The two suddenly ten-year-old octogenarians clapped their hands with glee and led the way through the mass of tourists toward New Orleans Square.

Cal remained a silent shadow behind us.

Ever since this morning, he hadn’t said one word to me. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. He’d said. “Get in,” when he’d held the Hummer’s door open for me. That was it. Clearly, this whole bait plan didn’t put him in the best mood.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t doing a whole lot for my nerves either. I’d looked over my shoulder a dozen times on the escalator ride down from the main parking structure. On the tram ride into the park, I’d done at least three double takes at the guy in the Panama hat and sunglasses seated opposite us before ascertaining that he was, in fact, just an innocent tourist and not some ominous stalker.

Even though I’d set up this whole thing, it was still a scary thought that I could, in theory, be staring straight at my stalker and not even know it. He knew what I looked like, but I had no idea who he was. Or even if he was a he for that matter.

I now knew how those ducks in a barrel felt at the county fair.

I kept my head down, staying close to the aunts, infinitely glad for the hulking bulk of Cal behind me, even if he was giving me the silent treatment.

We wound past the Jungle Cruise and Tarzan’s Treehouse, narrowly avoiding collisions with at least three strollers, and jumped into line for the Pirates of the Caribbean.

Two minutes into it, my phone buzzed from my pocket.

“Your pants are vibrating,” Aunt Millie pointed out.

“I know.”

“You gonna answer it?”

Considering I was pretty sure it was Felix calling? “Nope.”

She shrugged, as if to say the younger generation’s logic escaped her.

Aunt Sue opened up her tote bag. “This ride is going to be so fun! You’re going to love this,” she said to the contents.

“Please tell me you’re not talking to Mrs. C.,” I said.

She blinked at me. “Well, of course I am. This is her trip.”

I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, young lady?”

Okay, I didn’t try all that hard.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I mumbled as the line crept forward.

Fifteen minutes later we were being hustled into a soggy boat by a guy dressed like he’d just escaped from some 1980s version of Pirates of Penzance. The aunts took the front seat (‘cause Millie complained she couldn’t see a darn thing from the back) and Cal and I scrunched into the middle, while a family of four was seated in the seats behind us.