on a great wide pasture at the edge of town. As Brucie warned, the carnival was gone and the pasture was empty. Elvis kicked through litter for almost two hours until he found a poster that showed the dates and locations for the carnival's next four stops. That was enough.
Elvis hitchhiked to the highway, where, twenty minutes later, two college girls gave him a ride. He caught up with Ralph Todd's midway two days later, one hundred forty-six miles from home.
He had gone to find his father.
That first night, when Elvis finally reached the carnival, he saw a huge banner spread across the gates to the midway that showed a blazing man flying through the air-
See Him EXPLODE from a Cannon!!!
See Him BURST into Flames!!!
See Him DEFY Death!!!
The AMAZING Human FIREBALL!!!
every night at 9pm!!!
It was five minutes before nine when Elvis went through the gates.
A crowd was gathered at the end of the midway. Elvis could see the cannon over the heads of the people in front of him: a long red, white, and blue tube as big around as a manhole, lying atop a flatbed trailer. The strip show was on one side (SEE exotic GO-GO DANCERS from the FAR EAST!!!) and the freak show on the other (SEE the LSD BABY!!! DEFORMED by MOD science!!!).
Elvis shoved his way to the front of the crowd only to find the crowd had gathered for the freak show. A sign hanging from the cannon read: NO SHOW TONIGHT.
Elvis felt a frantic despair, like he had lost his last good chance of finding his father, then pushed back through the mob. He found a ticket kiosk where he asked when the Fireball was going to perform.
A woman with two missing front teeth said, "Might not be for three or four days. Eddie hadda fly to Chicago."
"He's coming back?"
"Sure, kid, but he won't catch up to us until the next town. You're gonna miss his show."
Three or four days. That wasn't so bad. Elvis decided he would wait for three or four weeks, if that's what it took. All he had to do was wait. All he had to do was be around when Eddie got back.
Eddie.
Elvis.
Same first letter.
Maybe that's why his mother had changed his name.
Elvis drifted along the midway until the carnival closed. He was hungry and cold, but he hid in the tall grass behind the tents until the grounds were empty and the thrill rides were dark, and then he slipped back into the midway. He slept beneath the cannon. Saying the name out loud.
Eddie.
The next morning, Elvis watched as the roustabouts and carnies emerged from trucks and trailers to begin their day. They streamed across the midway into a large kitchen tent set up behind the trucks. Elvis fell in with the crowd. He joined a line and was given a tray filled with eggs and French toast, pretending to be just another teenager in the crowd.
That afternoon he met Tina Sanchez.
He was walking along the midway past a ball-toss concession when a woman cursed angrily in Spanish. She stood on a bucket, straining on her tiptoes to reach a row of stuffed cats on a very high shelf.
Elvis said, "Can I get that for you?"
She twisted around to see him, then stepped down from the bucket. She was short and sturdy, and almost as old as his grandfather.
"Unless I grow another six inches, I guess you'll have to. Climb over the counter there, young mister."
Elvis hoisted himself over the low counter into the booth. Wire baskets filled with worn softballs were lined beneath the counter, and the side walls of the booth hung with rainbow-colored animals. Rows of fluffy silhouette cats lined shelves at the far end of the booth. You got three balls for a quarter; if you knocked down three cats, you got a prize.
She said, "I gotta take down the top row. Just drop'm into this bucket here, okay?"
"How did you put them up there?"
"I had a young fella working for me, but he left last night. They do that, you know. Probably after a woman. Now I gotta find a ladder."
Elvis pulled down the top row of targets, putting them into the bucket like she asked. Each cat was eight inches tall, and wedged into a little groove built into the shelves. Fluffy hair stuck out around the cats so they looked bigger than they were. Elvis figured that with all the hair and the tight bases, it would be almost impossible to