Freaks and Fortune

The next day, I didn't even try to hurry. I did up the laces of my shoes with a dull slowness and dragged my heels all the way to Anthony Piccadilly's booth. He had aimed a pink plastic fan at his face and was leaning against the plexi glass, the side of his face smashed flat. He was sleeping peacefully, his bangs gently stirring to the soft wrrrrr of the fan.

"Anthony?" I asked, tapping on the window.
He jolted awake, his face peeling off the window.
"I can explain!" he shouted sleepily, raising his fist in the air.
"Ashamed of your dreams, Picadilly?" I asked, the corner of my mouth coiling into a smile.

It took a second for his eyes to refocus. He slowly entered reality with a confused look in his green eyes.

"I was having a dream where I was... There was this..."
"Fascinating," I gushed.
"Did I... Did I mention names?" he asked, suddenly very concerned.
"No. But now I sort of wish you did," I laughed.
"You dare sass me after all I've done for you?" he scolded. "I punched in your card with all the good, punctual girls this morning!"
"Speaking of that - which, I'm very thankful for, don't get me wrong - but what you did was not very nice, my friend!"
"Whatever are you talking about?"
"Don't play innocent, you little charmer. You didn't tell that uptight acrobat about me!"
"Didn't I?"
"Oh, very funny! He freaked out on me!"
"But you handled it very well! He told me you called him a dumbass."
"You're lucky you're smile is so goddamn cute, Picadilly," I told him. "Or I'd knock out a few teeth."

He just grinned.

I took my sweet time to get to the Elephant Ring, looking down at the big concrete stadium with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. I didn't notice that the Acrobat from yesterday was waiting for me until I reached the tool shed.

"You're late," he stated grumpily.
"Am I?" I asked, pretending to be surprised. I was only running a few minutes over.
"Yes," he grunted, not amused.
"Well, you should probably move out of the way so that I can get going, right?"

The Acrobat realized that he was standing directly in front of the doors to the shed. With a shake of his head, he huffed and walked heavily away. I watched him as I dragged the wheelbarrow and shovel towards the cluster of giant elephant cages. He had descended into the pit of the stadium, slowly and methodically practicing his handstands and backflips.

"One!"
Handstand.
"Two!"
One-handed.
"Three!"
Push up into a back-tuck.
"One!"
Land in a handstand.
"Two!"
One-handed.
"Three!"
Push up into a back-tuck.

Over and over he practiced. I could hear him bark out his counts all the way around the back. He was reduced to a muffled shout by the time I reached my destination.

I snapped my red hair up into a high pony tail and set to work, filling up and loading off three entire wheel-barrows of dung before I was arrested out of the rhythm I'd sunken into.

"Hey... Hey, you're doing it wrong."

I looked up, appalled. It was the same boy from yesterday. Same cheekbones and lips. Same unkempt hair and swaggering demeanor.

He was in a leather jacket, but he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. The fact that his hair only looked partially styled told me that either he'd escaped while someone (an unlucky Styling Artist, perhaps) was getting him ready or that he'd been doing his own hair and just gotten bored. He leaned up against the bars of the cage and gave me a toothy smile.

"Go away!" I shouted, raising my shovel like a spear.
He chuckled and walked away, this time humming "Oops, I Did It Again" by Brittany Spears and shaking his hips like Mick Jagger. He rhythmically scuffed his bare feet in the dirt and checked over his shoulder to see if I was watching. I pretended not to be.

It was nearing twilight when he appeared again. He looked like he'd gotten fully dressed this time, complete with the white shirt, suspenders and artfully tousled hair. He had the air of someone who had just parked their motorcycle around the corner and was quite aware of how dangerous and handsome he was. His face was flushed with excitement and he crinkled his straight, regal nose as he smiled.

But there was one aspect of his appearance that wasn't the same. I couldn't help but laugh.

"What's funny?" he demanded, immediately becoming self-conscious and worried.
"Nice make-up."

He was wearing a light coating of black eyeliner, emo-kid style. I rolled my eyes and continued to transport the dried clumps of dung into the wheelbarrow. Recovering enough to chuckle slightly, he reached up to wipe off the make-up with the back of his hand.

"I just came from a show," he explained. "Very successful, by the way. I had to fight the girls off."
"Fascinating."
"And you're still doing it wrong."

A show? But he looked so young... Side-Show Freak, maybe?

His attire hinted at something sinister. His black jeans were tight, and matched the exact color of his clunky boots. His white shirt was un-tucked and disheveled, with the sleeves rolled up unevenly. He'd slung the black leather jacket over his shoulder, clearly exposing his black suspenders - one stretched taut over his shoulder and the other hanging limply around his waist.

"What do you mean wrong?" I demanded, leaning against my shovel.

He was pressed up against the bars of the cage. Casually, he poked his arm through and pointed to the wheelbarrow.

"I mean wrong, is what I mean!"
"Go away," I sneered. "Shoo, fly. Don't bother me."
"I'm no fly. Flies are ugly and annoying. I, on the other hand, am cute and annoying."
"Hmph."
"Shovel it all into the front. That way, it will be easier on your arms when you load it out."

I paused and thought about it. Shockingly, it seemed reasonable. "Thanks," I muttered, surprised that the hoodlum had actually helped.

He smiled crookedly.

I laughed at him quietly and returned to shoveling. Relieved for the tip, I piled up all the dung in the front of the wheelbarrow. Suddenly, with a rusty screech, it pitched forward. I realized that I'd made it tip over with the weight of the dung in the front of it.

An hour's work had just been spewed across the cage floor.

I snapped my head up, ready to tell the boy how idiotic his advice at been. But... He was gone.

Something in my mind clicked.

I'd just been tricked by a Freak.