Lucky Rabbit

“We need another guard at Third and Main.” Pandy’s radio crackled, and she fumbled for it, trying to remember which button she was supposed to press to talk. The heavy brick tumbled out of her grasp, bouncing painfully off her knee and into the grass.

Heaving a sigh, she squatted down, cursing the tiny skirt of the outfit she’d been issued for this gig. A sharp pang went through her knee, and she touched the rising lump gingerly. How would she explain that on an accident report? ‘I was attacked by my own ridiculously large communication device while attempting to answer a call.’ Who even used radios like this anymore? They could have just called her cell, or maybe set up a group chat.

She picked up the radio, poking at its buttons until it crackled to life. “Um, hello?”

There was a pause. “Who is that?”

She recognized the voice as belonging to her new temporary boss, Robert. Robert had clearly been unimpressed by Pandy since the moment he met her, but that was okay. Pandy was used to people being unimpressed with her. Frankly, she was unimpressed with herself most of the time. The important thing was to get through a full ten-hour shift without being fired. She really, really needed a paycheck.

Depressing the button again, she said, “This is, um, Pandora?” She winced. Why did she always say it like that? Like she wasn’t sure if that was actually her name. “I mean, Guard Six. I was on break, so I can come over?”

Why Robert bothered to hold down the button so she could hear him heave a deep sigh, she didn’t know. “Fine. Do you know how to get there?”

Pandy looked around. She was standing at the corner of Main and Sixth, so Third should be three blocks…that direction. Unless it was the other way? It didn’t really matter. Worst case, she ended up having to walk one – no, two, because she had to come back – extra blocks to get there.

“Yes?” she asked, then cringed. She hated the way she never sounded like she knew what she was doing. Of course, that was mainly because she didn’t. Working as a gig-worker and a temp, everything was always new, and by the time she settled into a routine, the day was over. Or she dropped coffee on her boss. Or her boss’ boss. Or tripped over the edge of the carpet and ended up face down in a potted plant. Or-

“Just get here. The overflow parking lots are backing up, and we have some ticked off fairgoers. We just need more uniforms here. Try to look tough.” Robert’s voice said he doubted she was capable of that, but she just said, “Yes, sir,” and clipped the radio back onto her belt.

Turning, she eyed the stalls surrounding her. Food was west, and games were east. Or were games west, and food was north? The sun was high overhead now, so that was no help. She could ask one of the overheated passers-by. That heavy-set lady with the pink hair who was fanning herself with a green ‘Top Bank’ flyer looked nice… Then a little girl grabbed the woman’s hand, dragging her away, and the moment was lost.

Pandy ducked behind a booth advertising Real Croc Bites! and pressed herself up against the wall. She wasn’t supposed to go back here unless a vendor had a problem, but she just couldn’t handle the crowds for one more minute. She smiled apologetically at a sweating woman leaning over a huge vat of boiling oil, and barely managed not to trip over an electrical cord that looked as thick as her wrist. She did not think the harried woman would be happy if Pandy managed to unplug her fryer. Or fall in. Though maybe they would make the best of it by passing her off as Real Croc?

After a few more such close calls, Pandy reluctantly made her way back out onto the crowded street, almost stepping on a baby in a stroller. Yes, in a stroller. Because it wasn’t enough that she almost squashed a baby, she actually had to step up into a moving object in order to do so. She gave more apologies to the flabbergasted mother, then hurried to a pole, reading the sign posted there.

Seventh street. She’d had a fifty-fifty chance and had gone the wrong way. That was the story of her life. When she played Bingo, and they reached the last game, where only people who hadn’t yet won were allowed to play, she still lost. She’d never even made her money back on a scratch ticket, and when her one and only boyfriend ever took her to a casino, she actually managed to break a whole bank of slot machines. And not in a good way.

No, there was only one way in which Pandy was lucky. So lucky, it seemed like every bit of good luck that should have gone into the rest of her life had gone there instead.

Gacha Love. It was a mobile otome game – a story-based romance game with a female protagonist – where the lucky gacha mechanic was used for everything. You could spend real money to guarantee you’d get a rare or better item, but Pandy never had money for games, even though she loved to play them. But from the moment she’d started playing this one, she’d never failed to get the best result possible when she pressed the bright red, heart-shaped, SPIN! button.

She longed to dig her phone out of the ridiculous little fanny pack Robert had given her as part of her uniform. Besides her phone, it held a small first aid kit, a whistle, a four ounce bottle of warm water, and a key. She didn’t even know what the key was for, but it was there, and there it would stay until she reached the end of her shift and gave it back to him, along with the tiny skirt and the white t-shirt with the word SECURITY emblazoned across the back.

Instead of giving in to the urge, Pandy turned her shoulder into the crowd and began to make her way upstream. She knew from experience that it wasn’t worth trying to find other people heading in the same direction as her and use them to ease her way. If she did, they would suddenly stop, turn into a booth, or, worse, abruptly decide they needed to go in the exact opposite direction and run her down.

By the time she managed to reach 5th street, now having gone the three blocks that should have put her at 3rd, she was sweating profusely and her feet hurt. She was wearing her own sneakers, so it wasn’t that her shoes were uncomfortable, oh no. Instead, she had been stepped on or run over by everyone from a toddler covered in sticky pink cotton candy to a clown on a unicycle.

“Six, where are you?” snapped Robert’s impatient voice from the radio at her waist.

She pulled it off and actually managed not to drop it this time. Pressing the button, she squeaked, “Almost there. I, um, had to help an old lady cross the street.” Even she winced at the feeble excuse.

Silence. Then, “Move faster.”

Pandy moved. She ignored the Pomeranian who tried to pee on her leg, the teenager who glared as if daring her to come within five feet of him, and dodged the father pushing a triple-wide stroller holding two sleeping cherubs and one red-faced toddler screaming for its mother. She passed 4th street, and finally made out the intersection of Main and 3rd.

It was a mess. No wonder Robert had sounded so unhappy. Half of their not-really-security force were already there, as well as one harassed-looking young police officer. His patrol car sat nearby, lights flashing, parked at an angle that should encourage pedestrians to remain on the sidewalk.

Said pedestrians were ignoring all attempts to corral them. Like thirsty mules who finally smelled water, they had their heads down and their eyes focused straight ahead. The lights and music of the festival called to them and they were Tired of Waiting.

Unfortunately, the street after Main was still open to through traffic, and the drivers had had enough of waiting, too. There was a constant stream of pedestrians, and the cars were simply rolling very slowly through them. The police officer was on his radio, though he periodically looked up to yell at someone, driver or pedestrian, and tell them to wait.

This wasn’t really in Pandy’s job description. The police were supposed to guide traffic. That’s what police did. Pandy and the other nineteen ‘guards’ were there to be visible, help children find lost parents, and make sure no one passed out in the heat. Or, if they did, to make sure they were taken care of so quickly that no one noticed.

Finding a familiar, albeit stressed and unhappy, face, Pandy hurried toward him. “Mr… Robert? Sir? I’m-”

Robert, a man in his late twenties or early thirties, which made him not that much older than Pandy herself, pointed toward the busy intersection. “Get over there and convince those people to take turns.”

He motioned to a boy barely out of his teens. “Joe, you go with her. One of you take east-west, while the other takes north-south. Or do something else. I don’t care, as long as everybody’s happy and stays out of the darned road when there are cars coming.”

Pandy and Joe exchanged glances. Pandy didn’t often meet people who were as unlucky as her, but when she did, they knew each other. She recognized Joe, and Joe recognized her. They both knew things were not going to go their way, but they turned to Robert and said, “Yes, sir,” anyway.

If possible, things went worse than expected. Pandy and Joe tried to get the people to stop and wait. A six-foot-tall gorilla in a TOOL t-shirt almost walked over Pandy. Then they tried to get the cars to stop. Joe nearly got run over.

They found themselves on the far side of the intersection, with pedestrians streaming around them and cars creeping by, counting on human beings to move out of the way of two-ton vehicles. Then the welcome sound of sirens reached their ears, and two more police cars pulled up. Officers got out, all competence and assumption of power, and the pedestrians finally bothered to look both ways before crossing the road, appearing shocked to realize there were cars trying to drive down the street.

A policewoman in reflective sunglasses waved Pandy and Joe away with a patronizing smile and a, “Thanks, we’ve got it.” Pandy didn’t even care. She just stepped out of the way, back onto the sidewalk with Joe. They gave each other relieved smiles just in time for Robert to arrive.

Robert was not happy. Pandy and Joe were incompetent, and thanks to them, someone could have been hurt. Never mind that the drivers and pedestrians were fully capable of making their own poor choices. No, the whole thing was obviously all on Pandy and Joe.

Pandy had heard it all before. Usually right before she was sent home, and another potential employer let her temp agency know she wasn’t welcome back. That was okay this time, since she hadn’t really wanted to take a job outside when the weather forecast called for ninety-five degrees and eighty percent humidity. She needed to pay the rent on her tiny but quiet apartment, though, so she tucked her chin and tried to look apologetic as she watched the way the police officers controlled the traffic. No one gave them any attitude, no, and she didn’t think it was just the uniform.

And then she saw him. A little boy, five or six years old. He had tousled, sweaty curls, and a huge grin on his face as he crept toward a lump of fluff trying to hide in a bush near the road. What was it?

A head popped up, two long ears quivering as huge eyes stared at the approaching child. The rabbit was pure white, like a pet bunny, not the gray or brown of a wild animal. Had it escaped from someone’s house or yard?

The child drew closer, and the rabbit broke and ran, heading straight for the street. The police had just given the cars right of way, and a large truck groaned as the driver pressed their foot hard on the pedal, clearly eager to make up for lost time. The child gave chase.

Pandy moved. The toes of her sneakers gripped the pavement, thrusting her back toward the road. Robert yelled after her, but Pandy ignored him. She ignored someone else for a change.

Everything seemed to slow. The rabbit came to a quivering halt, directly in the path of the oncoming truck. The boy scooped up the rabbit, triumphant grin stretching from ear to ear. Pandy could see the gap where a missing tooth hadn’t yet come in. And never would, if she didn’t get there in time.

The police had seen what was happening now, too. The woman turned, but she wasn’t moving yet. Wasn’t running. Pandy was.

She pushed the little boy out of the way, seeing the way his smile became an ‘O’ of surprise and fear. He tumbled back onto the pavement, into the arms of an older boy who must be his big brother, given how alike they looked. The rabbit leaped out of the little boy’s arms, heading straight for Pandy, who held up her own arms, catching it, startled into stopping in the middle of the street. 

And the truck slammed into them both.