She hands me the camera, then stands in between the two reindeer who are lingering at the fence, no doubt hoping for another carrot. Maree holds her arms out on either side and smiles wide. I snap the picture.

“You have long arms; you could do a selfie with both of us in it.”

I kneel beside her and hold the camera out as far as I can. She rests one small hand on my shoulder and leans into me until our faces are side by side. “Cheese!” we both say and I push the button, watch the film slide out. Maree grabs it quick and flaps it back and forth in the air.

“Hey, you did it; you got both of us!” She holds the partially developed picture out, and I can just make out the top half of us, our faces side by side, her head tilted toward me, glasses hanging on to the tip of her nose.

I study the image as it comes into focus, and I’m punctured by how happy I look in the photo, cheek to cheek with this girl who wears a name tag for me, a reindeer nose popping over my shoulder.

She pockets the photos, pulls the camera strap over her neck, then points to the duct tape. “My name is Maree. You took me outside to see the reindeer ’cause I asked. But, um, I think we need to go back inside for our guitar lesson.”

I wink and make a clicking sound. “Still with you, Maree.”

She throws her arms around me, squeezes. “Wow, that’s so great! Maybe your memory is getting better.”

Tears prick my eyes at her efforts to do something I know is impossible. “We’d better go inside—”

“Holy shit!” she says, her eyes wide, finger pointing at something behind me.

I turn and immediately put my body in front of hers because loping toward us is a huge bear, his fur rippling with each stride he takes. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “That bear should be hibernating,” I whisper.

“That’s why we’re supposed to always take the tunnel.” Maree whispers, too, even though it’s about as loud as her speaking voice. From the corner of my eye, I see the tip of an orange carrot slide past my arm. “Aw, he’s so cute! Poor buddy. Maybe he’s just hungry like the reindeer and ’cause of hibernation and stuff.” She makes the mushy clicking sound again.

I groan and grab the carrot from her hand, shove it into my pocket. The bear halts a few yards from us, and when he sniffs the air, he makes a loud huffing sound that echoes in the stillness. Adrenaline courses through me, electrifying my skin. Beside us, the reindeer have retreated to their pen. “Maree,” I say between clenched teeth, “we are going to walk slowly back to the building. Stay behind me, okay?”