Sideshow Girl

I was surprised to be hired. After my audition, I didn't think they wanted me for the festival. After all, they did already have a lot of danger art acts. They had fire eaters and escapists, people who juggled knives and broken bottles, and some guy with a huge leather whip. They had general stunt groups and a jousting tournament. As if there weren't enough reasons to have paramedics there, they hired me to swallow swords. I spent a rediculous amount of money on a costume, but it was so worth it.

I had lined up a place to stay for myself. My friend Scott lived in Shakopee, and he offered me his couch. I would only have to drive all the way up there and back once a week. After packing up everything I needed, I headed up to see Scott on Friday, the day right before my first day. I pushed the page button in the entrance of the apartment building to call up to Scott's place. "Talk to me," he said through the speaker.

"It's Louie Fontaine," I said. "Lemme in, dude!"

"You got it, dudette," he laughed. There was a buzzing noise and the door unlocked so I could get in. I tromped up the stairs to the third floor, dragging my bags and swords along with me. When I reached the third floor and looked in the direction of Scott's apartment, I beamed. He was sticking his head out the door, watching for me. "Scottie-pie!" I exclaimed excitedly, adding a little bounce to my step as I headed down the hall. "I haven't seen you since you graduated last year!"

"I know," he said, holding the door open for me. "Speaking of, I'm really sorry I missed seeing you graduate in June."

"It's fine," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. "It's just high school." I left my crap by his door as it clicked shut. "I like your apartment."

"Thanks. I cleaned it up a bit before you got here. For example," he went to the middle of the living room and picked up an empty potato chip bag, "this used to have crumbly chip pieces next to it." He tossed it in the trash. I hug-ambushed him. "Okay, this works for me," he laughed, hugging me back.

"Sorry, I just missed you a bunch." I let go of him and stood back a bit to study his looks. His formerly short blond hair had grown out a bit and was wavy and shaggy. His dark green eyes still sparkled like emeralds. He still had scattered freckles dotting his nose. He was about six feet tall, seven inches more than me.

"Are you just gonna stare at me, or are we getting some pizza delivered here?" Scott asked with a wink. He picked up the phone. "You still like Hawaiian?"

"Hell yeah." I flopped most ungracefully onto the couch and started flipping channels.

"Make yourself at home, I guess."

A bit later, the pizza arrived. The delivery boy was cute, but I digress.

"When does pineapple taste better than it does on a pizza?" I asked, chomping down on a huge slice of pizza.

"All the time," Scott said, wrinkling his nose. "I don't like the sweetness with the ham, sorry."

"Fine," I said, feining insult, "diss on my favorite pizza. See if I fucking care."

"Will you need a ride to the grounds tomorrow?" he asked, changing the subject.

"What do you think, I walked up here? I think I can drive myself to the grounds, Scott. How hard could it be?"

"Oh, it's pretty easy to get there," he allowed. "Should I help you with your props or anything?"

"No. I think I've got that under control, too."

"Okay. Well, don't say I never offered."

I woke up unbelievably early the next morning. I needed to. I needed plenty of time to get dressed and such. My dress was a pain in the ass, with a black leather corset top and a flowing red skirt that reached the floor. Scott pulled my corset laces tightly and tied me up in the back. "I'm so glad breathing is in style these days," I cracked. Scott laughed. I acted like I was about to slap him. "You try wearing something like this."

"I'd rather not," he said. "You look nice. Your dress matches your hair." He ran a hand through my straight black hair that fell to the bottom of my shoulderblades. "You look all Renaissance-goth."

"Thanks," I said, carefully applying black eyeliner on the top and bottom lids of both my eyes. "Wish me luck."

"Hell no!" Scott said. "Just kidding. Good luck, Louie."

I got to the grounds perfectly. I parked in a neat manner. I got all of the information I would need about working at the festival. Yet, I still managed to get frustrated when I couldn't figure out where the hell the right stage was! My sheet said I was to be at some "gypsie stage," but there was nothing labled on the map that said "gypsie stage." I was livid. I wandered about for half an hour before the festival opened, just looking for the damn stage. I would have known exactly what it was, had it not been for the fact that not only was it my first day working at the Renaissance Festival, it was my first time being there period. I stopped near a sign that said "Welcome to Sherwood!" It didn't help me much. There were men in kilts several yards past the sign, whisking past a red curtain behind a stage and setting things up. I decided they looked like they knew what they were doing, so maybe they knew what I was doing, too. "'Scuse me," I said, approaching the stage. "I'm Sharp Louie. I'm kind of... new."

"Cool," said the blond one with the ponytail. "Welcome."

"Thanks. You wouldn't happen to know anything about a 'gypsie stage,' would you?"

"We're standing on it," the other one said. He had short, dark hair, and the billowy shirt he wore was blue, unlike the white one worn by the older blond man. He wore more eyeliner than I did.

"Oh," I said, my cheeks reddening. "Well, usually when I finally give up and ask someone, the thing I'm looking for is right by their head, not under their feet." The dark-haired one smirked and nodded, and the blond one looked sympathetic.

"I'm Asbestos," the blond man said, offering his hand. I shook it.

"That's unfortunate," I commented.

"I guess so," he laughed. "That kid's my partner, Bik."

"Like a pen?" I asked.

"No," Bik said from onstage, "like a me."

"Are you performing on this stage, too?" Asbestos asked.

"Yup!" I said, smiling and nodding.

"What do you do?" Bik asked absently, still busy setting up for their show.

"I swallow swords and do a bit of knife juggling."

"Sweet," he grinned. "We play with fire, don't we, Asbestos?"

"That is what we do, yes."

"We have a big banner, but it's not up yet," Bik said.

"How long have you been swallowing swords?" Asbestos asked me.

"Since I was ten," I said. "Like, eight years or so. How long have you been doing fire?"

"Long enough," Asbestos answered.

"Longer than you've been sticking metal down your throat," Bik added.

Asbestos lowered his voice. "Don't be offended by his sense of humor, please," he said. "Bik's kind of... really sarcastic sometimes. We're always around here, just so you know. Just in case you need anything."