Howls and Home Runs (Mascot Matchups #1)

3. Lainey

Chapter three

Lainey

P eeking into Coach Reynar’s office, I notice him working on something at his desk. My knuckles rap gently on the door frame to get his attention.

“How do I look?” Giving a little twirl, I smile inside the head as it nearly flings off my own.

“Oops!” I grab the head before it tumbles off my shoulders, my hands gliding across the silky fur as I slip the head back into place. “Wow, Wilder’s fur is really soft!”

Stroking the head once more near the ears, I feel a light breeze sneak through. Tilting my head slightly back, being careful not to nearly drop Wilder’s head again, I don’t see the ribbon tied to the vent moving as it would be if the air was on. Where did the breeze come from then?

I feel it again, but this time I also sense movement in the back of the suit. It almost felt like…

Did the tail just wag?

Coach Reynar interrupts my train of thought, startling me as he comes up behind me.

“We opted for a more hyper-realistic fur for his reconstruction. It cost a small fortune but was well worth it, as you can see.”

You can see the pride Coach Reynar has for his team and Wilder. He puts his hands on the head, adjusting it slightly so it settles on the suit, then gives Wilder’s head a fatherly pat.

“There you go. Fits like a gem. You and Wilder will be quite the team. Ready to go over the handbook?” He smiles before turning around to sit back at his desk. He gestures for me to sit, so I remove the head, setting it on my lap.

Shifting in the seat to get comfortable, I notice a few drops of a mystery liquid sitting on top of Wilder’s fur. Coach Reynar begins to go over the handler guide–which is apparently what the instructions for wearing a giant fur suit and entertaining thousands of people is called. As Coach Reynar talks on, I dip my finger in the liquid, rubbing it between my finger and thumb trying to identify what kind of liquid it is. It’s clear and textureless. What is it ?

Realizing I’m not paying attention, I return my focus back to Coach Reynar . I don’t want to make a bad impression on my first day–I really need this job. I smile and nod periodically while he outlines the rules of the suit, talking for what feels like hours. After we’re done going through everything, I leave the office with a giant handbook and a million rules to remember. Mostly to stay in character, treat Wilder as I would a human, never remove the suit from the stadium, keep Wilder clean–codes of conduct and what not.

The first game is a week away and I was invited to come “hang out with Wilder and get to know him” before then. Handbook and stadium keys in hand, I head back to the locker room and start to gently take off the suit. Removing the head first and placing it on the bench, I unzip the body and slip it off, draping it over the bench as well. Sitting next to it and running my hand along the fur, I realize it really is incredibly soft and so realistic. So realistic I could barely find the seams of the suit. I’m taking in all the fine details and textures when, suddenly, a high pitched whine echoes through the locker room again.

Jolting up off the bench, I nervously shout, “Hello?” Quickly looking around the locker room, I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary except a slow drip echoing like a leaky tap. Turning towards where I think the sound is originating from, I tilt my head in confusion .

That can’t be right, the sound is coming from the bench. Looking closer, I see liquid dripping off the seat, forming a tiny puddle on the floor. I crouch down in front of Wilder’s head and swipe my finger through the liquid on the bench, bringing it to my face to get a closer look. What is that? I look at the floor, then up to the ceiling. No leaks. What the fuck is going on?

Staring into Wilder’s big eyes, I laugh at myself. I’m being ridiculous. It’s a huge, furry suit. I was probably sweating, and it got trapped in the head. My brain cycles every logical explanation possible to make sense of the situation. Oh NOW you’re thinking rationally. Ok brain.

Shaking off my ridiculousness, I quickly but carefully put Wilder’s suit away in his designated locker and close the door, my hand lingering on it for just a moment. “Good night, Wilder. See you tomorrow.”

I swear I hear a subtle thumping sound as I speed walk to the door. Flicking the light off as I exit the locker room while shaking my head, I mutter, “Get a grip Lainey.”

There I go, talking to myself again. But hey, sometimes your own voice is better than mystery sounds in an empty locker room, right?