Chapter Text
Scamp was incredibly annoyed. Like, really really annoyed. The funhouse mirrors were giving him a migraine and were making him look distorted, creepy, or monstrous. Maybe not monstrous, but he didn’t like how big his head appeared in the particular one he was looking at.
He was sure his sisters had mentioned wanting to come here, and yet there was no sign of any of them. At least they were together. They were usually together. A triplet thing, he presumed. It was still a little funny because their personalities were so different. He shuddered at his wonky mirror image and slinked ahead, remembering to keep an eye out for his parents. They wouldn’t be happy knowing he got separated from the triplets.
The crashing of glass made him jump. Kids’ voices, a scream, and more crashing. Scamp ran ahead and stared, trying to identify the source. The mirrors made it hard to see any corners or doorways. Another loud thunk told him the sound came from his left. Scamp turned the corner into another hallway, but this had a few mirrors lying flat, the glass shattered into bits. Two had piled on top of each other at an odd angle, enough to obscure someone if they were hidden behind it. As a result, Scamp didn’t note the cause of the little mishap at first, until a voice spoke.
“No! I said don’t climb it! I said!”
A small figure popped out, looking frustrated to his core. It was a boy of about 9, the same age as Scamp’s sisters’ much to his annoyance. That was just what he needed, more 9 year olds to deal with. He was dressed sharply, in a gray shirt with a red tie and black trousers. Scamp couldn’t help noticing the kid was also about to step on a large shard of glass.
“Watch the glass,” he said unexpectedly.
The kid suddenly stared at him, as if clocking him for the first time. He tilted his head curiously, but didn’t say anything to Scamp. Or he didn’t get the chance to. Another small figure jumped down from a wooden beam that was presumably supporting the funhouse’s walls. He made a perfect landing akin to a cat’s, and in the process startled Scamp even further.
This kid had a fiery head of orange hair and blue paint-stained overalls. Definitely looked more like a mess than his posh, tie-wearing counterpart, Scamp thought.
“Whoaaaa.” Orange-hair leaned closer while Scamp backed away. “A teenager.”
“Uh, hi?” Scamp muttered. “Is this parkour practice or…”
“I was just perfecting my landing.” The boy was circling Scamp curiously. And the other one had moved closer to study him too. “You’re like, a real live teenager.”
“Yeahhh…do you guys get out much?”
“Can you drive a car?” the posh kid piped up suddenly. He had been fairly quiet. Not that Scamp got a chance to answer, because he immediately got flooded with more questions.
“Can you fly a plane? A helicopter?
“Do you know how to write big words? Like, without any mistakes?”
“How many movies have you seen? Are they all rated R?”
“Can you play the piano? I play the piano-“
“Look, friends,” Scamp interrupted loudly. “I’m gonna get out of here and look for my sisters before someone comes and thinks I’m the one who-“ he gestured at the mirror mess- “caused this. Cuz you know what being a teenager means? You get blamed for everything little kids do. ”
“Your sisters? Where are they?”
Scamp was already walking away from the crime scene. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be looking for them.”
The two boys nudged each other and whispered something. Then to Scamp’s annoyance, he found that they were running after him excitedly.
“We're helping you find your sisters! Onward.”
“Wait, what-”
“Wheee! A mission!”
Scamp groaned. The kids had reached the edge of the corridor and were waiting for him to catch up, rather impatiently. When he did, scowling, they happily trotted forward again, one matching Scamp’s speed and the other skipping ahead.
“Soooo, you guys have names?”
“I’m Toulouse!” said the one with orange hair, clearly the talker of the duo. “He’s Berlioz. He’s my little brother.”
“Little by four minutes,” Berlioz grumbled. “We’re triplets, Mr. Teenager. Along with our sister.”
“Oh, my sisters are too.”
“Wow! I’ve never met another set of triplets!” Toulouse jumped up and down. “How big are they? Will they be friends with us?”
“Sure. They’re about your age.”
“Wow… we gotta find them quick. Where did you lose them?”
“I didn’t lose them,” Scamp muttered. “The little gremlins ran away from me.”
“Why? Are you a terrible brother?” Berlioz asked innocently. Scamp scowled at him.
“No. They’re just gremlins. I’m the best.”
They exited the funhouse as Scamp made this little brag about himself. He thought about where else they might go. Maybe the ferris wheel, but Annette was terrified of heights. She wouldn’t get on one without their parents. Then…
“Did you check the carousel? Let’s check the carousel. They have funnel cake there too.”
Scamp shrugged. Couldn’t hurt to try.
“So, are you guys French or something?” he inquired as they walked over.
“Yes! We’re also named after famous French people,” Toulouse explained. Berlioz grinned proudly.
“I’m named for Hector Berlioz, the composer.”
“Fancy.”
“Do you have a girlfriend? Teenagers have those, right??”
Scamp flushed, suddenly remembering Angel was somewhere at the fair too. Maybe she was with his sisters, or with his uncles. Who knew? He pulled out his phone to send her a text. Berlioz and Toulouse tried to see what he was writing.
“Oooh. He does have a girlfriend. He’s messaging her.”
“Do you think they kiss and stuff?”
“I don’t-”
“Shut up, you two.” Scamp was glaring at them stonily. “If you want to come with me to the carousel then no mentioning any girlfriends, or kissing.”
“Ohhhkay,” Toulouse sang. Berlioz giggled, trotting after Scamp. He tugged at Scamp’s shirt lightly. “What’s your name? You never told us.”
“Scamp. Well, it’s actually Cameron. But everyone calls me Scamp.”
“Scamp! That’s a fun name!” Toulouse exclaimed. “Oh, here’s the carousel. See any sisters?”
Scamp saw no sisters. The carousel was spinning with kids of all ages with parents waving to them from the side. The funnel cake smelled delicious. He resisted the temptation, though. The idea of asking his parents for funnel cake money while also telling them he’d lost his sisters wasn’t very inviting.
“They’re not here,” he grumbled. Berlioz had disappeared, but Toulouse was still hovering around him. He squinted at the carousel.
“Are you sure? None of those kids look familiar? What about in the funnel cake line?”
“They aren’t here, dude. God damn it,” Scamp muttered. He kicked at a tiny pebble and it went flying, almost hitting Berlioz. He had reappeared with a bag of funnel cake. Scamp looked apologetic at once.
“Oooh, sorry kid! I wasn’t trying to hit you.”
“Oh, it’s okay. It was tiny.” Berlioz suddenly pushed the bag of cake up to Scamp. The aroma was driving him crazy, but he only stared at it
“Want one? We can all share,” Berlioz said brightly. Toulouse was already munching a big bit of cake.
Scamp didn’t hesitate. He broke off a piece and shoved it in his mouth, while thanking his new little friend. At least some good came out of coming to the carousel. Scamp grabbed a fair map from a kiosk nearby, and spread it out. The little kids peered at it too.
“Where to next, Mr. Teenager?”
The map laid flat on a bench. Scamp traced his finger over the various attractions, trying to figure out where three troublemaking triplets might end up.
“What about the petting zoo?” Toulouse suggested.
“Or the games!” Berlioz pointed to the carnival game section.
Scamp deduced the carnival games might be a good place to check. Colette didn’t like petting zoos. They were “gross and unsanitary and smelled gross”, in her words. The games weren’t that hard to get to, just a little far. The map showed its position all the way at the edge of the fair, and they were currently closer to the entrance.
He shoved the map in his pocket. “Onward to the games.”