where my extra chair went.

Doesn't matter, she told herself. It's only me.

Still, she felt a little irked about it.

She thought about finding a chair to replace it. But Warren might notice, might think she was getting a chair for him. That'd be pretty embarrassing.

So she went ahead and sat down and frowned at the empty place across the table where the second chair was supposed to be.

Then she looked at the family.

She suddenly remembered them from inside the house.

And smiled about how the little girl, a cute blonde maybe five or six years old, had kept asking for her freedom. Let go my band, let go my band. Pleeeease. The mother, fairly patient, had explained, We don't want to lose you in bere, honey. There're so many people. And the kid had insisted, I'// be fine. I won't go way. Please, let go my hand. Not whiny, but sounding quite calm about the situation. I bet you're scared I'll break something, but I won't. Kimmy does not break things.

Nifty kid, Dana thought.

Right now, the girl was frowning as if deep in thought as she nibbled on the tip of a French fry.

It seemed like a pretty nice family-even if the father had swiped Dana's chair. The kids hadn't been acting up very much in the house, and they were behaving fine, now. They appeared to be confident and happy, too.

It's because their parents treat them like humans, she thought.

She'd seen so many parents who didn't.

Everywhere she went, she saw horrible parents. At grocery stores, at malls, at public parks, this morning during her first hours in Beast House-but most especially at the swimming pool where she'd worked so many summers as a life guard. So many awful parents.

Some seemed to make it a point of honor to let their kids run wild. As if discipline might taint the self-esteem of the little charmers.