Olive

2. stranger

stranger
noun
• a person whom one does not know or with whom one is not familiar
• a person entirely unaccustomed to (a feeling, experience, or situation)
∞

FAIRS WERE AMAZING, she decided. The lights especially. They lit up the night, chasing away the creeping dark with a glowing warmth. Aileen took another bite at her cotton candy and smiled at the tang it left in her cheeks and the curl it made of her tongue. Eyeing the roller coasters around her, she wished she could spend this night with someone she could call a friend. Anyone in mind for that role was long gone by then.

For now, she was tasked with making Viviet's night a memorable one, and she was not going to fail. The recently turned nine year-old girl grasped tightly onto her wrist, eager to play at the next booth in sight.

"Can't you move any faster? I want to throw the balloon at the clown!" Aileen tossed a strange look to Viviet, misunderstanding the girl until she noticed the game at the booth she was being dragged to.

"How much for one round, Vivvy?" She asked, digging around in her pocket for change.

"Two dollars," she replied. Aileen winced, but reminded herself that this was Kade's money that was gladly offered for a good cause: happiness. She handed over two dollar bills to Viviet and stood behind her as the girl threw the water balloons with all her might towards the plastic clown.

On her fourth of five given tries, the balloon smacked the clown's outstretched nose, bobbing it side to side. With an excited squeal, Viviet pointed out her prize. She was handed a blue and green stuffed frog that was quickly squeezed against her chest in contentment. Aileen nudged her in the direction of a bundle of food stalls, once again finding an appetite for irresistible junk food.

"Do we have to?" Viviet whined. "Can we play one more game first? Please?" Aileen reluctantly sighed and nodded her head in agreement. This time, the chosen game was the High Striker, where a mallet was used to strike a padded plank that would send a puck rocketing up a tower as a measure of strength. Viviet couldn't have been more enthusiastic about it, whereas Aileen eyed the sketchy man overseeing the activity. When he caught sight of Viviet, he smirked and Aileen's stomach coiled in disgust.

"Well, it looks like you girls are in the wrong side of the park," Aileen rolled her eyes and he directed himself to Viviet, "You lookin' for a game, little girl? You'd best check out a kiddie's booth 'cause this here game ain't cut out for little girls."

Aileen placed Viviet out of his sight as the girl's risk of crying increased with every word. Just then, an angry lug appeared at her shoulder, looking as if he was going to step in for them.

"I'll handle this, Toughie," Aileen cut in and, upon seeing the young boy he held behind him, she entrusted the man with Viviet and turned back to face the man who mistakenly decided to blab his dirty mouth.

Aileen internally laughed at how the overweight man had more fat than the muscle he was so proudly claiming to have and yanked the mallet from his hand despite his protests. She then swung it back with just enough force to keep her grounded, and threw it forward onto the plank. The puck reached 900 on the scale from 500 to 1200. The mallet was placed back into his hands and three dollars were set back onto the counter as Aileen read the man's name tag.

"You listen here, Bob—"

"It's Rob."

"—You won't be demeaning or harassing anyone here, or even manning this booth 'cause right after I leave here, I will personally see to it that you are fired. Understand, Bob? Good. Have a great rest of your work day. It'll be your last."