Chapter Text
The sun shone brilliantly over the small New York coastal town, casting glittering reflections across the calm waters of Long Island’s gulf. Festival banners fluttered in the breeze, and the scent of salt and fried seafood drifted through the air. At the far end of the dock, where the crowd had gathered in a loose semicircle, Dr. Hoagie P. Gilligan stood proudly as though the entire event existed solely for him. Beside him lingered Sam, quiet, sharp‑eyed, and perpetually overshadowed. She clutched a paperback against her chest, already bracing herself for whatever spectacle Hoagie was about to unleash. “Ladies and gentlemen!” Hoagie boomed, raising his arms as if summoning the ocean itself. “Prepare to witness the dawn of a scientific revolution!”
Sam lifted her gaze from her book, her expression flat. She had heard this tone before. It usually meant trouble. “What revolution are we talking about this time?” she asked, her voice calm but edged with caution.
Hoagie puffed out his chest. “Only the most daring pursuit in marine history. A quest no scientist has ever had the courage to attempt.” He paused dramatically, letting the suspense thicken. “I intend to capture alive and unharmed, a genuine merman!”
The crowd erupted in gasps and excited chatter. Sam nearly dropped her book. “A merman?” she repeated, blinking hard. “You’re serious?”
A reporter pushed forward, microphone extended. “Dr. Gilligan, do you actually have a plan for this?”
“Of course I do!” Hoagie declared, gesturing grandly toward Sam. “With my brilliant assistant at my side, we’ll have one caught before you can say ‘marine marvel.’ Minutes, really. Isn’t that right, Sam?”
Sam cleared her throat. “Realistically? It could take months. Maybe years.” She hesitated, then added under her breath, “Possibly decades.”
Hoagie slapped a hand over her mouth before she could continue. But the damage was done. The reporter’s eyebrows shot up. “Decades?” he repeated loudly. A ripple of disappointment swept through the crowd. People began drifting away, muttering about false promises and wasted time.
Hoagie flailed his arms in desperation. “Wait, no, no! I meant days! Hours! I have charts, well, not charts, but extremely scientific notes! We’ll have a merman by tomorrow morning, guaranteed!” But the dock was already emptying, leaving only the gulls to witness his panic. Hoagie rounded on Sam, his face flushed. “You’ve ruined my chance at global fame!”
Before Sam could respond, a warm, familiar voice chimed in from behind them. “Did I just walk in on something dramatic?”
Both turned to see Abby Lincoln, the beloved talk‑show host, strolling toward them with her signature smile. Hoagie’s jaw dropped. “Abigail Lincoln!” he squeaked, suddenly starstruck.
Sam straightened, equally stunned. "The beloved talk show hostess."
Abby gave a wink. "That's me! The stunning GORGEOUS host of the hottest show on TV!"
Hoagie recovered quickly, seizing the opportunity like a lifeline, kissing her hand. “Abby, my dear, welcome! Imagine this, your show, tomorrow morning, featuring the world’s first living merman! Exclusively!”
Sam’s head snapped toward him. “That’s impossible.”
Hoagie waved her off without looking. “No one asked you.”
Abby’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “An exclusive, you say?”
“Absolutely,” Hoagie said, already shaking her hand with far too much enthusiasm.
Sam watched the handshake with a sinking feeling in her stomach. “I really don’t like where this is going,” she murmured. And for once, she suspected she wasn’t exaggerating.
The handshake between Hoagie and Abby Lincoln had barely ended before Hoagie spun back toward Sam with a triumphant smirk, as if he’d just secured a Nobel Prize instead of a reckless promise. “Well,” he said, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, “some of us know how to impress the media. Others”—he flicked his eyes toward Sam—“seem determined to sabotage greatness.”
Sam stiffened. She’d endured his jabs before, but something about the way he said it, loud enough for Abby to hear, made her cheeks burn. “I wasn’t sabotaging anything,” she muttered. “I was being realistic.”
“Realistic,” Hoagie repeated with a scoff. “Spoken like someone who’s never tasted ambition.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “I’ve tasted plenty. I just don’t hallucinate it.”
Abby let out a soft laugh, stepping closer with the easy confidence of someone who lived under studio lights. “Oh, I like her,” she said, eyes sparkling. “She’s got bite.”
Hoagie waved dismissively. “She’s got pessimism. And a terrible sense of timing.”
Sam folded her arms. “I have a perfectly fine sense of timing.”
“Do you?” Hoagie said. “Because you chose today, in front of cameras to tell the world my groundbreaking expedition might take decades. Decades, Sam! You might as well have told them I planned to knit the merman a sweater while I waited.”
Abby tilted her head, studying Sam with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” she said lightly, “a little polish might help. Cameras love confidence. And… well…” She gestured vaguely at Sam’s face. “A touch of makeup wouldn’t hurt.”
Sam blinked. “Makeup?”
“Nothing drastic,” Abby said, smiling warmly. “Just enough to bring out your features. You’ve got a lovely face, you just hide it behind that ‘I haven’t slept in three days’ aesthetic.”
Sam’s ears went hot. “I don’t hide anything. I just… don’t need makeup to do my job.”
Hoagie snorted. “Your job is to support me. And if Abby thinks you need a little sprucing up, then—”
“Hoagie,” Abby interrupted, her tone smooth but edged with steel, “I can speak for myself.” Hoagie froze, startled by the sudden shift in her voice. Abby stepped closer to Sam, lowering her voice to something gentler. “I’m not saying you need it. I’m saying it could help you feel more camera-ready. You’re going to be part of this story whether you like it or not.” Sam hesitated. She wasn’t used to anyone acknowledging her as part of anything.
Hoagie, however, seized the moment. “Yes, Sam. Try not to embarrass me on national television.”
Sam shot him a glare. “I’m not the one who promised a mythical creature by tomorrow.”
Abby laughed again, delighted. “She’s right, you know.”
Hoagie puffed up. “I can handle the merman. I just need her to stop undermining me.”
“I’m not undermining you,” Sam said. “I’m grounding you.”
“Same thing,” Hoagie snapped.
Abby raised a hand, silencing both of them with the ease of someone who’d moderated a thousand celebrity feuds. “Alright, children,” she said, amused. “Let’s not tear each other apart before the adventure even begins.” Sam exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. Abby’s presence was overwhelming, warm, charismatic, and somehow sharper than Hoagie’s bluster. It made Sam feel small and seen at the same time. Abby turned to her again. “Look, sweetheart,” she said, softer now, “I’m not trying to insult you. I just think you deserve to look as confident as you clearly are. And if you want help, I’ve got a whole team who can make you shine.” Sam’s eyes widened. No one had ever offered her that before, not sincerely.
Hoagie clapped his hands. “Wonderful! You two can bond over blush and mascara while I prepare the equipment.” Sam shot him a look that could have curdled seawater.
Abby placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Ignore him,” she murmured. “He’s loud, but he’s not the boss of your self-worth.”
Sam swallowed hard. “Thanks. I… appreciate that.”
Abby smiled. “Good. Because tomorrow morning, you’re going to be on my show. And I want you to feel like you belong there.”
Hoagie, overhearing, spun around. “She’ll be there because she’s my assistant.”
Abby didn’t even look at him. “She’ll be there because she’s part of the story.” Sam felt something warm bloom in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Respect. And for the first time since Hoagie announced his ridiculous plan, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, tomorrow wouldn’t be a complete disaster. At least not for her.
Time went by..
Abby excused herself with a graceful smile, promising to “freshen up before the cameras find her.” She disappeared into the festival’s restroom building, leaving Sam and Hoagie alone on the dock—an arrangement Sam immediately regretted. The moment Abby was out of earshot, Hoagie rounded on her like a kettle that had been waiting to boil. “Well,” he huffed, “aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today.”
Sam blinked. “I literally said nothing.”
“Exactly!” Hoagie jabbed a finger at her. “You said nothing when you should’ve been supporting me. Do you know how humiliating it is to have your assistant contradict you in front of a celebrity?”
Sam crossed her arms. “Do you know how humiliating it is to be dragged into your delusions in front of a celebrity?”
Hoagie gasped as though she’d slapped him with a wet fish. “Delusions? Sam, please. Women love mermen. It’s practically science.”
Sam stared. “What science?”
“The science of… appeal!” Hoagie declared, waving his hands dramatically. “Mystery! Muscles! Scales! Women go wild for that sort of thing.”
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hoagie, no woman has ever said, ‘You know what I want? A man who sheds like a koi.’”
Hoagie ignored her. “You should be thrilled! You’ll be working closely with a merman. Think of the bragging rights.”
“Bragging rights?” Sam repeated. “Hoagie, I don’t even brag about working with you.”
He clutched his chest. “You wound me.”
Sam blinked. “You bully me.”
Hoagie argued. “I motivate you.”
Sam blinked once more. “You threw me under the bus.”
Hoagie yelled. “I nudged you toward excellence.”
Sam blinked thrice. “You literally covered my mouth.”
Hoagie waved that off. “A minor gesture. Besides, you should be thanking me. Once we catch this merman, you’ll be famous by association.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Famous for what? Being the assistant who watched her boss get dragged into the ocean?”
Hoagie puffed up indignantly. “Dragged? Please. I am a master of aquatic negotiation.”
“You can’t even negotiate with seagulls,” Sam said. “One stole your sandwich and you cried.”
“I did not cry,” Hoagie snapped. “I expressed righteous indignation.”
Sam sighed. “You screamed, ‘Give it back, you feathery thief!’ and chased it into the parking lot.”
Hoagie’s face reddened. “That bird was a menace.”
Sam shrugged. “So is your plan.”
He threw his hands up. “Why must you always be so negative? Abby sees potential in you. She even offered to help you look presentable.”
Sam bristled. “I am presentable.”
Hoagie gave her a long, slow once‑over. “You look like you crawled out of a library vent.”
Sam shrugged. “I like libraries.”
Hoagie sighed. “And vents, apparently.”
Sam glared. “I was fixing the air filter.”
Hoagie sneered. “You were hiding from me.”
Sam grumbled. “Same thing.”
Hoagie groaned dramatically. “Sam, Sam, Sam… you should be excited! Mermen are the pinnacle of oceanic allure. Women swoon over them.”
Sam snorted. “Name one woman.”
“Abby,” Hoagie said confidently.
Sam blinked. “Abby? Abby Lincoln? The woman who just told you she doesn’t believe you?”
“She didn’t say that,” Hoagie insisted. “She said she was intrigued.”
Sam dropped the truth bomb. “She said it like someone watching a raccoon try to open a locked trash can.”
Hoagie ignored her again. “Point is, you should be happy. You’re young! You’re impressionable! You should be thrilled at the idea of meeting a handsome aquatic specimen.”
Sam stared at him. “Hoagie, I don’t want to date a fish.”
“Merman,” he corrected.
Sam blinked. “Still fish.”
Hoagie argued. “Half fish.”
Sam groaned. “Still fish.”
Hoagie groaned. “You have no imagination.”
Sam shrugged once more. “You have too much.”
He paced in a tight circle, muttering to himself. “Women love mermen… Sam should be grateful… once‑in‑a‑lifetime opportunity…”
Sam watched him, arms crossed, expression flat. “You know, Hoagie, if you want to date the merman, just say so.”
Hoagie froze mid‑pace. “I, what, no! That’s not, Sam! EW”
She shrugged. “No judgment. You do you.”
Hoagie yelled. “I do not ‘do’ mythical creatures!”
Sam snickered. “You’re the one who said they’re irresistible.”
Hoagie blushed. “I meant to women, Sam! Women!”
Sam nodded solemnly. “Right. Women. Totally.”
Hoagie sputtered. “Stop twisting my words!”
Sam looked away. “I’m not twisting anything. I’m just listening.” He groaned again, louder this time, as if hoping Abby would hear him from the bathroom and come rescue him. Sam leaned against a post, watching him unravel. “You know, Hoagie… maybe you should be happy.”
He paused. “Happy? Why?”
Sam smirked. “Because if women really love mermen, then maybe the merman will steal Abby’s attention and you won’t have to impress her anymore.”
Hoagie gasped. “Sam! That is, actually, no, that’s terrible. That’s awful. Why would you say that?”
Sam shrugged. “Just trying to motivate you.”
Hoagie pointed at her accusingly. “That’s my line.”
Sam snickered. “And yet I used it better.”
He groaned again, dramatically collapsing onto a crate. “Why must you torment me?”
Sam smirked. “Because you make it easy.” Hoagie opened his mouth to retort, but the bathroom door swung open, and Abby stepped out, radiant as ever. Hoagie immediately straightened, smoothing his hair. Sam rolled her eyes. The storm paused. But only for a moment.
Abby rejoined them with a refreshed glow, smoothing her hair as she stepped back onto the dock. Hoagie straightened like a soldier at inspection, while Sam tried to look like she hadn’t spent the last eight minutes arguing with a man who believed women were biologically predisposed to adore mermen. “Well,” Abby said, clasping her hands together, “this has been… lively. But I think we should all get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”
Hoagie nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Rest is vital for scientific greatness.”
Sam muttered, “And delusion maintenance.”
Abby pretended not to hear it, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “Let’s meet back here at sunrise. I want to film the first segment while the light’s perfect.” Sam groaned internally. Sunrise. Of course. They exchanged goodbyes, and the three of them headed toward the parking lot, their footsteps echoing on the wooden planks. The festival lights flickered behind them as the evening settled into a soft, ocean‑scented quiet. Hoagie marched to his car, a boxy, sea‑foam‑green SUV plastered with bumper stickers like I BRAKE FOR CEPHALOPODS and ASK ME ABOUT MY MARINE BIOLOGY PODCAST. Sam trudged toward her tiny hatchback, which looked like it had survived several academic battles. Abby glided to her sleek black sedan, the kind of car that practically whispered celebrity. They all climbed in, engines humming to life. And then almost simultaneously, their phones rang. Abby tapped her Bluetooth button, already bracing herself. “Let me guess,” she said. “You saw the teaser I posted.”
Cree’s voice crackled through the speakers, sharp and competitive. “Of course I saw it. You’re chasing a merman story? Really, Abby? That’s your big exclusive?”
Abby smirked. “Jealous?”
“Please,” Cree scoffed. “I just think it’s adorable you’re letting some bargain‑bin Jacques Cousteau drag you into his midlife crisis.”
Abby laughed. “He’s not in a midlife crisis. He’s in a constant crisis.”
“And the assistant?” Cree asked. “The quiet one? She looked like she wanted to evaporate.”
Abby’s expression softened. “Sam’s sweet. Smart, too. She just needs someone to actually see her.”
Cree snorted. “You’re collecting strays now?”
“Maybe,” Abby said. “Maybe I like helping people shine.”
“Or maybe,” Cree countered, “you like being the one who shines the brightest.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Cree.”
“Goodnight, little sis. Try not to drown.” Cree answered.
Hoagie’s phone buzzed with a contact labeled FATHER (WORK). He answered with the enthusiasm of a man desperate for validation. “Father! Perfect timing. I’ve made a breakthrough.”
Father’s voice was deep, stern, and exhausted, like a CEO who hadn’t slept since the fiscal quarter began. “Kid, please tell me this breakthrough isn’t the nonsense I saw trending online.”
Hoagie bristled. “It’s not nonsense. It’s revolutionary. I’m going to capture a merman.” There was a long, painful silence.
Then Father sighed. “Kid… we’ve talked about this. You need stability. A real career. Something respectable.”
Hoagie argued. “Marine biology is respectable!”
Father sighed. “Chasing mythical creatures is not.”
“They’re not mythical,” Hoagie insisted. “They’re just… elusive.”
Father groaned. “Hoagie, I have meetings at dawn. Please don’t embarrass the family name on national television.”
Hoagie’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not embarrassing anyone. I’m making history.”
“Or making a fool of yourself,” Father muttered. “Again.”
Hoagie’s jaw clenched. “You’ll see. Tomorrow, everyone will see.”
Father didn’t sound convinced. “Goodnight, Hoagie.” Hoagie hung up, cheeks burning with a mix of anger and determination.
Sam’s phone lit up with KNIGHTBRACE. She sighed but answered. “Hey.”
“Samueline!” Knightbrace boomed, his voice dramatic and overly formal. “I sensed distress in your aura. Has your oral hygiene been compromised?”
Sam rubbed her forehead. “No. My oral hygiene is fine. My sanity, however—”
“Ah,” Knightbrace said knowingly. “The scientist again.”
“Yep.” She sighed.
“The loud one with the ego the size of a molar.” He answered.
“That’s the one.” Sam answered.
Knightbrace gasped. “Did he insult you? I shall smite him with the righteous fury of—”
“Please don’t smite anyone,” Sam said. “I just… had a long day.”
Knightbrace softened. “Do you require emotional support floss?”
Sam laughed despite herself. “No. I’m okay. Just tired.”
“You are strong,” Knightbrace declared. “And wise. And far too good for that barnacle of a man.”
Sam smiled faintly. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Rest well, roommate. And remember, should he cause you further distress, I shall descend upon him like plaque upon the unbrushed.”
Sam shook her head, amused. “Goodnight, Knightbrace.” Today
The hotel they’d booked, The Seaside Lantern Inn, was one of those places that tried very hard to look charming and nautical, with rope‑wrapped lamps and framed pictures of boats that had probably never touched water. After parking, the three of them split off down different hallways, exchanging tired goodnights. Sam and Hoagie ended up in rooms right across from each other. The moment Sam shut her door, she exhaled deeply, letting the quiet settle around her like a blanket. Meanwhile, Hoagie’s door slammed shut with the force of a man entering battle. Hoagie’s room looked like a natural disaster had been politely asked to confine itself to a single space. Within thirty seconds, he had dumped his suitcase onto the bed, scattered papers across the floor, opened three notebooks at once, turned on the TV for “background inspiration” and kicked off his shoes so violently one landed in the bathroom doorway. He paced in frantic circles, muttering to himself. “Father thinks I’m ridiculous… Abby thinks I’m eccentric… Sam thinks I’m delusional…” He waved his arms. “I’m visionary! Visionary people are always misunderstood.” He tripped over a rolled‑up map of the gulf, caught himself on the dresser, and immediately blamed the furniture. “Who puts a dresser there? Ridiculous design.” He grabbed a marker and began scribbling diagrams on the hotel notepad, arrows, circles, a very muscular stick‑figure merman labeled SPECIMEN A. He added a second stick figure labeled ME flexing triumphantly. “This is it,” he whispered to himself. “Tomorrow, everything changes.” Then he stepped on his own shoe, slipped, and fell onto the bed with a dramatic groan. “Everything hurts,” he added.
Across the hall, Sam’s room looked like a catalog photo. She unpacked with quiet efficiency, clothes folded into neat stacks, toiletries lined up by height, her book placed gently on the nightstand, her phone charger coiled perfectly, not a knot in sight. She even straightened the decorative pillow the hotel had tossed haphazardly onto the chair. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, letting the soft hum of the air conditioner soothe her nerves. Her room smelled faintly of lavender from the travel spray she always carried. Everything was calm. Predictable. Safe. She checked her phone, no new messages. Knightbrace’s earlier pep talk still lingered in her mind, making her smile faintly. Then she heard a loud thud from across the hall. Followed by “WHO PUT A SHOE THERE?!”
Sam closed her eyes. “Oh boy.” She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow she’d be on Abby Lincoln’s show. Tomorrow she’d be dragged into Hoagie’s merman madness. Tomorrow she’d probably end up waist‑deep in cold seawater while Hoagie shouted instructions from a boat. But tonight? Tonight she had a clean room, a soft bed, and a moment of peace.
Another thud echoed from Hoagie’s room. “THE MAP ATTACKED ME!”
Sam sighed. “I should’ve asked for a room on a different floor.” She reached over, turned off the lamp, and let the darkness settle. Across the hall, Hoagie continued ranting to himself, rustling papers, and occasionally yelping in pain. Sam pulled a pillow over her head. “Eight hours,” she whispered. “Just eight hours until sunrise.” And somehow, that felt like both a blessing and a threat.
Time went by..
Sam had just settled under the hotel blankets, reading, the room dim and perfectly quiet except for the soft hum of the AC. She closed her eyes, letting her muscles finally unclench after a day of public humiliation, celebrity encounters, and Hoagie’s ego doing laps around her sanity. She had maybe three seconds of peace. Then: THUD. Followed by Hoagie’s muffled voice through the wall. “Sam! SAM! Are you awake?”
Sam groaned into her pillow. “No.”
He cheered. “Great! I need your opinion!”
She sat up, hair sticking out in sleepy frustration. “Hoagie, it’s almost midnight.”
He yelled more. “That’s when geniuses think best!”
Sam muttered, “Then why are you asking me?”
There was a frantic rustling sound, like he was shuffling through papers at high velocity. “Sam,” he called again, “do you think mermen prefer deep water or shallow water?”
Sam flopped back onto the bed. “Hoagie, I don’t think they prefer anything because they don’t exist.”
“Wrong!” he shouted. “They absolutely exist. I can feel it in my bones.”
Sam groaned more. “Your bones are unreliable.”
Hoagie shrieked. “MY BONES ARE HIGHLY RELIABLE!”
Sam grabbed her pillow and pressed it over her face. “Please let me sleep.”
But Hoagie was already spiraling. “Okay, okay, new question,” he said, pacing loudly enough that she could hear every step. “If a merman were to approach a boat, would he be more likely to communicate through song, gesture, or telepathy?”
Sam blinked at the ceiling. “Hoagie, what—”
“Because I need to prepare! If he sings, I need earplugs. If he gestures, I need a waterproof whiteboard. If he uses telepathy, I need—” he explained.
“Therapy,” Sam said.
“—a helmet lined with aluminum foil!” he finally said, this is a merman, not an alien.
Sam sat up. “Hoagie, please. I have to be up in five hours.”
“So do I!” he said, as if that somehow justified everything. “But unlike you, I’m carrying the weight of scientific destiny!”
Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re carrying the weight of your own delusions.” There was a pause.
Then a knock at her door. A frantic, rapid‑fire knock. Sam dragged herself out of bed and opened the door just enough to see Hoagie standing there in mismatched socks, hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted, holding a stack of papers and a half‑eaten granola bar. “Sam,” he whispered urgently, “what if the merman is shy?”
Sam stared at him. “Hoagie. Go to bed.”
“But what if he’s shy?” he asked.
“Then he’ll avoid you,” she said. “Like everyone else does.”
Hoagie gasped. “That was uncalled for.”
Sam rubbed her eyes. “Hoagie, I’m exhausted.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a state secret. “Sam… what if the merman is attracted to confidence? Should I practice my power stance?”
“No.” Sam rubbed her eyes.
Hoagie planted his feet wide apart, hands on hips, chest puffed out. “How about now?”
“You look like you’re trying to summon a kidney stone, then eat it..” Sam yawned.
Hoagie deflated. “Fine. Fine. I’ll ask a different question.”
Sam groaned. “Please don’t.”
“Too late!” He flipped through his papers. “Do you think mermen have a preferred snack? Should I bring offerings? Fish? Seaweed? A charcuterie board?”
Sam stared at him. “Hoagie, if you bring a charcuterie board to the ocean, I’m quitting.”
Hoagie ignored her. “What if he’s lactose intolerant? What if he’s vegan? What if—”
“HOAGIE.” He froze. Sam took a deep breath. “I need sleep. You need sleep. The merman, real or not, needs sleep. Everyone needs sleep.”
Hoagie blinked. “Mermen sleep?”
Sam shut her eyes. “I don’t know, Hoagie. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Hoagie nodded solemnly, as if she’d just delivered profound wisdom. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Sleep is essential. Rest is vital. Tomorrow is a big day.” Sam exhaled in relief. Then Hoagie added, “One last question.”
“No.” Sam yelled.
“Just one!” he whined.
“Hoagie—” Sam blinked, groggily.
He leaned in. “Do you think mermen have eyebrows?” Sam slammed the door in his face. From the hallway, she heard him say, “I’ll take that as a maybe!” She crawled back into bed, burying herself under the blankets. Across the hall, Hoagie resumed pacing, muttering, scribbling, and occasionally yelping.
Sam pulled the pillow over her head. “Four hours,” she whispered. “I can survive four hours.” But even she wasn’t sure if that was true.